Page 23 of Point of No Return

“So you’re a city girl, after all.” He chuckles, setting his cane across the arms of his chair. “How is your shoulder?”

The memory of him lifting his cane and touching me at the races comes back to mind. It takes an immense amount of effort not to grit my teeth. “Fine. Thank you.”

“And my son?” he looks at Skar. “How is he?” He asks the question the way one might ask about a meal, not a man. It’s a test, one that makes Skar’s shoulders tense. Something that goes unnoticed by everyone else. But not me. “I do hope he's home more.”

For some reason, something fierce takes root in my chest. Maybe because Tyson’s proved time and time again that he’s willing to get out a ruler and compare lengths. He’s a prick.

That’s it,but for some reason, I feel tempted to push his limits right back.

“You know, I was rather surprised by your own absence around the house. How is hospice, by the way?”

My mother chokes on her drink, but Tyson merely grins, nodding slowly as his feeble hands tighten around his cane. “You Prevyain women have always-”

Skar abruptly pushes his chair back, excusing himself as he straightens his suit and disappears behind me. My mother nudges me beneath the table, a warning clear in her eye.

Follow him.

I clear my throat, smiling tightly as I pocket the object she’d given me and stand. “Excuse me. I think I need a moment.”

I stroll in Skar’s direction, slipping my hands into the pockets of my dress and finding him looking out the open awning windows. I lean against the railing beside him, staring out at the river moseying by below.

“Your father is a real treat.” Skar runs a frustrated hand through his dark hair, musing it as I turn to watch him. “Has he always been so interested in your love life?”

“It’s more of a recent development,” he taps his thumb against the railing, one of his rings smoothing against the metal.

Irritation is written in every line of his body, and for the life of me, I can’t figure out whatever the hell is going on between him and his father. There’s something more here that I’m not seeing.

I eye him, for once stumped for words. “Can we be honest with each other for a moment?” I surprise myself by saying.

“Were we not being honest before?”

I roll my eyes even though my question is probably the worst thing to ask in this situation. “I don’t think silence can be considered honesty, Skar.”

His thumb goes still, and he turns so that his back is pressed against the railing and he’s looking at me now. “You don’t have to worry about my… love-life if that’s what you’re going to ask.”

Cocky bastard.

“It’s not.”

“Then ask, Charlotte.”

I stand on my toes to look at another shop across the river, keeping my tone even. “What does your family have against my people?”

He seems startled by the question. He’s searching my eyes, but I keep my face carefully blank, honest. “There are allies and there are enemies,” his voice is gruff. “Which are you?”

Such a careful question requires an even more delicate answer. I think of what my mother would want me to say.

Convince him. Find a way to prove yourself.

But somehow I know Skar would see right through me. It’s one of the few things I can freely discern about him. He’s not like his father or his brother. He would spy my falsities from a mile away.

“Neither,” I settle on finally. He cocks a brow, eyes boring into mine. “I am not blind to the sins Prevya committed in retribution for your laws. Just as I’m sure you’re not blind to the fact that despite our union, my kind will never truly be welcome here. Our marriage is a white flag, and in public, I will play my part. Tell me. Does that make me your enemy?”

It doesn’t make me his ally, that’s for sure.

“We do what’s required of us.” I hold my hand out to him, turning back toward the restaurant. “Now, who do you think will come looking for us first? Your father or my mother?”

His frown cracks just a tad, but he doesn’t take my hand. Instead, he leans down close enough that his heated breath fans the side of my cheek. “You don’t make sense to me.”

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