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“Are you sure? Do you want to talk about it?”
I shook my head. What good would talking do? Especially with him. There was nothing he could do.
“Sierra, are you all right, truly?”
I risked a look at him. My name on his lips always had an effect on me. His eyes were bright with concern. “I’m just tired, Servant.”
That blue-eyed brightness dimmed, and he nodded, looking away. “Whenever you’re ready, my lady.”
Back to titles once more, as we should be, I thought. I hated that I still had feelings for him, hated how I couldn’t learn to let go.
As we made our way to the drawing room, I asked him if he’d give a letter to Lucinda’s sister for me.
“Of course,” he said, looking at me now. I saw sympathy there. He knew how Lucinda’s loss was affecting me.
“When will you be leaving Goth Mor?” Another wave to add to the ocean of feelings, I thought. His leaving me behind.
He turned his gaze away and focused ahead, his tone back to one of indifference. “Seven days, barring any inclement weather.”
A week, then. After that, I’d never see him again. It was for the best. With him gone, maybe I could finally let him go and hope that, one day, years from now, I’d look back on my time with him with bittersweetness, an infatuation brought on by lust when I was just a naive girl who had yet to understand the world of men.
I nodded, my heart pressing against the stone wall I’d built around it.
Taking a deep breath, I released it out slowly, and once again put on my mask to become the Princess Sierra Trajan.
Chapter 37
Fadon
Fadon pulled the drapes aside to see if he could spy Demos and Sierra out in the garden. She had looked far from well at the end of dinner. He admitted he studied the omega more than he should, ever since Syrus Crossing, and knew her face, her expressions, and mannerisms like the back of his own hand now. He also knew her scent, and back there in the dining room, her scent smelled of fear and distress.
The garden she and the Servant were in was right outside the drawing room, where Fadon, his sister, and the others had moved to once dinner was over. Through the glass, he saw Demos’ white robes, spied Sierra’s snowy hair. He relaxed. Both were headed this way, back inside.
He dropped the curtain he’d been holding back and stationed himself at the door. He had no intention of sticking around once Sierra returned and he could make certain she was herself once more. For one, he couldn’t stand the sight of Lucius and his merry gang of followers, especially that Cornelius fellow. Secondly, his brother was tossing back drinks like his life depended on it, which portended a dramatic scene to come.
He looked at Ander now. He was sprawled out on a settee, arm thrown over its back, booted-ankle crossed over his knee, and a whiskey glass full of strong Ongahri liquor, mascus, in his hand. Fadon was used to seeing his brother in such display, but Ander looked downright sullen, more quiet than usual.
Mari was lounging in a tall-backed chair by the fire, her gown pooling around her feet. She was in deep conversation with Lady Lordes. Caziel had excused himself after dinner, saying he wished to retire. Zion stood, a glass of sherry in his hand, near the hearth, deep in thought.
“So, Captain,” Lucius said, strolling up to him, causing Fadon to face the silver-eyed alpha. “I heard you lost some of your men. Sorry to hear about that. Not enough Alpha around as there used to be.”
Lucius seemed sincere, but Fadon didn’t buy it. The last time he’d seen the alpha leader had been less than twenty years ago at the Convivium in South Tarria, where all the Ongahri of Titus gathered every two decades.
Before Fadon could respond, the door opened, and Sierra and Demos entered. He watched them pass by. A sigh of relief escaped him. Sierra looked much better, and her sweet scent proved she was calm.
He turned back to Lucius, whose gaze followed the princess.
“She is stunning, Fadon,” he said in that deep voice that grated on Fadon’s nerves. “And very sweet. Your brother is a lucky alpha.”
Fadon made a sound, and Lucius turned his focus back on the captain.
Raising his chin, Lucius sniffed the air. His eyes widened a fraction. “And unclaimed,” he said, softly.
His blood singing at the hint of threat, Fadon felt his claws extract just a bit. “Why are you here at Goth Mor Helle, Lucius?”
The man grinned. “Your sister invited House Dega to the wedding, Captain. I happened to be staying in Port Minerva when one of my men sent me word that the Queen Alpha had a letter for me. I figured, why not go east to the Mor? It’s been too long since I was here last.” He rubbed his chin, and Fadon could see the dark tattoos on his chest and arms reached all the way to his knuckles.
“In fact,” Lucius said with feigned surprise, “House Trajan also had an omega in residence then as well. Your mother. Lovely woman.”
