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What happened to Gray a year and a half ago haunts me. Even if he was the victim of my father’s crimes, in a sick and twisted way, he committed those crimes for my benefit, and there’s no question that I was altered to my very core because of them.
Images of that grisly night do their best to swim to the surface as I head in the brothers’ direction, but I shut them down. I have to. Gray already knows how I feel about what happened to him. He doesn’t need any reminders.
I throw my leg over the bench and sit beside Bron, my back to the room. “Here to visit the traitor?” I drawl and Bron rubs a hand across his brow, looking stricken. I feel like a heel, but distracting Gray from what may be showing on my face is more important than Bron at the moment.
“Deve,” Bron starts, “I want you to know that I played no part in my brothers’ scheme. And I wish I’d done more to protect the a’deve, but Noé –”
I lift my hand to silence him. “I never suspected you did, Bron, so stop planting your seeds of doubt in my head and go get me some ale.”
“Of course,” he says, getting up, relieved to be let off the hook so easily. But it’s true, it never crossed my mind that he was involved.
“Oh and a half cup of gut-rot,” I call as he slips away to the kitchen.
With no other choice, I finally turn to Gray. He’s watching Cayson over my shoulder. “What’s going on there?” he asks, lifting his chin. “Why are you not currently balls deep in that? I would be.”
“Since I doubt you’re referring to your brother, I assumeshe’sover there.”
“She is. She’s looking at the skulls on the wall. So far she’s staying out of my brother’s reach.”
“Yeah, she’s not stupid, that one.”
“You like her,” he accuses with what almost passes for a chuckle.
“Fuck, I don’t know. Things are . . . unclear.”
He sips from his tankard. “Most of the village hates the idea of an outsider ruling next to you, and they’ve seized upon Carson’s death as a way to prevent it.” He shakes his head. “And this thing with Cayson . . . I don’t know, Luka. It’s even less popular than she is.”
“Surely the bloody coins are proof enough of your brothers’ betrayal.”
“The coins don’t mean much to people. Sure they’re interesting, but the idea that they hold value isn’t well understood here. It’s all foreign manipulation to them.”
I scratch at my beard, self-doubt rearing its ugly head. “Fuck. This is why you should have been deve. You never would have let yourself get roped into an arranged marriage to some unknown princess.”
“Don’t be stupid, Luka. First of all, I was already married, and second, despite my mother’s plots, I was never aiming for the title.”
If only my father had believed that, I think darkly. Aloud, I say, “Can I count on your support? This will all come to a head sooner or later.”
He takes another slow sip of his ale, but remains mum because we’re interrupted by, “Disgusting whore!” which echoes off the stone walls.
“I should go over there and finish that filthy rapist right now,” I grit out. “Touching what’s mine, trying to undermine me instead of facing me like a man. I don’t know how you’re related to him.”
Tankard paused halfway to his lips, he pins me with a scathing look. “The same way you were related to your sire, Luka. The same fucking way.”
Shame immediately cools my wrath, and I’m grateful when Rina appears at my side to provide a distraction. I watch her incline her head to Gray in greeting, then say, “My deve?”
She waits for my full attention before she goes on in what I’m sure is her most pleasant tone. “I was wondering if you’d be so kind as to loan me your dagger.”
A grin tugs at the corner of my mouth. This woman. “And what would you be needing it for?”
She sits beside me, her back to the table so she can continue to size up her prey. “It seems I’ve grown weary of the wordwhorethis evening.”
“And you think a knife is going to cure you of this weariness?” I ask wryly.
She swings her head to face me. “Maybe not, but I doubt it will make it any worse.”
I concede her point with a tilt of my head. “I hate to disappoint you, my little raven, but you’ll have to wait to watch him suffer. These things must be seen to be done in the proper way.”
Huffing with annoyance, she pivots on the bench, carefully getting her wounded leg over to sit facing the proper way.
