Page 96 of Nocturn

“Why has she not wed?” I insisted. All I received was a tensing of the line of his shoulders.

“No dawdling,” the officer snapped, grabbing my arm and pulling me toward the doors that led deeper into the House of Lords.

“Amara,” her soft, lilting voice sliced to me from the left.

I whirled, rushing to her as she shoved a pastry at the well-dressed man beside her. All my focus was on her. We collided in a hug, her small, shorter stature fitting against me as it always had. Her citrus scent filled my nose.

A pang struck through my chest.

“You are not marrying Viscount Lancet?” I asked through a tight throat.

She pulled back with a huff, still holding onto my arms.

“Father no longer believes he’s suitable.” She pouted, but in the same breath, her expression turned serious before leaning close to me. “You must believe it was not me, Amara. I did not tell them of your Sigil.”

Her rushed whisper settled against my ear, then she was tugged away, and I was forced back by a grip digging into my arm. Emotion crowded inside my chest as I stumbled over my feet and quickly righted myself. A different song led by a fiddle began, and cheering erupted as a fresh wave of bluebloods poured in to dance.

“Miriam,” Lady Bjorn hissed under her breath, now beside her. Miriam craned her head to keep my gaze. It was not the time to fixate on Miriam.

“If you no longer need to⁠—”

“Yes,” I blurted, interrupting the officer. “I apologize. It has just been so long.” I smiled stiffly, forcing myself to turn away from Miriam and move through the throng of the crowd with the same effort it would have taken if I had stones strapped to my feet.

I knew it. Miriam had not betrayed me. A weight I had not realized I carried fell away.

Another pair of guards was posted at the entrance leading deeper into the House of Lords. Egan was one of them.

I clamped my lips together before I exclaimed.

“Officer Tobin.” Egan stepped inside the threshold. The officer stopped and straightened to attention. “At ease, officer.”

“Yes, my lord—I mean, sergeant. I am to take the redblood to the feeder wing upon His Highness’ orders.”

Sergeant? I scanned Egan’s uniform. The simple gold embroidery had spread to line every hem of his velvet uniform. He was no longer a simple officer.

“I will take her. Return to your post.”

He hesitated for an instant, then inclined his head and slipped through the shut doors.

As soon as he was gone, I reached for Egan.

“I am so pleased to see you,” I said, clasping his hands.

It could not have been terribly long since seeing him, but a flood of soft, lulling happiness filled me in his presence.

“You are well? Intact?” he breathed, so close I could smell the cleaning solution he used to bathe. A soft, gentle smell of lavan flower.

“I am.” I squeezed his hands once more and started down the hallway. It would take time to reach where I needed to be. “How have you fared not following my every step?”

“I prefer it to what I do now.”

“Ah, yes, Sergeant.”

Egan winced, keeping pace with my quick steps. “Father insisted on it. He wants me to be Lieutenant General eventually.”

“And you do not,” I said, not asking. In the time I had spent with him, it was quite obvious that he wanted a quiet life.

“No, I much prefer a countryside estate to the political tangle.” He slowed, gesturing to the path branching off. “The feeder wing is this direction,” Egan said, frowning.