AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The smile falls from her face.
“Most people call me Ice.” He tries to gentle his guttural growl.
She steps back. Ice follows, hand still outstretched.
Glancing between his palm and his unwavering stare, Sabelle licks her lips and inches her hand in his direction.
Bram lunges for them until his big body shadows his sister’s. “You’ve performed your duty as hostess. Go.”
She glares at him. “You’re being rude. I’m a full-grown witch, not a dog.”
“You’re still my sister and my ward. I decide whose hand you shake. Out. Now.”
“You’re straining my affection,” she warns.
“And you’re pushing your luck.”
When Bram’s expression turns to unbendable steel, Sabelle heaves a sigh of frustration, then stomps from the room. Thick silence falls until the door closes behind her.
Bram whirls on Ice. “I need you as a fighter. I’ll provide you training and feed you at my table. Do not ever touch my sister.”
Hatred spits from Ice’s cold eyes. “I’m not trying to shag the perfect princess.”
From where I sit, that is a lie.
“You will not use my sister and the word ‘shag’ in the same sentence, or I will kill you,” Bram threatens. “Are we clear?”
Ice snorts. “Hold your shotgun. I have no designs on Sabelle. Talk about nightmare in-laws.”
’Tis the end of their exchange…yet not. Whatever hostility lies between Bram and Ice is deep. Nor, I fear, is it over.
“This feud cannot continue,” I warn. “We must work together, build trust, and believe that every warrior has the others’ backs—at least on the battlefield. Or we will fail.”
Ice and Bram share a quick glance. After a moment’s stare-down, they both nod. Mercifully, neither speaks again.
As a unit, we leave the dining hall. Night spills in through the manor’s huge windows. At the end of the long walkway, Bram throws open the double doors. What was once the ballroom I vaguely recognize from his party has been converted into our evening training facility. Every light in the expansive room burns brightly. Someone—servants?—moved all of our equipment inside. Weapons and protective padding litter the elegant floor.
And in the center of it all, Olivia stands, talking to her father.
I see red.
How did the sneaky lout find her here? Who invited him inside?
The older wizard grips her hand and pats it, but I glimpse the urgency in his motions. Even at a distance, I discern a rush of mumbled words. Then Gray sees me. He falls silent, his expression blanking.
Ah, guilt. ’Tis so strong, I can almost smell it. Acrid. Alarming.
Unacceptable.
Every protective instinct I possess rumbles to the surface as I tear across the room in long-legged strides. When I reach Olivia, I wrap an arm around her, glaring at the unwelcome intruder. “Gray.”
Olivia tries to wriggle free. “I’m glad you’re here. I asked my dad to visit so we can all talk.”
I refuse to let her go.
She allowed him into this lair. Does she plot a deeper betrayal to win the bastard’s approval?
“Olivia called to make certain I survived the Anarki attack. I was glad to be assured my daughter is unharmed.”
