“And I’m trying to understand why the man who kissed me like he meant it won’t trust me with the reason.”
The silence was sharp and brittle this time.
Finally, Jakob stepped back. “I’ll give you time to think. But my answer won’t change.”
He hesitated, like he wanted to say more. Like he was fighting himself before he turned and left. The door clicked shut behind him.
Mallory sank onto the edge of the bed and pressed her fingers into her temples. So much for clarity.
She knew that she would go with him. On the most basic level, she trusted him implicitly. With her life, when necessary. She exhaled a long sigh and grabbed her suitcase. Luckily she hadn’t unpacked much, and within minutes, she met him in the lobby to head to the castle.
It only grated her nerves a little when he informed her that he had already checked her out of her room while he waited. She resigned herself to the knowledge that she never really had a choice in the matter. What the king wanted, the king got.
She barely remembered the walk back to her assigned quarters, only the echo of Jakob’s voice as he said it was for the best as it looped through her mind like a cruel refrain. He had disappeared shortly after their arrival, and by the time she shut the door behind her, the silence felt unbearable.
She pressed her back to the wood and slid down until she was sitting on the floor.
“So that’s it,” she whispered hoarsely. “I was nothing to him other than a one night fling.” Truth was, she had no idea what anything was.
The thought broke through the tightness in her chest and quiet sobs rocked her shoulders.
A soft knock came a moment later. Mallory stiffened and hastily wiped her cheeks. “Yes?”
“I hope I’m not intruding,” a gentle voice said. “But I believe you are Mallory.”
Mallory opened the door to find a woman standing in the corridor, one who exuded composure and grace. She wore a simple gown rather than royal finery, though the quiet authority in her posture was unmistakable.
“Yes,” Mallory said cautiously. “That’s me.”
The woman smiled, warm and knowing. “I’m Bryn. I’m here at the castle with my husband, Sven.”
Something in her tone made Mallory step aside instinctively. “Please. Come in.”
Bryn seated herself with calm elegance and folded her hands in her lap. Her gaze was kind and perceptive. Far too perceptive for comfort.
“You look like someone who’s just had her heart stepped on,” Bryn said gently.
Mallory let out a shaky laugh. “Is it that obvious?”
Bryn’s smile softened. “Jakob has that effect on people.”
Mallory blinked. “You know about… whatever that was?”
“Oh,” Bryn said lightly, “very much so.”
Mallory’s chest tightened. “Then maybe you can explain why he looks at me like I’m dessert and poison at the same time.”
“Clean yourself up and meet me in the library. Down the hall and to the left.”
Mallory found Bryn an hour later in a quiet sitting room off one of the castle’s lesser-used corridors. Sunlight filtered through tall windows, catching on the pale stone floors. Bryn sat curled into an armchair, boots kicked off, a mug cradled between her hands.
She looked up and smiled immediately. “You look better but you still have the face of a woman who has argued with a very stubborn royal.”
Mallory huffed a weak laugh. “Is it that obvious?”
“Painfully,” Bryn said, gesturing to the chair opposite her. “Sit. Tell me everything.”
“Are you sure? You don’t know me, and it might be a lot. I don’t know if I should be griping about a king.”
