Lord Rossing snorted. ‘And yet you’ve secured yourself a wife. It won’t be long before you’ve ensured the continuation of your line. As a lord with immense power in the North, do you deny my family the same security?’
‘Not at all.’ Matthias wore a strained smile and placed a hand on my knee, setting my skin aflame. ‘However, Asher seems in no hurry to tie himself down. In this time of war?—’
‘In these…uncertain times, he should secure a suitable bride.’ Sir Rossing glanced at his only son who refused to meet his gaze. ‘And soon. I have but one child. If anything were to happen to Asher, my lands would be open to obscure relatives I’ve never seen nor heard of.’
Skye stood abruptly at the words ‘a suitable bride’. Dipping into a stiff curtsey, she left the table. I looked over to Asher. Surely he wasn’t going to allow his father to talk like this. Not in front of Skye?
The woman sitting next to Asher straightened, turning her gaze on him expectantly. Skye was upset, gone, and no one was going after her. I turned to Matthias who stared intently at his captain as though he expected him to follow his sister too.
‘This is why I’ve accompanied your father, Captain,’ the pale woman said, her chin tipped high.
Asher took a long sip of his wine before facing her. ‘I suspected as much.’
‘Well, son.’ Rossing raised his hands while a low growl rumbled through Pablo. ‘Young Lady Bethany is more than suitable. Her own mother birthed seven?—’
‘Eight,’ Bethany interrupted.
‘Eight children without a single hitch. As soon as I laid eyes on her, I knew she was the only choice for my son.’
Asher’s mouth floundered. Was he seriously going to allow his father to talk to him like this? Now I understood Skye’s reaction to the letter.
Clutching Pablo, I stood. ‘I’ve seen jellyfish with more backbone. I’ll go and find Princess Skye.’
Matthias glanced up at me, before inclining his chin. ‘I’d appreciate that.’ I lay my hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently before taking my leave.
Pablo picked out Skye’s scent immediately, straining towards the gardens. I hesitated for a moment. A blanket of grey clouds enveloped the moon, the light sparse, but I needed to find Skye.
I seriously deserved that medal after all.
The sweet scent of late-flowering plants rose on the crisp chill air. The faint whirring of nightjars carried on the light breeze as I clutched Pablo, my breath misting. We crunched across gravel which suddenly gave way to the softness of damp grass.
We padded forward, and I cursed as my heels dug into the ground, sticking with every step. I tugged on Pab’s fur, and he halted as I kicked off the shoes into the darkness.
‘I’ll break my fucking neck with those.’ The wolf whined, adding a snort. I groaned, realising what he meant as my bare feet met the cold blades of grass. ‘I’ll deal with the gravel when I have to. Let’s find Skye first, then maybe there’s a?—’
Pablo spun around, growling as footsteps approached.
‘Or perhaps.’ A clipped tone shattered the night. ‘I could carry you back?’
I turned, wishing I still had my stilettos so I had something to stab him with.
‘I don’t think that would be appropriate, do you, Danté?’
He laughed before emerging from the gloom.
‘I’d say allowing a queen to ruin those perfect toes of hers on the harsh ground would be the least appropriate path. I’m merely being chivalrous, Sorrow.’
Gods, was he staring at my toes? I curled them into the cold grass.
‘I’m trying to find my sister-in-law. If you’ll excuse me, Danté…’
As I turned, he grabbed my wrist. Pablo sprang and the duke cried out.
‘Did he bite you?’ I asked, looking back over my shoulder, the slivers of his handsome face glinting in the shade.
‘No. No. Just a little nip.’ There was a tremor in his voice, and I made a mental note to go back via the kitchens and reward the wolf with a steak or two.
‘Shame.’
