Page 17 of Stolen Princess's Secret

He shrugged away from her instead. Heaven, give him space.

‘I called my first pony Tomas. My first wolfhound Tom-Tom. My first falcon Toot Lolo,’ she told him and then took a step back. ‘Call me obsessed. I won’t deny it. I wanted to remember you any way I could.’ Delicate colour stained her cheeks as she tugged the sleeve of her travelling cloak aside to glance at her wristwatch again. ‘Three minutes,’ she said, as if she could force briskness upon them. ‘You might want to do something with your hair. It’s sticking up all over the place.’

He retreated to the bathroom, feeling flayed around the edges. Heartsore over the naming of a bird. He normally took a towel to his hair then ran his fingers through it for good measure, but he was six weeks past due for a haircut and maybe this time he could use a comb.

Maybe doing something so menial would bury the urge to take his fingers to her hair and mess it up beyond redemption as he pressed slow kisses to her cheeks and her eyes and inevitably her mouth.

He met his own gaze in the mirror and narrowed his eyes and flattened his mouth until he looked fierce and forbidding, all other emotions forcefully contained.

Better.

She smiled when he exited the bathroom and he scowled his reply, but did that deter her?

‘You look amazing,’ she murmured approvingly. ‘I’m grateful you’re not yet married or otherwise attached. Why is that? Lack of opportunity? Hidden vice? A solitary nature?’

‘I am what I am.’ It wasn’t his fault he’d never yet found a woman who could handle him in the long term. ‘Don’t analyse me.’

‘You’re asking the impossible.’

‘You’ve risen from the dead once already.’ As far as he was concerned, she was mistress of the impossible. ‘Just do it.’

Claudia waited impatiently as her brother’s equerry stood by the closed double doors to the throne room and ticked her, Tomas, Silas and Lor off the guest list. It was an honours day with Cas in residence, intent on bestowing riches on the worthy. Silas and Lor—being well past retirement age—were being gifted a grace-and-favour cottage within the walls of the winter fortress and a generous stipend to replace their wages. If they weren’t yet ready to retire, there was now a plan in place for them to step back gradually from their vast responsibilities. Silas’s bones had been brittle of late. It was time to slow down.

Claudia was being gifted a previously mothballed duchy on Byzenmaach’s northernmost border, and it encompassed the winter fortress in its entirety. Henceforth, she would be known as Princess Claudia, the Princess Royal, King’s Counsel and Duchess of Ayerlon. So many daunting titles and she vowed to do them all justice.

As for Tomas, he too would receive his due.

She’d had a hand in it, of course. All he had to do was keep an open mind.

The King was waiting for them just inside the doors and Tomas entered and bowed as he was introduced by name and lineage. His family had been falcon masters for centuries and in service to the King for the last three generations, and he was proud of that legacy. He knew he would have to take a wife soon to secure the family name, but he was still in his early thirties. There was still time to find someone suitable.

Don’t go there, he told himself fiercely. Do not picture Claudia of Byzenmaach in your bed.

He who’d spent years honing his senses so he would always be in control of his reactions and his raptors had a dominant streak a mile wide in the bedroom. He liked being in control. It was a point of pride that he could just as easily satisfy his partners with soft, slow kisses and attentiveness as he could when he got his edge on. The point was, he never lost his head. He never stopped noticing and analysing everything about the person he was with.

He did not want to think about what might happen if he added Claudia and a mountain of unresolved feelings to that mix.

He stood in line, waiting his turn to stand before his King, and tried not to look too shocked when Claudia—regal and resplendent in a rose-coloured ballgown and diamond choker and earrings—received a duchy that encompassed the finest mountain wilderness in all the land. It included the winter fortress. That fortress so casually traded was his home, and indignation prickled at his skin, already held tight by the fine fabric of a coat that had been made for ceremony rather than for him.

He watched, silently seething but outwardly a picture of calm, as her brother held out his hand and she took it and rose and kissed him on each cheek before moving on.

Silas and Lor then took her place in front of Casimir and Tomas wondered, not for the first time, how old they were. Were they in their eighties already? Late seventies? They’d been old when he was a kid. Kind and patient with him, the grandparents of his heart in lieu of blood kin.

Tomas listened as Silas and Lor were given a pathway towards living out their days in a manner both generous and respectful of the many years they’d called the winter fortress home. It was fitting, and Tomas grudgingly approved.

And then it was his turn and he wondered exactly what Casimir had in mind for him.

He was too young to retire, so why was he here?

‘Tomas Sokolov, son of Andreas, grandson of Yos,’ King Casimir began. ‘Your skill and dedication to the sport of falconry has brought Byzenmaach great standing. Your breeding programmes for endangered species are acknowledged worldwide. My sister vouches for your kindness and protective nature when we were children. My wife and daughter cherish your patience and gentleness with them. Beyond that, I know you, Master Falconer. I see your dedication to the welfare of all in your care and your passion for your causes. It’s time to spread your wings.’

‘Are you firing me?’ Because he couldn’t. Surely he wouldn’t? Tomas had been nothing but loyal, and although he had apprentices to pass his knowledge on to, it would take years before any of the current crop could replace him. ‘Fair warning, many of the birds in my care will go where I go.’ It wasn’t an idle threat. ‘There’s no other way.’ Casimir knew this, surely. ‘They’re imprinted on me.’

‘Good thing I’m rewarding you rather than letting you go, then, isn’t it.’ Casimir sounded exasperated. ‘Happy surprise, my arse. I knew I should have warned you in advance.’

Tomas held his tongue as Equerry Dorn approached with a weathered scroll sitting atop a velvet pillow. Claudia held a similar scroll in her now gloved hand.

‘Kneel.’

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