Page 17 of A Dagger of Ice and Intrigue
“You’re a smart man,” I whispered. “Even if you truly loved Evie, you wouldn’t have married her if there wasn’t anything in it for you and we both know it. So what is it, Fabrian?”
“This doesn’t concern you,” Fabrian said darkly, his fake charm dwindling.
“This ismyfamily.”
“You should mind your own business.”
My gaze narrowed on him as a chill raced down my spine.
Fabrian wasn’t the first–though, so far, the least eloquent–to imply I pry too much.
That I’m doing too much and taking things too seriously.
That I shouldrelax.
If I would haverelaxedandminded my own business, Aquila’s streets would have still been shoddy and patched, the sentinel guard watch rotation would have still been in shambles, and the gates to our stronghold would have crumbled.
I had no use for empty thanks or congratulations–Grandpa Constantine had warned me those were rare and usually came from people asking for a favor.
But beingcriticizedfor dealing with important issues nobody else bothered with was entirely different.
Nobody wanted to lift their precious fingers, but they all wanted to benefit from the efforts of others.
Myefforts.
And whenever they were asked tohelp–not even take charge, which they should have done all along–or were called out for their inaction, they acted likeIwas the enemy and what a great inconvenience it was to actually be called upon to dosomething.
When Silas had been asked to hand over mere records of the sentinels’ schedule, he’d pouted and stomped his bulging feet for an entire week. Even though that was the only responsibility he had in his life, other than gorging himself and sticking his nose in musty books.
I was sick and fucking tired of it.
Problems didn’t solve themselves.
A louse like Fabrian didn’t deserve my anger, but his careless words picked at a scab I’d had to face for too long–especially after my father had offered Evie the crown.
“Best hold your tongue before I cut it out, Fabrian,” I muttered, smile not wavering for a moment.
“Nobody was allowed to bring a weapon today,Huntress,” he hissed.
I clicked my heels. “I’m Protectorate. I can make do with anything.”
He scoffed. “Trying to steal the attention at your cousin’s wedding is low, even for you.”
“Only you would mistake concern for conceit.”
“This wedding is happening. Or–” The louse had the gall to turn to me with a leering grin. “Is this jealousy I hear?”
Of all the stupid, ignorant–“Fabrian, I’d rather set fire to myself, reheal every time I almost pass out, and endure the flames for all eternity than to ever be jealous of someone who has the misfortune of marrying you.”
“Jealous because someone else is getting married. Weren’t you such a proponent of love conquering all not that long ago?”
For the love of Xamor, dideveryoneknow what a fool in love I’d been?
“Seeing as I’m standing here scowling at you, we both know I was wrong.”
My father sent me a withering look. He pursed his lips against the words he couldn’t speak, but his fingers moved in the secret code only the Protectorate knew.
Don’t interfere. Trust the plan.
