Traitor Born (Secondborn #2)(85)

Fabian nods. “I’ve accepted Firstborn Salloway’s offer for you. He’ll be your husband, the Fated Sword. You’ll be wed as soon as we can settle things in Swords.” He takes a bite of his meal and chews, gesturing at me with the knife in his hand. “You’ll want to start trying for an heir right away. Your brother was an idiot. He refused to choose a Fated Sword and provide an heir. It would’ve kept the Rose Gardeners from becoming so powerful. Not one for strategy, your brother. Although they tell me that he might not have been able to reproduce near the end of his life. Whatever he was taking made him sterile.”

“How do you know that?” I ask defensively.

“His autopsy was very revealing. We’ll spare you the details. It wasn’t pretty. I’m surprised he lasted as long as he did.”

“How did his addiction start?” I ask. “Do you know?”

“That’s a question for someone at the Sword Palace, I would think,” The Virtue replies.

I plan to pursue the question if given an opportunity.

The topic turns to logistics. Clifton is to accompany me to the Silver Halo, where the Opening Ceremonies will be held. My introduction as the Firstborn Sword will take place as the competitors are brought to the field.

While Fabian drones on, Clifton’s eyes are on me, trying to gauge my reaction to the announcement that he’s my fiancé. When the meal finally ends, Clifton and I stand. The Virtue bids us a good day, with a promise to see us both this evening, and then he strides away.

I walk from the table with a piece of toast in my hand, feeling Clifton trailing me. The fat koi swim to the surface near when I tear off pieces and toss them into the water. Standing next to me, Clifton waits until I’m bereft of bread to take my hand gently in his. The contact is sensual, and my heart doubles its pace. My belly fills with butterflies. My cheeks color for some reason. It’s still just Clifton. Don’t be an idiot.

“Oh, my swords!” Clifton gasps with a soft chuckle. His green eyes sparkle. “Are you blushing, Roselle?”

“I’m not blushing,” I mutter. “You’re blushing.” I try to take my hand back without hurting him, which I so could. I could beat him senseless for not telling me that he petitioned for me.

“I am blushing,” he says softly. He puts my hand against his chest so I can feel his heart. It’s racing, like mine. “You’re going to have to tell me what you’re thinking, because I’m back-footed right now,” he says, putting it in fighting terms we both know. “You’re aching right now, and this is the worst timing in the history of the world, but you’re not alone. I need you to know that I’ll always protect you. No matter what. I don’t know how we’ll work out together, Roselle, but I’d like you to know that I want us to.”

“Is this . . . never mind.” I try to lift my hand, but he tangles his fingers through mine.

“Please, ask me anything,” he begs.

“Why did you petition for me? Is it power that you want? Because I’ll give you power. You can be my right hand anyway. You wouldn’t have to—” Clifton leans down and kisses me. I wasn’t expecting his perfectly full lips on mine. It scares me—the intense ache that his exquisite kisses cause. I shouldn’t feel anything. It’s Salloway. Inter-Fate Playboy. In a league of his own. Arms dealer. Massive ego. Unrelenting cunning. Extremely dangerous. String of broken hearts. That Salloway. But . . . my pulse flares. My fingers clutch his shirt. My knees weaken. This feels like when I handled explosives for the first time—formidable, deadly, like something is about to be destroyed.

I step back, breaking our kiss. “Clifton—” But he pulls me back to him.

“I’ve wanted to do that since the day we met.”

“You mean the day you asked me for private lessons?”

He groans and bites his bottom lip, adorably, before saying, “You cannot blame me for that. I’d just been introduced to the most confident and poised women I’d ever met. I thought I knew you. I’d been expecting the girl I’d watched for years. Nothing could have prepared me for the reality. You were no girl. You were a goddess. You had me at your mercy.”

“I don’t remember it like that.”

“How do you remember it?”

“My mother had threatened me with severe consequences if I didn’t perform well at the press conference. You were an interesting thread in a terrifying web.”

The light in his eyes fades a little. “I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have been in that situation. It took me too long to tear you away from our enemies. Nothing about your Transition went as planned.”

“You didn’t fail me,” I reply, reaching up and smoothing the hair away from his eyes. His expression softens. “I don’t want you to be disappointed, Clifton. I care about you deeply.”

It’s true. I do care about him. I don’t want to see him hurt. But I know a union will never happen. If I become The Sword, it will only be for as long as it takes for the alliances that I’ve made to bring down the empire. After that, there will be no Swords. No Fates. No Fates Republic. He’ll more than likely end up despising me for destroying what he has worked so hard to achieve.

“Why would I be disappointed?” he asks.

I can’t answer him honestly, so I don’t. Instead, I change the subject. “Are you as worried about tonight as I am?”