Chapter Twenty-Two
Rhion pulls me aside at a garden party two days later. Marion, Faith, and Emmett are already waiting. “Have I come last in a game of Sardines?” I ask.
But none of them crack a smile. “Oh no, this meeting seems grave.”
“Now that we have the knife, we must act.” Rhion is all business. I knew the peace I found with Emmett was as fragile and fleeting as ice on a pond, but it’s still disappointing to see it shattered.
We’re in the corner of a greenhouse containing thousands of blooming flowers, but through the glass, I see Lydia across the lawn. She’s got white feathers in her hair and a crystal teacup in her hand. She’s surrounded by courtiers, including Lady Thalia, who I’ve made a point of avoiding.
“Should we get Lydia?” I ask.
The rest of them share an uncomfortable glance and I can read the subtext in it.
“You think she loves him too much?” I ask.
Rhion sinks his teeth into his bottom lip. “I think she loves him, full stop. It complicates things.”
“What will we do?” Marion asks.
“Bram is in England for the next day or two. When he comes back, we’ll confront him. I’ll call him for a meeting in my private quarters and we will threaten him with the knife and a choice. It is my hope he will choose to abdicate.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
Rhion presses his fingers into his temples and exhales. “I’m hopeful we can force him behind bars, just like his mother.”
“And if we can’t?” Emmett asks.
Rhion’s bright blue eyes are grave. “I will do what needs to be done.”
Across the gardens, Lydia smiles and laughs at something.
“Fine,” I say, even as my stomach rolls.
Emmett nods slowly. Lydia may love Bram, but Emmett does too, and the pain he’s feeling is evident. “We’ll do what needs to be done.”
Thock,thock,thock.
I’m unsurprised by the knock at my door, later that night. For the past two nights, Emmett has snuck away to see me while everyone else is reveling. We hold each other like shipwrecked sailors lost at sea, and when the morning comes, he leaves my room with a simpleI love you, and I hold his hand until the last possible second as he walks out the door.
I tighten the tie of my cream silk dressing gown and bound from my bed to answer.
Standing at my threshold isn’t Emmett but Bram. I should have known: it wasn’t the right knock.
I jump in shock, and he looks at me through the mop of his lightbrown hair, his mouth arched in a teasing half smile that reveals his dimple.
I do my best to arrange my face into a surprised grin, but Bram’s expression flickers like he caught a glimpse of my dread.
“Hello, wife.”
“Second wife,” I correct him.
“Details, details.” He arches a brow and leans against the doorframe. “Are you going to let me in?”
I pull the door open wider. “Of course, it’s your castle.”
“You’re not happy to see me?”
“Just surprised.” I keep my voice steady. “I thought you’d be in England until at least tomorrow.”
