Scarred (Never After #2)(24)

My nose scrunches.

“Don’t forget why you’re here, cousin. What this is all for,” he implores, lowering his voice and leaning in. “We must move with precision, not haste.”

“I know.” I let out a sigh. “But it doesn’t make it any easier.”

He runs his fingers beneath the frame of his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry you’ve felt so alone and in the dark. That was never my intention. I’ll do better from now on.”

The tangles in my stomach loosen. “Thank you.”

“The wedding will be within six months’ time.” He stands, buttoning the front of his black jacket, his hand slicking over the top of his hair.

“Six months?” My eyes widen.

He shrugs, his eyes growing serious as they peer into mine. “No one said you had to take six months. Use this time to play the part… so we can rip them out by the roots.”

“I know what to do,” I snap.

A small smirk tips his lips. “Good. No worries, then.”

“Absolutely none.” I raise my hands in the air, grinning.

The conversation should put me at ease. After all, he’s finally speaking to me as if I’m part of the plans. But there’s something about the way the air thins that sends alarm tickling my skin, making my hair stand on end, and it hits me that maybe my cousin Xander isn’t the person my uncle has led me to believe he is.

The nausea in my stomach strengthens, churning like a looming storm.





“Lady Beatreaux, you look stunning.”

Michael’s voice booms across the court as my ladies-in-waiting and I make our way to the automobiles lined up at the gate.

There’s a chill in the air, even though it’s just past September; and as the clouds loom over the sky, I have another moment of missing the sunshine of Silva. I wonder how two places within the same country can be so vastly different, yet coexist within the same borders.

I suppose it’s because borders are man-made, and mother nature doesn’t confine herself to the rules of man.

If only we all could be so lucky.

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” I drop into a curtsy as I reach him, the stiff bones of my corset making my breathing shallow. I’m sure that Ophelia cinched it too tight, but I ignore the discomfort.

“Where are you taking me today?” I ask, glancing at Timothy, who stands by the back door with his hand outstretched.

Michael waves his arm as Timothy helps me into the automobile. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about that,” he says once we’re in the back seats. “Just enjoy the day, and everything that comes along with being on my arm.”

I bite back the scoff that’s aching to roll off my tongue, my head tilting as I take him in. How do people find him charming? To me, he comes across as arrogant and self-absorbed.

“How could I not?” I peer at him from under the wide brim of my purple hat.

Timothy moves into the seat across from us, and my eyes fall to the coat of arms on his chest, my mind thrown back to yesterday afternoon—to the guard who left with Tristan. I was stupid, allowing the prince to corner me the way he did; simple acts like that can have disastrous consequences. And who is he to me?

Nobody.

Worse than that.

A Faasa.

But that doesn’t stop my stomach from somersaulting at the memory of him pushing against me in the darkened corner. Of his hands touching me in ways no one is allowed to touch.

And then I think of that guard—the one who did nothing except walk into the wrong place at the wrong time—and while I can’t say for sure what happened when they left, deep in my gut, I know the truth. When Tristan’s eyes met mine, there was more being said between us than what we spoke into the air.

I don’t wish death on innocent souls. But sometimes, sacrifices must be made for the greater good.

The automobile rolls toward the front gates, and my eyes glance out across the courtyard, snagging on the large weeping willow in the distance.

I hate myself for the way my heart drops the slightest bit when I don’t see jade-green eyes watching me from the shadows.





CHAPTER 14





Tristan





My soon-to-be sister-in-law has become a bit of an obsession.

A distraction, if you will. One I don’t have time for.

I’m convinced the only reason she plagues my thoughts is because she’s a puzzle I haven’t been able to solve, and since reading people is my specialty, the fact she’s a challenge makes her unbearably interesting.

The wood floors creak as I pace across the second-story room at The Elephant Bones Tavern, glancing out of the balcony door windows. There must be hundreds of people huddled on the empty land behind the building, waiting for me to address them.

Anticipation swirls through me like a gust of wind until every single nerve ending is lit up with excitement for the future. For my future.

The one that should have been mine from the beginning.

Violence has grown in the past two years, ever since my father’s death and my brother’s subsequent rise to the throne. Everyone assumes it’s random. No one knows it’s me pulling the strings, fanning the flames of their anger. It’s easy to exacerbate issues when people are starved and forgotten. And it’s even easier to gain people’s trust and place them strategically throughout the kingdom, waiting patiently for when I call.