by T. A. Grey
His half-brother remained silent, denial blazing in his eyes. He didn’t want to accept the truth. Eventually he must.
“On top of those traitorous actions, she’s also an Avagarian.”
“Half.”
Lyle tried to hide his surprise at his half-brother’s slip. “Care to expand upon that?”
“She’s only half human. She told me her mother was raped by an Ava. She learned of it from the old woman, Magda, who took her in and raised her.”
This was news to Lyle. He’d heard the stories that her mother had died in childbirth, but no mention of her father. He’d assumed it’d been a single encounter situation.
“She’s going to be found guilty at trial. No doubt about it. If there’s anything you can tell me that I need to know, then now is the time,” Lyle said. There wasn’t much else he could say at this point.
Patrick paced the length of the desk. “I did know about her history, but I did not know she had anything to do with this attack. You make it seem like she wants to start a war between us and the Avagarians. Why would she want to do that?”
“Who knows at this point? We’ve only begun our interrogation. We hope to learn more about her motives during the trial. Maybe she hates us all and wants us to die. Maybe they offered her something she couldn’t resist. As I said…who knows?”
“Are you certain of all this?” Patrick asked.
“Absolutely certain. Penelope Farris witnessed a conversation between Lysse and one of the Avas. Penelope claims she heard Lysse say many things, one of which was her planning the attack. Lysse chose the time of the Claiming because she knew our defenses would be at our weakest with guards patrolling the arena. She fed them information which led to Tarlèan deaths. There can be no other option for her but execution.”
Patrick remained quiet for several minutes.
“When will her trial be?”
Lyle shrugged. “In a few days? A few weeks? It’s difficult to say at this juncture. We’re still gathering our case against her. It’s solid. I’ll repeat myself to make it clear. She will be found guilty as a traitor. Is there anything you can tell me that can help?”
“Help?” Patrick laughed.
“I don’t like this any more than you do. I liked her—”
Suddenly enraged, Patrick turned on Lyle, slamming his hands down on the desk and knocking over a goblet of water. “Liked her? You didn’t like her. You never cared for her. You only wanted her because I did. Admit it. Admit what you did and maybe I’ll tell what you want to know.”
Lyle came to his feet, unable to handle Patrick hovering above him.
“Fine, if that’s what it takes. I…” he hesitated. Apologizing didn’t come easy to him. “I possibly noticed her because she was with you. But that had nothing to do with her leaving you for me.”
“Bullshit! Say it,” Patrick ordered. His eyes flashed with righteous anger, hands pushed hard enough on the desk to shove it an inch.
“All right, I’ll give you this. I might have chosen her because I wanted to…take…her…from…you.”
Each word came out like a tooth being pulled one at a time, and very slowly.
Satisfied, Patrick nodded grimly. “I knew it.”
A knock on the door and Reece entered. “Your Highness, your next appointment is here.”
“Fine, thank you,” Lyle said, dismissing Reece.
Patrick leaned heavily his cane as he strolled for the door. “I’ll be going. I find I’ve had enough chatter for today.”
“We had a deal,” Lyle growled.
Patrick spun back around with an indolent expression on his face. “Ah, yes, that’s right. I suppose I could tell you that my little story earlier wasn’t quite the truth. I went to that room because Lysse told me that’s where Ryon Ward would be.”
Lyle considered it. “And why were you going to see him?”
Patrick smirked, then shrugged.
“Were you going to sabotage him?”
Another shrug.
“But you were attacked. It wasn’t by Ryon. He would have said something. Who attacked you, and how did you get that bruise on your face?”
Patrick glanced down at his injured leg. Even still, he wore a cool air of confidence that kept the duke bathed in smarminess. “Then I guess it wasn’t him who attacked me. Someone did. An Ava, I believe. The claw marks down my chest would attest to that.”
Lyle could see that he’d gotten as far as he could with his brother.
“Now, if you don’t mind. I have a silver mine to see to.”
With that, he turned and departed.
