She had so many other, highly important things to focus on, such as rescuing Levi. Torturing and murdering Regal. And getting herself and Alia home in one piece. Perri didn’t need to be told that reaching out for anything when it came to Brandth De’Luca would leave her metaphorically badly burned.
Still, there was this insane niggly little question that kept gnawing away at her gut, what would Brandth do if she just as casually reached out and touched him?
Where was a bucket of cold water you could dunk your head into when you needed one?
Oh, thank the Deities above for sisters. As Alia stalked past, giving Perri’s shoulder the slightest of supportive nudges. But it was the wake-up call Perri needed. Vengeance was at hand. Alia was making the first move. It was time, beyond time, a long, brutal ten years of waiting. Finally, it was time for the two of them to face Regal, and start making him pay for what he did to them.
With that in mind, Perri took a big step to the side, to both get a better view of the coming fireworks, and to make a pointed, non-verbal statement to Brandth - leave me alone, good sir. She was sure he would get the message.
* * *
His aching leg had been Brandth’s main concern out on the playing field. Only for Talac would he limp around a quarry-hammer course. Even with the steel enforced boot and its inner cushioning, Brandth had been careful to avoid putting too much weight on the limb. Using his hammer staff as a makeshift crutch. Missing the well-made Lair pair of crutches that he had left over by the tents.
The game had felt interminable. The ladies they’d been paired up with to start had feigned inexperience with the game, but had certainly proven more than adept at keeping Talac’s ball hemmed in. Unless he chose to be ungentlemanly.
It had been getting beyond frustrating, Brandth unable to gauge which was worse. The insipid boredom of the social interaction, or the persistent throbbing emanating from his healing leg. He was just about to fumble a shot and send Talac’s ball clear to the goal when Alia Gloomenthrall crashed into their section… and damn, if things hadn’t gotten fun.
Watching fire flare into life in his friend’s eyes, as Talac began to pursue Alia around the course had been a welcome distraction. Brandth couldn’t help but wonder though, that glitter in his friend’s eyes, was Talac chasing after Alia, or just determined to win? Either way, it was interesting to note that every time his friend interacted with Alia, she managed to bring out Talac’s usually closely guarded playful side. One he only ever let his closest friends and family catch a glimpse of.
Brandth knew Alia was here for her own reasons. But it had been rather interesting to observe she appeared delightfully unimpressed to have discovered that Talac was the Prince. Her attitude towards his friend appearing unchanged, whether he be merely a Captain of the Guard, or the Prince of the Realm. It apparently mattered not a jot to Alia Gloomenthrall.
This novel experience upsetting Talac’s equilibrium more than a little, Brandth suspected. Given the number of times he’d witnessed his friend’s habitual haughty - I am unimpressed - Palace expression fracture in the last few hours. It readily apparent to Brandth that Talac was unprepared to deal with a female who was underwhelmed by his power and position. Who treated him, instead, like he was merely just another man. One who was useful, yes, but clearly not her priority here.
Alia was here to hunt down bigger game than a titled Prince and an offer of marriage. And it appeared, finally, that her prey had arrived.
That had been obvious when both the Gloomenthrall sisters’ gazes had rested upon the showy rooster, who’d arrived with the influx of guests once the quarry-hammer game was officially over. Neither sister had been able to hide their immediate reaction to setting eyes upon the posing ponce pausing at the top of the staircase.
Standing beside Perri, inhaling the tantalising smell of honey, vanilla and jasmine wafting from her intricately braided fiery red hair, Brandth had witnessed her stance change the moment Baron Soutner exited the Palace. Merely a close neighbour, she claimed.
Which didn’t explain the way her breathing stuttered for a split second. Or the way her next deep breath sounded more reminiscent of a viper’s hiss upon sighting a deadly foe. Perri clasping her hands tightly together as if fighting the urge to clench them into tight fists. Her back painfully ramrod straight, the position of her head telling him her gaze was fixed upon the new arrival.
Brandth had a split second to seek out Alia Gloomenthrall’s reaction, to gauge her response to the newcomer. Like Perri, her attention was rivetted upon Baron Soutner, posing at the top of the stairs. And for just the briefest of seconds, bone deep hatred radiated from her dark blue gaze before her eyes shuttered, and Alia stared up at him and the others joining them as if they were all strangers.
Interesting. Intriguing.
Watching the popinjay saunter down the stairs, smiling, all Brandth’s instincts fired. He wasn’t one for taking an instant dislike to someone, but there was something about the Baron that set his teeth on edge. If the old texts could be believed, and the outer appearance of a man reflected his heart, then Baron Soutner was bucking for sainthood.
Even Brandth, who didn’t normally concern himself with the looks of other men had to acknowledge that Soutner was an outstandingly handsome man.
His white blonde hair was cut and styled to perfection. Short at the sides, but overlong on top so that the tips just barely touched his surprisingly dark long eyelashes that ringed pools of pure clear blue. His skin tanned and flawless. Two dimples creasing his cheeks as the edges of his lips tilted upwards in a perpetual half smile. As if he found the world and its inhabitants wonderfully entertaining, seeming to invite everyone interacting with him to smile too.
His attire was interesting, at least to Brandth. He doubted few would be able to surmise that the shoulders of Soutner’s pale blue tunic were padded, just ever so slightly. Or that the cut of his trousers was deliberate to give the impression than he was taller than he actually was. Small lifts hidden in his boots helping physically on that score as well. Which meant he wasn’t really six feet and two, probably closer to six feet or just under.
The man was a walking charade, Brandth decided. Everything he wore, how he stood, the expression on his face – all carefully considered.
The rings on his fingers were of excellent merit. They screamed that the man was too tasteful to display his wealth in a gaudy fashion. Merely wearing three, two containing diamonds of moderate size and the third, a slightly larger clear sapphire that matched his eyes.
But other signs, supposedly discreet of course, indicated that Soutner was a man of means. The handle of his short sword was studded with gems flashing in the sunlight as he sauntered down the steps. Whilst a gleaming thick gold chain swayed gently against his thigh, as if he’d forgotten to secure his pocket watch away properly after last checking the time.
“That man’s tailor deserves an award. Do you think he’s like a feline if it gets wet? When he dispenses with the padded jacket does he look like a maypole, perchance?” Perri, her body turned to watch her sister make her way through the crowd, released a short cut off huff of amusement. “And the boots? Without them, would he come up to my knee do you think?”
“Perhaps his bootmaker deserves an award also.” His companion conceded in an almost tentative whisper.
“Then his valet should not miss out. Do you think he gets dressed on the balcony so as to gauge the sun’s effect upon his accessories?” Gods, that sounded almost like a giggle elicited from Perri. A delicious joyful sound that she ceased almost before it had begun. “Hah, and the man either has done his homework, or knows the value of jewellery at twenty paces. Look how he favours the Bartons and the Rawns with that practised smile of his. What a fascinating man.” Brandth could have watched Baron Soutner work the crowd all day. How he moved. Never quite stopping. Ensuring that he scoped out the entire crowd before making his first conversational forays.
With that wry dimpled smile of his, and the way his clear blue gaze rested warmly on everyone, it was as if Baron Soutner already favoured each individual in turn with his personal attention. And there was a promise in that gaze, as if to say, soon we will be the best of friends, just you wait.
Perri’s shoulders had tighten again, her posture ram rod straight once more.
