“I want us to try again,” Sam says, steely now as shemeets my eyes. “I want us to start over. We’ve been fighting a lot lately, and I think you would agree with me that it’s not sustainable. We should be united right now.”
“United? Nouria deliberately made me think I couldn’t get married. She willfully manipulated the truth to make the situation seem dire, simply to wound me. How can such petty machinations form any foundation for unity?”
“She wasn’t trying to wound you. She was trying to protect you.”
“In what alternate reality could that possibly be true?”
Sam’s anger flares. “You know what your problem is?”
“Yes. The list is long.”
“Oh my God,” she says, her irritation building. “This,thisis exactly your problem. You think you know everything. You’re uncooperative, you’re uncompromising, and you’ve already decided you’ve figured everything out. You don’t know how to be part of ateam—”
“You and Nouria don’t know how to take constructive criticism.”
“Constructive criticism?” Sam gapes at me. “You call your criticismconstructive?”
“You’re free to call it whatever you like,” I say unkindly. “But I refuse to remain silent when I believe you and Nouria are making the wrong choices. You regularly forget that I was raised within The Reestablishment, from its infancy, and that there is a great deal I understand about the mechanics of our enemies’ minds—more than you are even willing to consider—”
“All okay over here?” Castle asks, striding toward us. His smile is uncertain. “We’re not talking about work right now, are we?”
“Oh, everything is fine,” Sam says too brightly. “I was just reminding Warner here how much Nouria has done to keep him and Juliette safe on their wedding day. An event I think we all agree would render them both most vulnerable to an outside threat.”
I go suddenly still.
“Well—yes,” Castle says, confused. “Of course. You already know that, though, don’t you, Mr. Warner? News of your impending nuptials was beginning to spread, and we feared the possible repercussions for both you and Ms. Ferrars on such a joyous day.”
I’m still staring at Sam when I say quietly: “That’s why you all lied to me yesterday?”
“Nouria thought it was imperative that we convinceyou,” Sam says stiffly, “more than anyone else, that you wouldn’t be getting married today. The supreme kids knew about the wedding before they left, and Nouria worried that even a whiff of an exchange on the subject yesterday might be intercepted in your daily communications, which we wanted to make certain you carried out as normal. The notifications Juliette sent out last night were done in code.”
“I see,” I say, glancing again at Nouria, who’s now deep in conversation with the girls—Sonya and Sara—both of whom are holding what appear to be small black suitcases.
I should be touched by this gesture of protection, but thefact that they felt I couldn’t be trusted with such a plan does little to improve my mood.
“You do realize you could’ve simply asked me to say nothing, don’t you? I’m perfectly capable of discretion—”
“What is going on between you two?” Castle frowns. “This is not the energy I expected from either of you on—”
“Sir?” Ian is standing at the sliding screen door—the only access point into the house from the backyard—and motioning Castle forward with an agitated wave. “Can you come here, please? Now?”
Castle frowns, then glances between myself and Sam. “There will be plenty of time to discuss unpleasant matters later, do you understand? Today is a day of celebration.For all of us.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Sam says to Castle. “Everything will be fine—right, Warner?”
“Perhaps,” I say, holding her gaze.
Sam and I say nothing else, and Castle shakes his head before stalking off, leaving the two of us alone to enjoy an uncomfortable moment of silence.
Sam takes a sudden deep breath.
“Anyway,” she says loudly, looking around now for an exit. “Exciting day. Best wishes and everything.”
My jaw clenches. I’m saved the need to respond to this limp performance of civility by the abrupt, sharp bark of a dog, accompanied by the timid admonishment of a human.
Sam and I both spin around toward the sounds.
An animal I hardly recognize is scratching wildly at thescreen door, yapping—at me, specifically—from several feet away. Its once mangy, matted fur is now a healthy brown, with an unexpected smattering of white; this accomplishment is undermined by its bright red collar and ridiculous, matching headband, the undignified accessory crowned with a large crimson bow, which sits atop the animal’s head. The perpetrator of this crime is standing just beyond the dog, a tall, redheaded young woman desperately begging the pup to be calm.