Chapter 16
For the fifth time that morning, Penelope placed her bare feet on the wood floor only to hear Ryon’s boots stomping down the hallway toward her room in the next instant.
“Damn,” she cursed, and hopped back into bed.
His head poked in the doorway, eyes narrowed suspiciously, just missing her pulling her legs back under the sheets. “What did I say about getting up?”
“But I didn’t get up.” She threw in an innocent smile for good measure.
His narrowed gaze hardened like granite. “I heard the floor creak. I know what you’re up to. You’ve been trying to get out of that bed all day. The doctor said you have stay at least another day minimum.”
“Another day minimum!” she nearly shouted. “If I have to sit in this bed for another day I’m going to explode. I can’t stand it, I tell you. I feel perfectly well. Not sick at all, see my face? No pallor at all. See my wound? Nearly healed up—”
“Nearly,” he pointed out. “You still have a bandage the size of a scarf around your neck for a reason, Pen. You won’t be moving until the doctor clears you.”
Penelope looked outside her bedroom window to send a withering glare to the environment. She couldn’t keep from crossing her arms and scowling. She did not like being ordered around and she did not like sitting in her bed for hours on end. She wasn’t some immobile person too sickly to even walk. She wanted to move, to dance, to feel alive again.
“The wound is being entirely over exaggerated,” she muttered.
“Love, you were bitten by a mad Avagarian. We need to let the wound heal properly and not cause any more damage.”
Ha! She wanted to laugh in his face.
“You know…I was thinking. What’s going to happen to that woman, you think?”
“Lysse?”
She confirmed with a nod.
“We’ll have to wait and see. Tomorrow begins the trial. We’ll give our honest testimony. That’s all we can do.”
Ryon came over to her side and grabbed her hand, eyeing the damage under her bandage. She knew her skin still looked rough but it was far better than it had been.
“Pen, I know you’re bored and I know you’re afraid, but you need to trust me.”
She laughed at that. “You know that’s always been my problem, trusting you.”
“Yes, well, today’s the beginning of you trusting me. It starts right now. This very minute,” he said.
She swallowed over the sudden lump in her throat. If she weren’t careful her stupid eyes would start misting too. “I love you, you know.”
He smiled, a big smile that crinkled the corner of his eyes. “You have no idea how good it feels to hear that.” He leaned down, the bed dipping with his weight, and he pressed a kiss to her lips.
Her breath caught. The kiss was nice and warm. She went to deepen it, but he pulled away, cheeks darkening with color. “Now isn’t the right time for this. No matter how much I want to.”
Scowling, she looked back out her window again. Ignoring him. “Fine.”
He laughed. “Love, it’s not like that. You know I’ve been mad over you for years. But now is not the right time. Your wound is still too fresh, and I have to leave for work. There’s a lot more to take care of since the attack.”
“My wound doesn’t even hurt,” she jumped in to say. “I can roll my neck and everything. There’s a faint so
reness. It feels more like a bruise more than anything. I don’t see why I can’t at least walk around.”
His eyes narrowed. “Fine, you can walk around—” her eyes lit up with hope, “—in your room. But nowhere further.”
A big sigh. “This is utterly ridiculous, I say.”
He grinned. “I have to go.”
She sat up, nearly bumping their noses together. “Leaving? How long will you be gone? You can’t leave me here alone.” On second thought, she quieted, a devious plan forming. If he left, she could dance around the house for all he knew. What a glorious idea. She smiled at him kindly. “Oh, that’s such a swell idea and where are you going?”
Something in the way he watched her said he knew what she was up to. “I have to meet with the king and take care of some other business. Military work. The trial for Lysse Karmine begins tomorrow. I’ll be testifying. You’ll have to give your deposition the following day. You should be mostly healed by then.”
Penelope’s happiness deflated. “I see.”
“Also, since I have to leave for a few hours, I’ve invited your sisters over.”
The knock came at the first floor door. “And that would be them, I suppose?”
