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“… to the Heir of House Trajan, she will be given…” Demos read aloud, his voice steady and full of authority.
Not taking his wary eyes off me, Lucius asked aloud to the room, “Ander has abdicated his right to the throne? My, my, Fadon. I guess congratulations are in order.” Lucius’s question dripped with amusement.
“He’s his son,” I whispered stupidly. Lucius widened his eyes, hearing me.
Turning as if in a dream, I stared now at Demos, who was still busy reading the document. I was about to open my mouth when I felt a hand on my shoulder.
Lucius was at my back now. “Sierra, you look like you’re about to faint. I think we should take you back to the villa, let me get a healer—”
Spinning around, I faced him. Through the bond I felt fear. He was terrified. I knew then that it was true, what I’d seen, what I surmised. With barely a whisper, without any feeling whatsoever, I said, “You said you didn’t know who your father was. You lied to me. You…”
Absently, I heard Demos speaking, heard Fadon announcing something, but for me there was only Lucius.
There was no denial forthcoming in his eyes, he seemed frozen.
All this time, he’d been a Trajan. The true Heir, younger than Mari, who was queen only because she happened to be the youngest. Which would make Lucius… King. But what about his hatred toward that House? Was that why he hated it so much? His animosity toward Fadon, was that sibling rivalry? A bitter jealousy? Gods, Lucius had sat among his half-siblings all through dinner those nights at Goth Mor Helle, knowing all along the whole kingdom was his by right… And before we’d left the Mor, he had made me that bargain…
“No. You—Did… Oh gods!” I bent forward, clutching my breaking heart.
“What’s happening right now?” Fadon was suddenly in front of me, and right as he was about to touch me, Lucius pushed him out of the way, intending to grab me, but I slipped away before either man could touch me.
I was shaking my head over and over, slowly backing up without realizing it.
“Sierra?” Demos called, confusion bleeding through my name.
I barely glanced at him. He was holding that scroll, a look of concern on his beautiful face.
Three men who I loved more than anything. One had broken my heart because he couldn’t give me his own. One wanted to force me to marry him because of some piece of paper, and now another had betrayed me.
Yet again, I had been a fool.
Chapter Twelve
Sierra
Oh how I’d wished I could shut it off, my thoughts, my feelings, the emotions coming from the bond as I ran out of the building and out into the street. The only thing I could do, however, was run as far as I could. I had left my cloak behind, and the cold air and wet snow that fell from the sky had me shivering, but it wasn’t long before I was warm enough by the pumping of my arms and legs.
I threaded through streets, through alleys, through archways of side vendors, blindly going wherever there was an opening. People, their mouths open, passed by in a fuzzy blur as I went past. I nearly ran into a food cart filled with dried flowers and spices, causing the merchant who was manning it to curse at me.
I didn’t care. I just kept moving. The further away I went, the closer I could get to some kind of sanity.
His face… I couldn’t get over the look Lucius had given me. A mixture of horror that I had found him out and a look of defeat, the truth glaringly visible. He was the late Ongahri king’s son, and he had lied to me. Had I been part of some grand revenge plot? It looked too much something the Lucius I had first met would do. A calculated, well-played move in his ultimate goal for freedom.
Trick the Fealty Bride into marrying the enemy.
Had he been responsible for my tonics not working? With dawning horror, I remembered the day Lucius had shown me the cottage for the first time, how I had forgotten the bottles left on the table, how Lucius had fretted over it, volunteering to go get them for me. Had he tampered with them, wanting to trigger a heat so he could claim me?
No. I refused to read it that way.
Oh, how he had convinced me to leave Goth Mor Helle that night. Using my empathy for Ander and Neil’s plight as leverage, pointing out the futility of marrying a Trajan prince, encouraging me to revoke antiquated alliances and agreements that were “unfair.” Showing me what a life without chains would look like.
It may have started out that way, I thought as I ran down a backstreet and crossed another, busy with horses and carriages, but it didn’t end that way. I knew he loved me the only way a man like him could—there was no lying about that. No, none of his adoration was a ruse. It was just that he’d withheld something so monumental from me, his mate, the woman he had made vows to in front of the people he led, to his god, and when asked, point blank, if he’d known his father, he’d blatantly lied right to my face.
Ahead, a lady with a purple hat was opening her shop door, broom sweeping the snow off the cobblestone entrance. My sides were killing me from all the running, so I headed that way, thinking I could rest for a bit in her shop.
She seemed surprised when I slowed my pace and entered, but only smiled and kept sweeping. I looked around the shop that smelled like lilacs. It was filled with every shade of purple. Glassware, gloves, gowns, cases of jewelry, even books, all in purple.
It was the perfect place to lie low, I thought, looking down at my lavender gown. Had I been in better spirits and not just given a blow, I’d be exploring everything in this lovely, quaint establishment. Instead, I headed toward a corner where several dress forms stood. The front of the store had too many windows to risk being discovered when the others started searching for me, which I knew they would.
