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He forced his voice to remain even. “I’ll arrange for you to receive a full tour of the palace.”
“That will suffice. Now, tell me how she was injured.”
Desfan did so, trying not to reveal too many details. He didn’t have a strong reason to keep Skyer in the dark, other than he didn’t like the man, but that seemed reason enough not to inform him of all that had been happening in Duvan recently.
When he finished, one dark eyebrow arched. “She saved your life?”
It was not the detail he’d expected Skyer to fixate on. “Yes, she did.”
The man barked a short laugh. “She’s a tiny thing. Admitting she protected you in battle is not something a member of the clans would ever do.”
“I’m not of the clans,” Desfan returned thinly. “I’m Mortisian, and I believe in honesty. Imara is brave and fierce.”
Skyer laughed again. “Words I would not use to describe her, but perhaps I have yet to know her fully. Maybe one day she will show me her bravery and protect me so fiercely.” He snorted, clearly discounting the idea.
Desfan stopped walking.
Skyer made it another two steps before he realized Desfan had halted. He twisted, his brows lifting. “Is something amiss?” he asked.
Desfan’s jaw worked. “You will not disrespect her again.”
“I do not disrespect her,” Skyer said easily. “I only speak the truth. And even if Ididshow her disrespect, I do not see how it is your concern. She is mine. Not yours.”
Desfan could almost feel the tension among the four guards playing witness to this, but they didn’t have his focus—Skyer did. “She is not yours yet,” he said slowly.
Skyer smirked. “She is my betrothed.”
“And she is also my friend, a princess of Zennor, and an honored guest of Mortise.”
“Perhaps. But we will marry as soon as we return to Zennor, and then the only title she need concern herself with iswife.”
Desfan’s skin felt too tight. He had a thousand scathing responses, and one emphatic denial. But for now, he kept his voice level as he said, “For as long as you stay in my palace, you will treat her with respect. Is that clear?”
Skyer’s eyes were inscrutable, though the corner of his mouth remained slightly quirked. “Extremely clear, Serjan. In fact, I think I begin to see everything clearly.”
Desfan met the man’s stare easily. Frankly, he didn’t care what Skyer saw in him, or if he assumed Desfan had feelings for Imara. He may not be able to make those feelings public, but he wasn’t about to tell Skyer they didn’t exist. “Good,” he said, keeping his reply simple.
Still wearing that aggravating smirk, Skyer huffed shortly; it conveyed a strange mix of irritation and humor. “As long as we understand each other, Serjan. That is all that matters.”
Chapter 36
Imara
Imara’sheartpoundedandher ears roared as she stood outside the dining room. Sweat coated her palms, making her cane harder to grip.
Every hour since Skyer’s arrival earlier today had almost felt unreal. Panic threaded through her, and her thoughts jumbled. His appearance had been so unexpected. And, fates, she’d forgotten how overwhelming he was. He walked into a space and demanded control of it. Watching Desfan’s reactions to Skyer had only aggravated her mounting dread.
She wanted to scream. She wanted to run. She’d done both of those things once, but she couldn’t do them again. Zennor needed her. She had to be strong. She would not run from Skyer again.
Shedidlet Desfan lie for her, though. When he’d said she had an appointment with the physician, she hadn’t countered him. She’d let Desfan and Skyer walk away together, and she’d remained in her office and fought to calm her ragged breaths.
When her hands finally stopped shaking, she’d called for Kaz to take her to her room. She’d kept expecting Skyer to come barging in, but he hadn't. Hanna helped dress her for dinner, and still Imara expected Skyer to appear.
He had not.
So, she had Kaz escort her to dinner.
It was a large affair, as it always was in Mortise. The council members were all there, along with many of their family members and any other visiting nobles. Music drifted from the corner as a lute was strummed, and conversation rumbled in the great stone room. The meal smelled delicious, but Imara’s curdling stomach rebelled against the very notion of food.
