Page 126 of His Noble Ruin

Dozens of carriagesbrought the city’s nobles to the gates of the Second House. My father climbed from our carriage first and helped me out. I wasn’t sure if it was because of my injury or if he was putting on his noble act, but I pulled my hand away as soon as my feet touched the ground.

We crossed the fragrant grounds and followed the crowd into the grand entry hall. It was the same size as ours but decorated with ornate gold-trimmed furniture, larger-than-life portraits, and enormous crystal chandeliers. Our home was stark in comparison.

One particular portrait caught my eye. Young and serious blue eyes peered from the canvas with uncanny realism. The boy looked younger than the Graham I knew, and not a perfect match, but I still couldn’t look away.

My father put his hand on my shoulder and whispered. “You’re holding up the line.”

I glanced at the nobles behind me, trying to smile when they greeted me with deep bows.

We went past the entry hall into the ballroom. Heavy draperies covered the windows, blocking out the daylight, and black suits and gowns filled the candlelit room. The smooth floor reflected black and gold. For a moment, I saw a lake mirroring a sky of stars. I squeezed my eyes shut as a tingle ran down my spine.

When I opened them, my eyes landed on the open gold-leafed casket in the center of the room. An empty space surrounded it as if nobody dared to get too close.

I pulled away from my father and went to it. My feet didn’t stop until I reached the casket. Desmond Brennin’s face was peaceful but gaunt and gray. His body would soon be sent out to sea on a pyre, and Graham wouldn’t be here to see it.

I bowed and said a quiet poem for the dead, adding in a few whispered words of my own. “I’ll bring him home. I swear.”

I lifted my head and caught Maeve Brennin’s glare from the far end of the room. Even under house arrest, her stiff back and turned-up nose were as proud and contemptuous as ever, but the redness around her eyes revealed her weakness. Despair, guilt, distrust. Regret.

She was even more alone than I was.

Whatever resentment she’d had toward Graham hadn’t completely extinguished her love. She’d hidden it behind her hunger for power, but I knew enough about love now to realize it didn’t look the same on everyone.

I almost walked right up to her. I almost told her I was sorry. For her husband. For Graham. For my betrayal. But I had to keep up appearances. Most of Cambria believed she’d attempted to assassinate me. She’d eventually stand trial and could even be executed for treason—unless I brought Graham back.

That was all I could do to help her now. I couldn’t say a word to her without everyone in the room getting suspicious, so I held back.

“Lady Stroud.” A man bowed in front of me.

I didn’t know who he was until he stood from his bow. When I saw his face, I wished I could run.

Graham’s haughty cousin smiled at me. “I am Patrick Donovan of the Eighth House. It is a privilege to finally meet you after all these years. It is under unfortunate circumstances, however . . .” His eyes narrowed and he tilted his head to the side.

I put on my most gracious smile, one he never would’ve seen on Bryn Yarrow, and curtsied. “I am so very charmed, Sir Donovan.” My accent was so flowery that I tried not to wrinkle my nose. I knew I looked and sounded completely different than the day I’d met him on the library steps, but his expression unnerved me.

His smile returned. “You are most welcome. I hope you are making a quick recovery. If I may be so bold”—he leaned in a little closer—“have you made a selection for the position of First Immortal yet?”

“I certainly have.”

“Oh.” He raised an eyebrow. “Well, I would love to hear whom you have chosen, milady.”

“Of course you would.” I curtsied. “Now if you’ll excuse me, sir.” I walked away from him, exhaling out my fears.

“Mara?”

I flinched at my father’s voice.

He came to my side and whispered. “What was that about?”

“Just giving my condolences.”

“That was brave of you,” he said. “Ready to get out of here? You’ll have to endure a thousand congratulations after your coronation. Let’s not wear you out just yet.”

I put my hand on his arm and smiled. “I’m ready.”

He patted me on the back and led me from the ballroom. “That’s what I like to hear.”

My back stiffened at his touch. I never wanted him as my enemy, but that’s what he’d become.

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