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Desfan’s entire body went rigid at the thought of leaving Imara alone with Skyer. The man was domineering and rude; he didn’t seem to evenlikeImara.
“There’s no need,” Imara said. “Serjan Desfan is a friend.”
The skin around Skyer’s eyes tightened. “I see.”
Desfan didn’t falter under the man’s piercing stare.
Imara sighed. “Skyer, please. If you have something to tell me about what’s happening at home . . .”
The man finally looked away from Desfan so he could focus on the princess. “Tensions have escalated between the clans and the monarchy.”
The color drained from Imara’s face. “Have there been any attacks?”
“There have been demonstrations,” Skyer said. “Some of the clans—not Kabu, of course—have set fires to fields, orchards, and manors. Nothing too violent, yet, but it must end. This can only happen once we are married, so we must return home with all haste. Your father has insisted we marry as soon as possible.”
Desfan’s stomach plunged.
Imara’s expression was horribly smooth as she said, “Very well. But I’m afraid I won’t be able to travel just yet.”
“How soon?” he demanded.
“I don’t know,” Imara said. “It could still be a few weeks.”
Skyer’s scowl deepened, and he muttered a curse in a language Desfan didn’t recognize—maybe a clan dialect?
Desfan’s jaw ached, he was clenching it so hard.
“The first part of the journey is by ship,” Skyer said. “Surely you can manage to sit on a ship just as well as that couch.”
Imara stiffened.
Unable to stay silent any longer, Desfan interceded. “Imara needs to remain here until the physician deems her well enough to travel. Surely you don’t want to risk endangering the health of your betrothed?”
Skyer’s head twisted slowly back to Desfan. There was a long, taut silence. Then, “I would speak to my woman alone, Serjan. Leave us.”
Desfan’s chin lowered. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible.”
Imara sucked in a breath.
Skyer’s nostrils flared. “What?”
“Imara has an appointment with the physician now,” Desfan lied, latching onto the first thing he could think of. “She can’t be late. You’ll have to talk later.”
Imara didn’t refute his claim. The fact that she so readily took the excuse made Desfan feel even more protective of her.
Fates, was her father blind? How could he not see how Imara sank into herself in Skyer’s presence? How the domineering man treated her with almost impatient disdain? Or was Zaire Buhari perfectly aware, and simply desperate for the alliance with Skyer and the clans?
Desfan didn’t like either option. Because, either way, Zaire Buhari was not a man Desfan could respect. If Desfan had a daughter, there was no fates-blasted way he’d marry her off to a man like Skyer. He would sooner die.
All things considered, Desfan hoped the Zennorian king was simply blind. Because if he was this desperate for peace with the clans, Serene would have a hard time ending this arranged marriage.
And it needed to be ended.
Skyer let out a scathing exhale. “Fine.” He looked to Imara. “I will go with you and speak to this physician myself.”
“No,” Desfan said.
Imara tensed.
