Page 50 of Outcast’s Vow

“Oh.”

“He didn’t lose often, and certainly not against a kid,” Baptiste continues. “He asked about me. And not long after that, he was paying my tuition at a boarding school I never should’ve been able to go near. That’s where I met Fabien and Clement. My brotherhood. That’s how I was able to drag my sorry ass out of poverty.”

“You won a game of chess against George Cote?” I ask him.

“Yes.”

“The former Supreme Elder?”

“Yes.”

“At seven years old?”

“Impressed yet, wife?”

I roll my eyes back as far as they can go.

“Please. You need to do a lot more than a single game of chess to impress me.”

“Admit it, Highness,” Baptiste says, tilting toward me across the table. “You’ve been impressed ever since I spotted you in that island rainforest.”

“What about your parents?” I ask, breaking through his arrogant assault.

His lips thin at the mention of his mother and father. For the first time ever, I see Baptiste genuinely and visibly tense. A shadow crosses his face, and it’s not from the candlelight.

“They’re not important,” he mumbles.

For once in all our verbal sparring, he looks breakable.

“Tell me about them,” I pester.

He crosses his arms.

“Pass.”

“So, nothing?”

I’m deliberately being provocative.

Baptiste shakes his head.

“I don’t want to get into that, woman.”

His voice is low and dark. He’s serious.

“Okay, got it.”

I won’t push him anymore. I’ve found the line and I’ll respect it.

His boundary is strong, but behind it all is a softness. A vulnerability. It surprisingly makes me feel protective over him, and the boy he once was.

I take another sip of wine and, as if to cut through the tension, Baptiste’s phone loudly rings.

20

BAPTISTE

Sylvie is pushing her luck. I don’t talk about my mother. Ever. To no one.