Alura knew that as well as he did, so there was no need to question the father of the baby, since she knew the truth would come out if she were lying.
I always wanted to be a father.
Just not with Alura as the mother.
Yet since she was, and he couldn’t change it, he would show her nothing save devotion and respect. That was the least he could do.
Forcing a smile for her, he held his arm out so that he could escort her back to the party. “Shall we?”
Her triumphant grin was dazzling as she tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. “Thank you, Bastien.”
“For what?”
“Not denouncing me.”
“Cabarros don’t denounce their own.”
She pressed herself against his arm and leaned against him. An act that left him even colder as it reminded him of how Ember used to hold him.
His mother was right. This would kill Ember when she heard it. For that alone, he wanted to cut his own throat. And he’d never forgive himself for doing this to her.
Digusted with himself, he led Alura back to the party where everyone waited for more juicy bits that he refused to give them. Let them speculate. They’d make up whatever truth they wanted, anyway. Wouldn’t matter what he said. Or what the real facts were. They’d lie regardless.
The news agencies would be even worse. In their rush to beat out their competition, they’d fictionalize half of the story, and distort and slant the rest to the point it wouldn’t even be recognizable. They couldn’t bother to get the counties they were reporting from right most of the time, and that included the ones they broadcasted in. Sad really…
Alura excused herself from him so that she could go network with the others she was hoping would accept her as a future visira of the empire.
Bastien made straight for another round of whisky while dodging his older brother. One word from Quin and he would knock the bastard out again.
And that was the last lecture he wanted his mother to repeat tonight. He knew Cabarros didn’t fight amongst themselves. They weren’t Andarion eton Anatoles. Backbiting to that level wasn’t part of their court. Cabarros guarded each other’s backs.
Family first. Family above all.
***
“So… that’s how it’s done, eh?”
Alura paused at the rich, deep voice in her ear as she reached for a glass of champagne. She cut a sideways glance to see Barnabas Cabarro there.
Bastien’s uncle Barnabas bore a striking resemblance to his older brother, the emperor. Only he wasn’t as tall.
Or nearly as frightening.
At least not in appearance. Alura, however, knew exactly what kind of treacherous beast the leader of their military really was. She’d known it since the night he’d come to her and hand-selected her for this mission that stuck in the craw of her throat.
But she had no choice.
If she didn’t do it, hers would be the first head he’d take.
“I thought you weren’t going to speak to me in public. Isn’t that what you said?”
Barnabas grunted at her as he pulled the glass from her hand, then drained it. “You’re pregnant, love. Can’t be seen drinking in yourdelicatecondition.”
Alura bit back a fierce groan at the reminder. “We both know that’s a lie. So have you figured out the work-around?”
“I’ve got someone lined up who will give you everything you need, including a sympathetic shoulder when you miscarry in a few months.”
“What if I really do conceive by then?”
