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My breathing picked up as my eyes remained locked on his.
“Answer me.”
“You are an asshole.”
That smirk deepened. “A deal’s a deal, baby. Or are you not a woman of your word?”
“Don’t manipulate me—”
“I expect you here tomorrow night. And if you don’t show up, I’ll come find you.”
“Good luck with that.” I shoved him in the chest so I could get the door open then stormed out.
6
HARLOW
I joined my family for breakfast the next morning, doing my best to pretend I wasn’t utterly exhausted from the night before. Makeup covered the bags under my eyes, but it couldn’t mask the fatigue I felt all over my body. He did all the fucking and I just lay there, but I felt like I’d run across all the Kingdoms in a single day.
My father sat at the head of the table as always, and Uncle Ian was on his right. Their plates were full of farm-fresh scrambled eggs, strips of bacon and sausage, whole-wheat toast, and roasted potatoes.
My mother sat on my father’s other side, having a meager plate of assorted fruit.
“So, there were three kings?” Atticus asked, wanting to hear about the defeat of Necrosis for the hundredth time.
“Yes,” Uncle Ian said. “And they were all bastards.”
“We would have lost that war without the dragons,” Father said. “When your mother and I arrived in HeartHolme, that battle was lost…until they unleashed their fire.”
“I don’t understand what Necrosis is,” Atticus said. “They’re undead creatures?”
“It doesn’t matter what they were,” Uncle Ian said as he took a bite of bacon. “They’re long gone now.”
One of the servants brought me a plate, a bowl of oatmeal sprinkled with brown sugar. Unlike my father and brother, I couldn’t just eat whatever I wanted and keep my petite size. The men scarfed down their food like their stomachs were bottomless pits.
“You look tired.” Mom pressed her hand to the middle of my back, her question affectionate rather than accusatory.
“Yeah…didn’t sleep well.” Or at all…
“Well, after training with your father this afternoon, you should sleep well tonight.” Her fingers moved through my strands of hair before she returned her hand to the table to finish her breakfast.
“We should spar,” Atticus said, looking at me from across the table. “I’m curious to see if you’re as good as everyone says.”
“No.” That was all my father said, his arms on the table, eating without manners.
Atticus glanced at my father at the head of the table. “Why? You spar with her—”
“If you ever strike your sister, I’ll strike you.” He paused to stare at my brother, to give him that look that said it would be stupid to cross him.
Atticus looked at me then gave a subtle shrug.
“Uncle Ian, I was disappointed you didn’t bring Lila with you,” I said, stirring my spoon in the bowl.
“She’s occupied with her studies right now,” Uncle Ian said before he drank his coffee. “Maybe next time.”
We ate in silence for the next few minutes, not the awkward and uncomfortable kind most people experienced. We were so acquainted with one another that the silence was as comforting as a riveting conversation.
Then my father spoke. “I’ll be joining Uncle Ian when he returns to HeartHolme. It’s been a while since I’ve seen my mother.”
