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wrist, only registered the tug when she tried to leave and couldn’t. She turned to look back at him and found his violet eyes focused in on her. Violet eyes that couldn’t possibly see her, but were focused just the same.
    He didn’t speak. Only stared at her as if searching for…something. Finally, he said, “Your mother was a great healer, Callia. Fervent in mind and body. She served as Royal Healer for a long time, and she did it well, much to the chagrin of your father. I see a lot of her in you, and it pleases me to know that you carry on her work, when your father would have chosen something else for you. But your powers are stronger than your mother’s ever were. Your future brighter.” When Callia opened her mouth to protest, he cut her off. “No, it’s true. And you know it to be so, deep in your heart.”
    She closed her mouth. Stared at him. Unsure what to say or do.
    “Callia, dear, I for one know what it is to want something you cannot have, but I also know the only thing that matters in this world is that which we leave behind. Your mother knew that too. Do not forsake what might have been for what can never be. A true leader sets aside his personal wants for the good of the whole. And he makes sacrifices. Ones that, in the end, justify all that came before.”
    Her pulse thumped hard in her veins. A strange tingling lit off at the base of her hairline. She searched his face for a clue as to how he knew what she was feeling. Only she came up empty. Did he know about her past with Zander? Had someone told him what had happened between them? Or was he talking about Loukas, Lucian’s son, the ándras who would one day lead the Council of Twelve so at odds with the monarchy, and the male she’d been betrothed to from the time she was just a child?
    “I…I am not a leader, Your Majesty.”
    His eyes softened, just a touch. Just enough to tell her he knew more than she’d ever expected. “Not yet. But maybe one day.”
    He let go of her as quickly as he’d grabbed her, then leaned back in the pillows, closing his eyes as if the last hour had drained him of his energy. Gone was the gentleness and wisdom in his voice when he said, “Report back to me after you see to Zander. I want to know that he can produce heirs. If this binding is to be sanctioned, I need confirmation of his virility. Once the ceremony is complete, I cannot choose another. And tell that useless maidservant Althea on your way out that I do not want to be disturbed.”
    Callia’s stomach clenched into a knot as she stared at the old ándras and he drifted off to sleep as if he had not a care in the world. The king expected her to…
    Skata.
    She lifted a shaky hand to her forehead, swiped at the sweat beading there and turned for the door. This exam had suddenly taken on a whole new form of personal torture.
    She left the room as anxiety and anger boiled in her gut. After relaying the king’s message to Althea in the antechamber, she reluctantly headed down the great marble staircase toward the king’s study on the second level.
    Damn the king. Her temper soared as she reached the bottom step and turned the corner toward the study. Damn the politics of this war. Damn the Argonauts and Zanderespecially for making her feel, when she’d been doing a helluva job just getting by these last ten years. She didn’t want to sacrifice. She didn’t want to think about marriage and bindings and doing what was right. And she especially didn’t want to be alone with the one Argonaut who had ruined her entire life.
    She pushed the study door open to see Zander turn from the bay of windows, late-afternoon sun highlighting the gold in his short blond hair, backlighting the muscles and planes of a well-defined body she’d known more intimately than any other. But he didn’t greet her, not that he ever did. And there was absolutely no reaction whatsoever on his face at seeing her. Not that there ever was.
    He turned his gaze out the window