“You don’t have to look glum about it. They are your sisters. Thought you might like a break from me being your caretaker.”
“Ah, yes, exchanging one prison guard for another.” She didn’t like her bitter attitude; it stank of petulance, she knew. But she’d been in this bedroom for three, very, very long days.
Chuckling, he gave her another kiss. This time she turned her chin away from and his lips landed her cheek. Leave it to him to continue laughing while he kissed a path up her jaw to behind her ear. Chills swept over her and tingles of pleasure grew where he kissed the skin of her neck.
“I do love your sense of humor, Pen.”
She grabbed onto his shoulders as he nuzzled her neck. How easy he could take her breath away, she thought.
“And I like you well enough.”
“Is that all?” he asked, still laughing. Obviously, he didn’t believe her.
“I suppose I might love you…some.” The words felt right to say to him. To think she’d pushed him away all this time. How silly it all looked now that she’d opened herself to him.
Stomping at the staircase indicated her sisters were near.
“When will you be back?” she asked.
“Tonight, late evening most likely. Don’t get into trouble while I’m gone, yes?”
One corner of her mouth popped up—that sounded like a challenge. He spotted her grin and sent her a reprimanding look—one a parent saved for a child about to steal an extra cookie.
She could see he wasn’t going to let up unless she eased his fears. “Fine. I agree not to do anything. I’ll remain ever invalid for you, my love.”
He bit back his laughter as her sisters came into the room. Priscila held a large pot with what Penelope smelled was her mother’s delicious chicken soup. Penelope’s favorite dish. Her stomach rumbled at the aroma.
Priscilla set the soup down on the table. “See, I told you, Phoebe. She’d love some soup about now. Who knows what this beast of a man has been feeding her the past few days? Jerky and raw meat, probably.”
Ryon looked like he was deciding whether to respond or not. Neither he nor Penelope corrected her sister to say he had, in fact, had been feeding her nothing but healthy, delicious meals since he’d come to her house to take care of her.
Phoebe had brought a vase of yellow daffodils. The room looked instantly brighter with them in the room. Daffodils were Penelope’s favorite flower and they always made her smile when she looked at him. “Phoebe, they are so beautiful. Thank you!”
Her youngest sibling, Phoebe, set the vase on the table near the bed. Phoebe never would admit it, she was too shy, but she was an incredible gardener. She kept a flower and vegetable garden at her house. When she wasn’t off at work teaching archery for the military, she could be found knee deep in soil in the backyard. Maybe shy wasn’t the best term to describe her sister. Phoebe never did take stock of her accomplishments; she could never see how talented she was. She assumed she was average, or below, when that was not the case at all.
“I’m going to get going,” Ryon said, leaning over Penelope to give her a sweet kiss. “I’ll see you tonight.”
She stared into his lovely eyes and smiled back. “Tonight,” she agreed.
After the front door slammed closed and she heard his horse trotting off, Penelope flung the covers off her body and sat up.
“Thank goodness!”
“Whoa there, sis!” Priscilla called, coming to halt her. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Penelope shrugged. “I’m perfectly fine. He’s being overprotective. I need to walk around. I’ve been cramped in this bed for three day. Three days!”
She let that sink in to her sister’s heads. They nodded, begrudgingly, and allowed her to stand up.
Feeling began returning to her limbs with pinprick stabs of sensation. She smiled at the tingles of awareness and carefully placed one foot after the other until she walked to the opposite side of the room—to the soup.
They ate their mother’s recipe for chicken soup, filled with yummy dumplings and potatoes, and ate a piece of crusty bread with it. When they were full, Penelope convinced her sisters, as she was the oldest, for them all to head downstairs. She had to hold the railing as she took each step, one at a time, but she made it.
Each minute she was on her feet she felt her strength coming back to her.
A few hours later, the sun began to sink down below the horizon. Her sisters looked ready to leave and get back to their own lives as they ran out of gossip and things to dish about. Ryon would be back soon and Penelope had her own plan she’d been secretly concocting all day long.
