Page 9 of When the Sky Breaks

No. I was not falling in love with her. The Court had lost enough already. It couldn’t afford to lose her. I wouldn’t let my dedication to her well-being be clouded by something so trivial as romantic affection.

I swallowed hard, banished the sentimentality, and said, “Sorcha, we need to begin planning for the wedding.”

After last night? After I’d pulled away rather than kiss her? It felt like rubbing salt in the wound. She looked up from a red, leather-bound journal she’d been studying for nearly twenty minutes.

“We sign some documents. Have the priest say a blessing. What is there to plan?”

“Sorcha.” I took a deep breath. “You’re a public figure. You can’t have a back-alley, no-fuss wedding. People will talk.”

“And what exactly will they say?” Sorcha asked.

“Well . . .” I paused. “Most will suspect you’re pregnant. Others will say I forced you into it. You never know what the rumor mill will turn up.”

“So we put on a charade for the public? Hide behind the spectacle and hope it gives the right impression?” Her voice was icy cold and laced with a degree of cynicism I didn’t want to believe she could have picked up in only twenty-seven years on this earth. “Perhaps we should have a parade.”

“Sorcha, please—” I began, but she cut me off.

“Invite the staff to the ceremony and a few of the locals—the nosy ones. I’ll have Nokona find me a dress. My father would have wanted it to be blue. We’ll host a reception in the plaza. Big party. Lots of beer. Minimal focus on the two of us.”

“Of course.”

“Don’t want people noticing how utterly uninterested in me you are.”

I froze immediately, shocked.

“I n-never said . . .” I stammered. “I n-never thought . . . Lady Sorcha, you’re anything but uninteresting.”

“Is that why you jumped up like something had burned you rather than kissing me last night?” Sorcha asked, voice hard.

I forced down the urge to pull her into my arms and kiss her then and there.

Professionalism, I reminded myself. Discretion. My job was to protect her. Not get attached.

But if I stood here any longer? Inches away from her in the warmth and safety of her office? I’d abandon those principles entirely.

“I’m sorry,” I said, swallowing hard. “But I’m afraid I must check in with our new guards. A few arrived this morning and I have to make sure they’re up to caliber.”

And so I walked out the door, hands clenched into fists, cursing myself with every step. One of the cats hissed and swatted at me as I walked by.

I entirely deserved it.

Before I shut the door, I watched as Sorcha picked up another of the cats from its box and buried her face in its belly.

“At least you still like me,” she muttered.

Four

Sorcha

“Ibloody work here!” I heard someone shouting from the porch.

I grabbed two of my cats from their boxes—the lone remnant of Neal’s organizational scheme—and slipped out into the hallway.

One of our guards, a new one, human and barely sixteen, was standing at the front door, arms crossed over his chest, scowling.

“Hiram,” I said, nudging past the young man. “Who’s this?”

“It’s after eight, Lady Sorcha,” was all Hiram said in reply. “Mr. MacCairn said nobody comes in after eight.”