Bryn had half a mind to chase after him and demand to know what he was scheming but then thought better of it. She’d already crossed too many boundaries with Valenden; it was time to forget about both younger brothers and focus on her betrothed.
Besides, the guards would stop her from leaving the castle grounds, anyway.
Taking a deep breath, she went to find her future husband.
Chapter
Three
A DELECTABLE TASTE . . . a private talk . . . golden chains . . . giggling gossip . . . amplified magic
The third floor of Barendur Hold comprised the council chambers, the library, and numerous workrooms where servants performed their daily duties.
After searching for some time, Bryn finally found Trei in a corner room that was stuffed to the gills with bolts of fabric, spinning wheels, and worn clothes piled in heaps to be turned into scraps for braided rugs.
Four soldiers flanked the door, which was a substantial clue that her betrothed was inside. No one else in the castle required so much security. When she approached, they parted to allow her entrance.
Trei stood naked from the waist up, his hexmark scars on prominent display, between two wooden dressing dummies while Helna stretched measuring string across his chest. The dummies bore portions of the half-finished suit she was preparing for him.
Bryn stopped short in the door, instantly flushed to see Trei’s state of undress. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen Trei partially unclothed since modesty was far less important in the Baersladen than it was in the Mirien. It was common to see soldiers training shirtless or fishers in only breeches as they pulled in their hauls. But Trei was more formal than his brothers. He almost always wore clean, well-mended clothes unlike Rangar or Valenden, who’d wear yesterday’s shirt off the ground without a second thought.
Her eyes widened. “Oh!” She pressed a hand to her chest as she averted her eyes. “I’ll return later.”
Trei looked unashamed as he gave a genuine shrug. “Stay, Lady Bryn.” And then, as though sensing what had made her flustered, he added, “If you’ll forgive my current state.”
Bryn’s fingers fiddled nervously with the upper button of her blouse as her eyes slid back to Trei’s bare chest against her better intentions.
This is my future husband. As of tomorrow night, they’d be wed. And with it would come all the expectations of their wedding night. They’d be required to consummate the marriage and immediately begin attempting to sire an heir.
Her mind filled with blush-inducing images of what that wedding night would hold. What would it feel like to kiss Trei? Would it be like Rangar’s kiss? Or would Trei have his own way?
Her hand fell away from her blouse as she instantly felt guilty for her thoughts.
Rangarhad her heart and always would. Even if her political position required her to marry Trei, she couldn’t change her feelings. Should she attempt to seek no pleasure from her wedding night with Trei? Keep their love-making formal and cold out of respect to Rangar?
She realized both Trei and Helna were staring at her. She quickly cleared her throat. “I spoke with Saraj.”
A serious look clouded Trei’s face. Helna paused her measurements and turned away, busying herself with one of the garments on the dressing dummies.
Trei glanced at the guards. “Leave us. I’d like a moment with my betrothed.”
The guards silently filed out of the room, and without having to be asked, Helna gathered up some fabric scraps and followed them.
Trei closed the door behind them and turned to Bryn. She felt herself draw in a sharp breath.
“Saraj might be heartbroken for now,” Trei said in his gravelly voice as he straightened a wrinkle on the suit hanging on the dressing dummy. “But her heart will mend.”
Though his words were spoken confidently, Bryn could read in his eyes how deeply pained he was by having to break his engagement to Saraj. He might have been trained in all the right things to say, but it didn’t mean that he believed them. He loved Saraj with his whole heart and had for years; the entire kingdom knew it.
Bryn looked down at her folded hands. “She came to speak to me. She spoke of how duty comes before love. It is obviously a difficult situation for all of us. I wanted to talk to you to see if you were . . . .all right.”
Trei’s hand stilled on the fabric. He faced Bryn with slight confusion in his eyes. “Me?”
He was her future husband, wasn’t he? “Yes.”
He ran a hand through his hair, mussing it distractedly, and then finally let his hand fall. “You’re the only person who asked how I feel about this. Besides Saraj, of course.”
Bryn’s heart went out to him. As firstborn, Trei had borne the burden of the throne on his shoulders since birth, a responsibility Rangar and Valenden had never felt. Like her, they’d been free to live their lives as they had seen fit. But Treihad dedicated himself to ruling the kingdom one day, and he’d made sacrifices so selflessly that everyone had taken him for granted.
