Page 53 of Rook of Ruin
Shit. Did Nora get this wrong? Have I been angry at Simon for no reason?
“Can I come inside? Please, O.” I hold the door open and motion him in. I watch him take a mental note of the pillow and blanket on my favorite couch and that the door to my bedroom is closed. “Is the Rook awake?”
Not committing to an answer seems safe at the moment, so I shrug again.
Simon plops down on my other couch, his black leathers pulling to his chest. He leans forward, glaring at the pile of gift boxes in the corner of the room that I have yet to go through. “Have you had breakfast?”
“What do you want to say, Simon?”
As if on cue, Nora knocks on the door and then brings in breakfast.
“My lady, should I take Mr. Ossian’s—I mean, the Rook’s”—she gives a small laugh—“breakfast into him?”
“Yes, Nora. Thank you.” She knocks on my bedroom door and then disappears into it, carrying a tray of food and a thick brown package.
The tension in the sitting room could be sliced with a dagger. Nora emerges from my bedroom with a blush, shuts the door, and pours Simon and me tea. I select a few pieces of toast and patiently wait until I hear the chamber door shut behind her.
Simon heaves a sigh. “Yes, my father is the king of Bethal, but I’m a bastard. I will not inherit the throne; it is my brother Callan’s. I am technically a prince, my father claimed me, but I go by Sir Caddel because I was knighted due to my own merits. I’m here on my father’s behalf to secure interests for our kingdom.”
“And those interests?” I ask cautiously.
“Not something I can speak to you fully about. But I can tell you that they align with peacekeeping. What happened last nightis something that is happening all over. They tried to assassinate my father, and I couldn’t tell you. I wanted to, but you know how it is.” He takes a drink of his tea and leans back. “I couldn’t tell you I was a prince. Not because I didn’t want to, but because your queen requested me not to.”
Queen Inara can be a difficult woman and has always toyed with people. Luckily, I was one of the few she rarely concerned herself with, but why would she have made that specific request of Simon?
Simon does that dismissive flick of the hand. “The marriage bid was placed by my father, not by me. We have an agreement. I will be open-minded about you, but I am not required to marry you. If we were to agree to marry, it is because we chose to, not because either of us were forced to. I would not personally send in an offer of intent or a bid until I determine you are worthy. I don’t want a marriage of convenience. I want to have one that has respect, friendship, trust, and hopefully love. It’s important you understand—if I choose to offer my hand, it will be to you personally.” He looks at me with a slightly sly smile. He used our game, knowing it had some type of meaning. “Since I haven’t asked you, there is no reason to worry about marrying me.” He smiles like he just solved a very complicated problem for me.
I don’t know if I should be insulted or relieved that he has not asked me. I now also understand why he was acting like he wanted to tell me something and couldn’t. I would probably have behaved similarly.
Simon looks at me uneasily. “You did not read my letter, did you?”
“I did not.” Deeply ashamed is the superficial wound I display for him. Inside, I’m in turmoil. I behaved poorly to someone who has been nothing but kind. “I apologize for my quick judgement, accusations of dishonor—”
“Just say you were being a dickhead, and I’ll forgive the whole thing.” His dimples are showing.
“I was being a dickhead.” I smile back.
“I was being a dickhead too, O. Really, I should have told you everything.” Those dimples grow deeper into his face.
“Why didn’t you at least tell me about the marriage proposal?” I don’t ask about the queen’s request; he’s not privy to her internal thoughts. If he knew why, he would have said. It was a favor requested from a monarch to a prince.
“I didn’t think it mattered, since I wasn’t the one who sent it. Plus, I see that you have plenty of suitors.” He nods towards the unopened boxes. I roll my eyes, and he laughs. “Since you didn’t read my letter, I’m assuming you haven’t been to the stables lately?”
“No?” I do owe the best boy in the whole world a bushel of apples.
The gleam in his eye has me on edge, wanting to know what could possibly be going on at the stables. “I suggest that you go very soon.” He gets up and walks out my door with a wink.
A few hours later, I’m dressed in a crisp white blouse and tan chiffon skirt, flipping through the nymph and fae books by the fireplace in my sitting room. To my disappointment, Alec managed to smuggle in clothes, the white button-down and black pants a step down from his nakedness. He’s reading the last few pages of his farming book, and I watch him, fascinated that he can read something so boring.
“If you don’t stop staring at me, I won’t be able to control myself. Nora will walk in with dinner and see my head between your thighs, and then what?”
“She will be jealous.” I give him my best innocent face. “It probably wouldn’t be so bad. She might have something to think about later.”
His eyes flash. “No. There’s no one else who gets to see you like that. Only me.”
I still. I wish that were true, but we both know it isn’t. I see the look on his face after he comes to the same realization and dread the pain this is going to cause him. The only way to stop it is if I back away. I will marry another man who will have me any way a husband would want his wife, and I’ll allow it. That’s the worst part. I’ll allow it for my kingdom. Alec will go back to being a Rook, the Spider. He’ll be knighted, find a wonderful woman who happens to love reading about the future of farming, and they will have four kids . . . and all of them will have his glorious grey eyes. I smile sadly at that thought.
“What are you thinking?”
