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CHAPTER TEN
‘I LIKED ASTRID very much.’
‘You want to talk about my cousin, now?’ he drawled, propping up on one elbow, feathering his fingers over her breast so she sucked in an uneven breath. And yet she smiled, and the dawn light filtering into his bedroom washed over India, bathing her in almost pure gold so her hair shimmered and her eyes shone.
‘She’s sweet,’ India said. ‘And funny.’
‘Correct on both counts. She must have liked you too, because usually she is reserved with people she doesn’t know well.’
‘She wasn’t at all reserved with me.’
‘As I said, she must like you.’
India felt immeasurably pleased by that.
‘She came to the palace when she was only a few months old; she is like my annoying younger sister,’ he said with a grin that showed he wasn’t serious. India thought of Jackson, and how much their sibling relationship had shaped her life. Even now, every decision she made was with him in mind. ‘Her life has not been easy,’ he continued quietly, his brows knitting together as he concentrated on his thoughts. ‘She was bullied as a little girl, by some children at her school. My parents didn’t realise at first. It was only after I read Astrid’s diary—I was twelve—’ he defended, ‘that I understood what was going on.’
‘Astrid was bullied?’
‘She was different,’ he said. ‘She was royal, an orphan, and naturally quite shy. It was easy for her to be picked on.’
Indignation fired in India’s belly. ‘Children can be so horrible,’ she said with anger.
‘Yes.’
‘What happened? Did she change schools?’
‘No.’ His lips curved into something like a grimace. ‘I started taking her to school, walking her to class. I suppose I saw myself as her bodyguard. There was one particularly cruel little girl who used to call her—the equivalent in English would be “loner”—and I...had a word with her, about the wisdom of continuing to taunt Astrid in this manner.’
‘You defended her,’ India said, her heart fluttering at this show of character. It didn’t surprise her—she could tell that Khalil had a form of moralism that was black and white—and yet imagining him as a young boy storming into Astrid’s school to look out for her made India’s chest swell.
‘Until she learned to defend herself. And she did. Astrid grew strong at school, because she had to be.’
‘You said she was married, but I noticed last night she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.’
‘No.’ His lips were grim and now when he looked at India, she had the sense he was holding something back.
‘What happened?’
‘She married the wrong man.’ He hesitated a moment, an uncharacteristic pause. ‘Her husband was charming at first. We were friends, I introduced them, so she trusted him from the start. It was a whirlwind romance, and Astrid fell in love hard and fast. They married months after meeting, but it was a disaster. Astrid fell pregnant quickly, and he began screwing around behind her back, sleeping with half of Khatrain’s elite.’
Indignation burst through her. ‘That’s terrible!’
‘So you can see why, when I had a chance to take something precious from him, I did not hesitate,’ he murmured, his finger tracing an invisible circle over her shoulder, his eyes holding hers meaningfully.
It took India a moment to understand, and then realisation slammed into her like a stack of bricks. ‘Are you saying Ethan Graves is her ex-husband?’
‘Yes.’
India flopped onto her back, her brain exploding, her mind needing to process that without the intensity of his watchful gaze. ‘And that’s why you threw it in his face that you were taking me home,’ she said with a quiet nod, her brain still making connections. ‘Is it why you took me home?’ she asked, angling her face back to his. His jaw was square in his face, his eyes darkened by emotions she couldn’t comprehend.
‘It was a part of it.’ Hurt split her heart in two.
‘I see,’ she said unevenly, pushing back the sheet and standing, her pulse in overdrive. She had come to his room straight from the ball, and her gown was the only item of clothing she possessed here. She lifted it off the floor, shaking it so the skirt fell straight and she could step into it more easily.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Getting dressed.’
