Alexander looked miserable. “I did,” he said, “but I didn’t know for a fact until this morning that any of this was real or that he was coming back.”
“So you chose Beatrice to be your sacrificial lamb,” Dietrich said, his voice bitter. “And you didn't tell her any of it.”
“Dietrich,” Beatrice said firmly.
“Don't you see the danger he's putting you in?” he asked, his voice softening. “Don’t you care?”
“Of course I care,” Beatrice said, her voice firm. “But Alexander wouldn’t have done it if it wasn’t important. Now we need to figure out how to keep everyone safe.”
“Do you have a plan?” Dietrich asked, turning to Alexander. “Or was your plan to let Beatrice take the fall?”
“Dietrich,” Beatrice said, her tone calm. “He has gone through enough. He doesn’t need you attacking him right now.”
“I deserve it,” Alexander said. “It was my biggest regret the whole time, but I couldn’t see another way to—”
He swallowed hard, his eyes pleading with her to understand.
Beatrice hoped he could see that she was on his side, even with Dietrich’s logical points. What must it have been like to be so alone for all of this, not able to ask for counsel or even share the heavy burden for all those years?
Dietrich glared at all of them. “If you think I'm leaving you alone to deal with this,” he said to Beatrice, “you're wrong. I'm not leaving until this is over.”
“What about your job?” Beatrice asked.
He shook his head. “Even if the Duke came home tomorrow, I’m still not leaving. You’re more important to me than a job, and I’m not going to stand here and watch while they decide your future without you.”
Beatrice sighed. “Dietrich, it's not their fault. It’s the sorcerer’s fault. And now we must come up with a plan to defeat him together.”
She handed the letter to Guinevere, who looked it over herself before handing it to Dietrich.
He glanced at it, his jaw clenching.
“So we'll prepare for a wedding,” Dietrich said, leveling his gaze at Alexander. “But you will be marrying Beatrice again, notthis other girl. And if anything happens to hurt Beatrice, I will kill you myself.”
“And as I said the last time you threatened me,” Alexander said, “I understand and accept it.”
“You’ve already threatened him?” Beatrice asked, glaring at Dietrich. “Did your mother not raise you to have any manners? He’s a lord. You could get in serious trouble.”
“I don’t care,” Dietrich said. “Not if you’re in danger.”
“Well, you better care for your mother’s sake,” Beatrice said with a frown. “Or know what she would do if anything happened to you.”
“She would have you,” Dietrich said, “and I intend to make sure she doesn’t lose you. So we’re preparing a wedding, but that’s not enough. What else are we doing?”
Chapter sixteen
Beatrice
Beatrice watched the sunlightfade through the curtains as she prepared for bed with Guinevere’s help. It had been a long day, with many shocking discoveries, and she was exhausted.
But she couldn't shake the feeling that Alexander might want to see her before they went to sleep in their separate chambers. She would not be making the mistake of falling asleep in his bed again, even if it had been nice to wake up with someone else for the first time in her life.
She hadn't felt as alone as she usually did.
It didn’t matter, though—it didn't seem possible for her to be with someone the way marriage required. She didn't know how to live with someone else. What if she messed it all up?
Her father had been working the trade routes since she was a tiny child, and she’d often spent the night with Dietrich and his mother until her father had deemed her old enough to spend the night on her own.
She was used to being alone.
