Turns out he was the one who tried to scare me when I got here with his stupid whistles at night.
His mouth twitches with a subtle smirk. “So you’ve found the family treasure. I never liked that book.”
“Having trouble relating to the guilt-ridden murderer, I suppose.” I keep on reading, hoping he’ll go away if I appear disinterested.
He walks farther into the room, scanning the titles on a random shelf with his eyes. “Every man has a conscience, sis. Some are just better at ignoring it than others.”
“Don’t call me that.”
Grinning, he picks up a book, handing it to me. “Here. Your husband might enjoy this one. It’s about a man who hesitates too much and loses everything.”
I peek at the cover—Hamlet. What a bastard. I refuse to take it from his hand.
When I leave him hanging, he puts it on the table in front of me and chuckles—a clipped, knowing laugh. “You’d think someone in his position ought to try a little bit harder. But who am I to judge…”
“And what position is that, Mikhail?” I put my book face down in my lap.
Shoving his hands in his pockets, he squares his shoulders, cracking his neck as he takes a dominating stance.
“That of a man fighting for a throne he’ll never sit on. Because while we might be tolerating him…” He shakes his head dismissively, “No one in this family truly wants him here.”
It’s not my fight, not my problem, but his words strike something deep in me anyway.
Heat crawls up my neck and behind my ribs, nostrils flaring above a tight, bitter smile. My fingers itch with nerves, tightening around the edges of my book like claws.
Yeah, I remember this feeling all too well.
Being unwanted. Discarded by your own, like you don’t matter. Maybe my husband and I have more in common than I thought.
“You know what I’m seeing right now, Mikhail?” I stand up. “A jealous, lesser man who wants what his brother has so badly that he doesn’t even realize how pathetic he is. I may have my own issues with Wolfgang, but at least he’s man enough not to speak badly of his family behind their back.”
“A lesser man…” Mikhail echoes, not looking upset in any capacity, but rather amused. “And yet, I took a beating for you. It was interesting to see how much my brother cared about you even before you became his wife…” he trails off. “Maybe, instead of jumping down my throat, you should pay closer attention to what’s really happening. He’s about to lose everything. And it will all be your fault.”
He laughs, and I’m stunned, at a loss for words. He took a beating for me? What does that even mean?
Why would Wolfgang do something like that?
Mikhail’s presence unsettles me, so despite my curiosity I don’t stick around to grill him for answers. Instead, I storm out, hoping he sees my anger, not my fear. But no sooner do I take a few steps when I bump into a hard chest, stopping me in my tracks.
“Fuck—I’m sorry, I—”
“Why are you running?” Wolfgang asks, looking down at me.
“I just, um…”
“What’s wrong, love?”
Behind me, the doors to the library open, and Mikhail comes out. Wolfgang’s eyes leave mine, glancing above my head. His jaw clenches, and a protective hand snakes around my waist, pulling me close.
“What did he do?” he asks, his voice thunderous.
I shake my head, sensing a fight I didn’t mean to provoke. “Nothing. We were just talking.”
“Talking,” he echoes, as if he doesn’t believe it one bit.
I take his scarred hand in mine, wanting to pull him along with me. But he isn’t budging.
“Come on. I want to go for a walk.”
