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Lachlan’s brows furrowed. “I thought her name was Bryn.”
Cait cringed. “Sorry again.”
I sighed, meeting Lachlan’s eye. “It’s Mara,” I said. “I meant to tell you sooner, but . . . well, now you know.”
“Why lie about your name?” he asked.
I groaned, exhausted by this question. I didn’t have the patience to explain. “Tell him, Cait.”
“Okay.” She gestured dramatically toward me. “Lachlan, meet Imperatrix Mara Stroud of the Third House.”
Lachlan frowned at Cait as if she’d told a bad joke.
I cringed, hoping Graham didn’t hear. “Not likethat.”
“Mara Stroud?” Lachlan’s confusion deepened. “No wonder Brennin’s scowling at you.” He turned to Cait. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
I spoke up before Cait did. “It’s not her fault. I asked her not to.”
He looked at me with distrust on his face. “So you . . . stole the throne?” he asked.
I shrugged. “A little.”
Cait reached for his hand. “Be kind to her, Lach. She’s the reason we’re together.”
Lachlan’s eyes softened and he reached into Cait’s curls, tucking a strand behind her ear before leaning in to kiss her passionately on the mouth.
I looked away abruptly, my gaze unintentionally landing on Graham’s across the low flames.
His eyes shot to the ground.
My face grew hot, and not just from the fire.
“I’m taking a walk,” I mumbled, though no one was listening. I stood and headed for the shore, not stopping until I faced the wide black ocean, where the tide rushed up and curled over the tips of my boots. I reached down and took them off, returning my bare feet to the sand, letting them sink deeper with each tingling pull of the undercurrent.
Once the hum of voices was swallowed by the sound of breaking waves, I closed my eyes and breathed. I had to escape my head. The noise. The voices. And Graham.
Especially Graham.
“Need to turn in?” Elin spoke softly behind me. “I know you’ve had a long day.”
I opened my eyes but kept looking out to sea. I didn’t want her to see the heartbreak on my face that would betray just how truly awful my day had been. “Soon. Thank you.”
A long pause followed before she spoke again. “How’d you talk Orrin into letting you come back? I never would’ve expected him to allow it.”
I finally turned to look at her. “I didn’t.”
She tilted her head. “How’d you keep it from him?”
“I snuck out. I didn’t want him to stop me, so I . . . arranged things to make him—and everyone—think I’d been killed.”
“You can’t be serious.” Her voice was low and urgent.
“I know it seems crazy,” I tried to defend myself. “But it’s only temporary. I’ll go back.”
“Oh, Mara.” She shook her head. “You don’t understand him, do you? You’re the only one he lives for—the one thing that’s held him back from burning down the whole city and himself with it.”
A chill ran down my spine. “He’s never seemed suicidal to me.”
