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I couldn’t hide my surprise at his question, causing yet another snort, though this one at least seemed more from amusement.
“Oh, come now, Damian! Surely your presence here on this earth means that I know something of what things ail a man?”
I stared back silently, cocking a brow.
“Your mother and I were very much in love, you know.”
This confession shocked me even further than the fact that the conversation was taking place at all. Other than lecturing me on my duty to king and country, my father didn’t say much to me.
I knew I looked stunned, but my father wasn’t even looking in my direction. Instead, he stared dreamily off into space. “She was… a magnificent woman. It was an arranged marriage, of course, to make alliances.”
“Of course,” I agreed.
“That was the way things were done back then. But now…” He cut me a sharp, assessing look. “If one found a suitable wife, one they were attracted to, that had the qualities he was looking for…”
“You truly do only think of grandchildren,” I remarked, trying to bite back my smile.
“No, Damian. I think of you. Every man wants his own bloodline to continue, I won’t deny that. But knowing I live on in your children is nothing—nothing— in comparison to the fact that my son is happy.”
I couldn’t help but be moved. “Thank you, Father.”
“My pleasure, Son. It doesn’t hurt that she’s easy on the eyes, eh?”
I laughed. “She is at that.”
“Well, I hope?—”
But I would have no time to hear what he hoped, for at that moment a servant burst in. She already looked red in the face and disheveled, but at the sight of the two of us, her cheeks grew beet-colored.
“What’s the meaning of this?” my father boomed, sounding part-concerned, part-threatening in the way only he could manage.
“F-forgive me, Y-your Grace,” she stammered, looking like she would drop into a heap on the floor in front of us as she curtsied low.
“Very well. What is it? What’s so urgent?”
“It’s… it’s the prince’s… ward.”
Instantly, every muscle in my body tightened. “What? What’s happened? Is she all right?”
“She is… fine, Sir. It is the rest of us who are not all right.” The maid appeared to belatedly realize how that had come out, and she hastily added, “Your Grace.”
“Meaning?”
The poor maid looked like she’d rather not say. “She… she has a temper, Your?—”
My father’s booming laughter cut her off. I looked to him, irked, but he met my irritation with more laughter. “You’ve met your match in that one, Son. Well, better go tame your shrew if you intend to keep her.”
Hmm. I’d always wondered what my father had heard of my paramours, certain that some word had reached his ears, though he’d never as of yet mentioned any of it to me.
“Very well.” I strode to the maid, eager if nothing else, to see my waif again. “Lead on and we’ll see what the trouble is, shall we?”
Before she closed the door, I could hear my father’s laughter follow us into the hall. Though it was nice to know I had his approval, as soon as we began walking, my only thought was of her. My little lost waif.
But the picture the servant painted was a far different one.
“She’s… she’s gone mad, my lord!” At my quelling look, she added, “Beggin’ your pardon, but she has!”
“Why don’t you explain to me what seems to be the problem?” I suggested as we strode through the castle.
