Page 97 of Fearless

The king would laugh if he hadn’t forgotten how to. “And what makes you think I want your bastard?”

Oliver swallows, his breath shallow. Myla narrows those gray eyes.

The king swings open the door with a stipulation sliding from his tongue. “If I am to call another child mine, he can be nothing less than powerful.”

“He is,” Myla blurts, ever the protective mother. “No one in Ilya is like him.”

This equally intrigues and amuses the king. “We will see about that.”

Myla hands her son to the Silencer, hating how empty her arms feel without him in them.

The baby doesn’t fuss or fidget, rather, he simply accepts the fate forced upon him. Black hair clings to his small skull, curling around his ears to copy that of his mother. He looks up at the foreign man holding him, and those gray eyes don’t stray from the Silencer.

“Well?” Edric’s impatience echoes through the room.

Damion’s gaze lifts to his king, looking less solemn than usual and more impressed than ever. “The boy is extremely powerful. I’ve never felt anything like it.”

The king grins. Marrying Myla Rowe will earn him power. Earn him a son he can mold into a weapon.

This is all it takes for the king to claim the child as his own. All the power. All the glory.

“I accept your proposal,” Edric says to his adviser, eyes still pinned on the strength squirming in his Silencer’s arms. “He will be mine.”

CHAPTER 34Kai

Dice clatter across the table.

Laughter echoes after my roll, followed by large hands that scoop away my shillings. “Better luck next time, Highness!” the burly sailor bellows.

This heartfelt sympathy is followed by another from across the table. “Damn, Azer, you’re makin’ this too easy.”

I lean back in my chair, shaking my head at the four men. “It seems my mind is elsewhere this round.”

“Just like the five before!” This shout from the burly man continually stealing my money has the rest of them laughing.

“All right, all right.” I stand to my feet and sway with the rocking ship. “I think I’ve lost enough shillings for one night.”

“No, don’t go yet!” The man’s gold tooth winks at me between his words. “I’m savin’ up to buy me my own barrel of rum.”

“Aye!” They all but yell this in unison as I head up the stairs for the main deck.

“Evening, gentlemen,” I yell over my shoulder, making them laugh harder with my choice of words.

Lifting open the grate, I climb onto the deck and into the night. I take a deep breath of muggy air and head for the poorly patched railing. The sea is eerily still beneath me, the waves a mere rolling reflection of the moon hanging above. It’s been unbearably hot the past few days, though the unbearable part is likely due to my lack ofher.

I run a hand through my ruffled hair, still angered by our argument days ago. The hours have dragged on without her to brighten them, leaving me with nothing to do but gamble away my shillings and drink enough rum to convince myself it tastes good.

I’ve seen glimpses of her, shared looks she refuses to hold. I can sense her presence on the other side of my wall, feel the empty space in my bed that once occupied her warmth. It’s absurd, really. The fight. The truth.

Because that is the root of it all—truth. Something I am not strong enough to hear.

I lean over the rail to peer into the sparkling water below. It is selfish of me to be angry with her, I know. But it is easier that way, as though I’m looking for a reason to lose her that isn’t my brother.

Soft footsteps suddenly echo behind me.

I don’t need to turn to know who they belong to. She must have wanted me to hear her coming.

“Hi.”

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