“Why don’t you two go on and leave early,” Penelope suggested. She picked up book she’d started recently and thumbed a page, pretending to read.
Phoebe looked at the door anxious to leave. She probably had plans, Penelope figured. “I don’t know. He said to wait here until he came back. He was pretty strict with us about it.”
“That, and since you plan to let him claim you, I don’t want to cross him,” Priscilla added. “Not if he’s going to soon be part of the family.”
Penelope was surprised. She hadn’t thought of it at all, since the incident. The Claiming Ceremony for her was canceled. She could still marry Ryon in the traditional sense, but neither of them had discussed it. Nothing much had been discussed since the accident.
“I promise, he won’t be mad at you. If anything, he might be a tad cross with me. Nothing too awful, I promise. I’ll just sit here and read anyway.”
Her sisters didn’t look convinced. They watched her with hard, measuring eyes much as Ryon had done earlier. Then, they shrugged.
“You’re a grown woman and I trust your decision. Besides, you look perfectly fine to me. Especially now that you’ve been moving around,” Phoebe said.
Priscilla looked less likely to budge. “I don’t know, Phoebe. Maybe we should stay…”
Penelope decided to throw icing on the cake. “I’ll tell him I forced you to leave by throwing a screaming fit. How’s that? I’ll be good. I just want to walk around some by myself.” She crossed her index and middle fingers in the promise position and held them up. “See?”
Priscilla cracked a smile. “Fine, fine. I’m leaving. I have things to do anyway.”
“Ditto; but Pen, I don’t have to leave,” Phoebe said. “I don’t mind staying a few more hours until Ryon gets back. Are you sure you don’t want the company?”
Penelope grinned like a prized cat—everything was falling into place. “I’m certain. I love you gals. Thanks for coming, now leave.”
Her sisters didn’t take offense, but gave shared hugs and kisses before departing.
Penelope saw the sun nearly gone from the sky. He’d be back soon. Time to put her p
lan into motion—and claim her husband like she wanted.
* * *
Ryon returned home late that evening.
Penelope waited for him like an assassin—only she had no death wish for him—at all. She did wish for something else. Something carnal, and perhaps a little hot. She hadn’t gotten to experience her claiming like she should have. If that day hadn’t been interrupted, she would have been in the arms of Ryon that night, claimed in every way possible by him. Well, she was done waiting. Tired and anxious. She wanted him, and tonight she was going to have him. Whether he knew it or not.
Penelope waited at the back of the house, sniffing a dandelion she’d plucked.
He stomped through the house, calling her name, then her sisters’ names. Hearing no response, his bootsteps boomed up the stairs, then shouted into her empty bedroom. He cursed.
She laughed.
But the fear in his voice took her by surprise. She wasn’t trying to make him mad. She wanted him…supple, not tense. Quickly she turned toward the house and shouted back, “Out here, Ryon!”
Ah, yes. Ryon. His real name was no longer a challenge for her to say. In fact, she could do so with a cheeky grin and without so much as a lick of hesitation.
He charged outside, the door slamming against the house in his wake. She nearly took a step back at the sight of him. She hadn’t expected this. He was quite…livid.
His fists hung in monstrous fists at his sides, teeth were clenched tightly, brow furrowed in a vicious V.
“Sorry,” she said automatically.
“Sorry for what exactly?” he asked, coming closer.
Charging closer, more like. She feared he might run her over.
“Sorry for doing exactly what I told you not to do? Sorry for letting your sisters leave early? Or sorry for lying to me? Or maybe you’re sorry that you came outside alone? Which is it, Pen, because I’m very, very curious?”
He stopped a hairsbreadth away from her. She rocked backward on the soles of her feet as the gush of wind he brought with him pushed her.
She stuttered, mostly from nerves. “I-I didn’t want t-to lie to you, and I’m s-sorry. But I wanted something else even more.” The corners of her mouth pulled up as her eyes softened.
