“Are you proposing you spend the night keeping me company?”
Ottar shrugs. “Lara thought it would be nice if I suggested it.”
“So you don’t really want to spend time with me, you’re just offering because your girlfriend is making you?”
“Why are you being difficult?”
“Because I’m not in the mood for any wedding activities. I just want this to be over with.”
“Pretty sure that’s what every bride wants to hear,” Ottar says as he nods toward a footman we pass in the hallway.
“Yeah, Lilly would probably have my head if she heard me say that.” I sigh and then quietly add, “We got into it the other day, again.” I clench my fists at my side, the only indication that I’m ready to blow up from my pent-up irritation. “I’m pretty sure we’re on the verge of breaking.”
“It might seem that way, but you have to know that’s not the case. It’s just the stress of it all. You have a week and a half left.”
“Yes,” I answer as Ottar reaches for the door to my bedroom where the tailor waits.
“Homestretch. Hang in there.”
We head into the bedroom and are greeted by a thin man with a balding head. “Hello, I’m Jiminy, and I’ll be fitting you today. Given the provided measurements, I hope we have a solid base already, but we’ll make any adjustments you might need.”
“Thank you,” I say.
“I’ll step outside while you get dressed. Let me know when you’re ready.”
Jiminy takes off, and I walk up to the suit, but Ottar pulls me back.
“What?” I ask.
“Just want to check it first.”
I want to ask him if that’s really necessary, but I know it is. If I were in his shoes, with the pressure that we’re feeling, I would do the same thing.
“Have you made any leeway on the letter?” I ask.
Ottar shakes his head. “No, but we did receive another one.”
“What?” I ask, on a growl. “Why haven’t I been informed of this?”
“I was going to tell you this morning, but you’ve been in a shit mood. I was looking for a better moment.”
My eyebrows pull together as I say, “Never hold back information like that. If I’m on my goddamn deathbed, I want to know what the hell is going on.”
Ottar pats around on the suit and examines the fabric. “Fair enough.” He stands tall, and from the inside of his suit jacket, he pulls out another blue envelope and hands it to me.
I flip it open and pull out the blue cardstock.
Ten days to go.
Ten days until we meet again.
Ten days until we gain our vengeance.
My mouth works from side to side as I stare at the menacing letter, my mind whirling, my heart pumping.
Vengeance? Who would need to seek their vengeance? This is personal, and for the life of me, I can’t think who this could be. I’ve lived a pretty straight-forward life. I’ve stayed out of the way, I’ve helped the king, I’ve brought life back to this country by retrieving Lilly.
And if this person has a countdown, that can only mean this could be much worse than we’re expecting.
