NowIwant to lob a candlestick at his head.
The noise that bursts from his sister is a harpy’s war cry. Furious. Ear-drum shattering. Enough to crack a square of glass in the balcony doors.
Aowen launches over the sofa, scrambling toward her brother, who aims an affronted gape at Lachlan that shouts,you’re my knight; do something?
Lachlan snakes his arms around Aowen seconds before she reaches Desmond. She kicks and wails in Lachlan’s grip as he uses those same low tones I’ve heard him soothe Tula with. Unfortunately, it isn’t working nearly as well as it’s worked on Tula. Or me, for that matter.
Aowen’s still screeching when Desmond gains another enemy in the form of a tiny, enraged pixie. Vesper burrows in Desmond’s hair, biting the pointed tips of his ears.
Desmond’s shouting and Aowen’s wailing and Vesper’s squeaking and I’m trying to?—
“ENOUGH!”Lachlan’s booming bellow silences the room. “Are we beasts or are we family?” He settles Aowen onto the sofa. “Why are you so upset?”
“Everyone has their price,”she seethes to Desmond, raking her nails through her dark hair. “You sold me off to Cernunnos, didn’t you?”
Lachlan rears back. “He wouldn’t.” He turns to his duke. “You didn’t.”
“It was the only way to secure his participation,” Desmond whispers. “He insists he’s not a murderer.”
“And you just took him at his word?” Aowen sniffs back tears, as if she doesn’t want us to see or hear them, and my chest squeezes. I sit beside her, but she pulls away, stifling a sob into the back of her hand.
Desmond slumps into an armchair and rubs his forehead. “He was going to officially reject Charlotte. She’d be dead right now if I hadn’t done it.”
My heart hiccups, waves of heat and frost searing my veins. I stare at the ring, this scrap of metal that suddenly feels as fragile as my own mortality.
Aowen sits up a little straighter. Ashamed she’d forgotten the consequences of Duke Cernunnos’s rejection. And though I do not have that luxury, I cannot find it in myself to be upset with her.
“Tell us,” Lachlan commands. “What was the exact agreement you brokered?”
Desmond, the craven, can’t even look at Aowen. “If Cernunnos loses the Wild Hunt, Aowen will be his consolation prize. His bride.”
“You are a complete piece of shit, you know that?” Aowen hisses.
Vesper flits over to spit in Desmond’s face. I suppress a cheer.
It is, apparently, the last straw in his indefatigable well of good humor.
“I am yourduke, Aowen Macán,” he roars. “You will do as I say to protect the interests of our House and the kingdom. And if the cost of a better world is you marrying a monster, then consider it a small price to pay. Stop being so fucking selfish.”
Lachlan scrapes a hand over his jaw, muttering what sounds like a reprimand.
Aowen pulls herself to her full height, swatting a tear off her cheek. “As you command, Your Grace.”
I’m impressed by the amount of hatred she bakes into her deep curtsy. She turns on her heel and glides into her bedchamber, followed by Vesper, who shakes a small fist at Desmond. The door slams shut behind them.
“How could you do it, Des?” Lachlan asks. “Your ownsister?”
“That wasn’t the only stipulation for his participation.” Desmond’s anger melts into a weary kind of regret.
Lachlan goes stiff-backed, pulling his shoulders square and folding his hands behind him. A knight at attention to his master.
“You are not allowed to accompany Charlotte. Lord LaBeaumont insisted.”
“No.”
Both men turn at my outburst, affection stealing across Lachlan’s face as curiosity with the slightest edge of suspicion twists Desmond’s.
“Th-that is to say,” I sputter, “I need him.”
