“Yes,” she murmured. Pink meant she should be at the ready and gold meant there was the smell of victory. Was she the victory? Was he assuming that she was doing his bidding and finding ways to get close to the prince? She had not entered into the agreement with her father in mind. In fact, now that she had him before her, she was certain it had been the opposite.
Flanked by guards and, with the promise that no harm would come to her, she had begun to relax. Because she had been out of her father’s clutches.
The rebellious convictions in her hearts made her insides quake with misgivings.
Careful, that internal voice said.You know how this ends.
She did.
She also knew she should tell him of the first and last trial, but she had a feeling that the king already had. He was too trusting.
“And how are you?” Lord Taggart asked expectantly.
She kept the glare down. Her entire body felt hot and strange. She was bound to stay by every blood law in the land, but all she wanted was to be anywhere else. Anywhere but in his company. He had entered the castle with the good faith of the king at his back and he was taking advantage. She should tell Ewan. She should confess and take whatever the punishment was. It couldn’t be worse than the shame she felt looking into her father’s eager eyes.
“That prince of yours is the kind and good sort, wouldn’t you say?” her father asked, and there was the confirmation of what he wanted of her.
He had come here to bask in the fact that his daughter was about to seduce and secure herself a prince about to pass his trial. But if he had been informed by the king then he also knew that the king did not believe there would be a moment of transference for anyone to interfere with.
Or had he come on the basis of some other source of information? Had someone dangled the hope that whether there was a moment of transference or not did not matter? Had her father journeyed there knowing more than they did?
“Ewan is the very picture of good and kind,” she agreed, brow deeply furrowed, but her father merely shook his head once.
With the guards still within hearing distance, he could not speak further of why he had come. She wondered if he realized that he was going to find it difficult to tell her much of everything, with how closely she was being monitored. How had he thought to get around that? Buddy up to the king until he relented and allowed the lord to see his child in private? She doubted very much that it would happen. The king might be too trusting, but he had not ruled for half a millennium because he was a bad tactician. No, he would keep her under lock and key no matter what the blood ties to whomever wanted to see her might be.
She almost smiled. Her father’s plan was toppled even before it could begin.
Except… she was already set to enter a mating bond with Ewan. There was no seduction needed. As per her own plan. Or rather, as per his. Theirs? Their shared plan. They were inadvertently setting themselves up to play straight into her father’s greedy clutches.
When the lord placed one hand at the small of her back, she almost shrunk back from his touch. Standing perfectly still, she felt herself slowly grow rigid.
“Good,” was all he said, removing his hand and walking away from her without another word.
Topic settled.
She stared after him.
She had not seen him for nearly a year. He had not come to speak for her in Malcolm’s court. He had not written her, though she had written him plenty of times to plead with him to come to her aid, to stand by her, to claim her as his daughter still. Every letter had begged for clemency, and when she began writing them, it had been partly for show. Whoever read them before they left Malcolm’s castle would get the image of a repentant prisoner in their minds. It could only work in her favor.
But six months in, she began to feel the sting of her guilt.
She had grown close to Malcolm. She knew he was going to make a good king. She had felt torn throughout the weeks leading up to the tournament, and it had been simple jealousy that had tipped her scale. He had chosen a servant over her. Her pride had not been able to stomach it.
But then Ewan had arrived, and she should have allowed for the shift to happen within her that he had instigated.
But she had not.
Because of the man now walking away from her.
He is the reason, she thought bitterly.If he had urged me to choose my own path, my life would not be in such shambles. I would not be disgraced. Our family name would not be under threat of dishonor. He is the reason for all of it.
She kept the anger at bay, turning to walk the opposite way from him. Petrus and Eric followed like dependable shadows. They made her feel safe.
She had to speak to Ewan.
***
After a few attempts at trial and error, bringing her to the great hall and the throne room, she finally asked the ever-trailing Petrus if he knew where Ewan might be spending his afternoon. Petrus seemed to consider whether it was information she should have, then apparently deemed her worthy as he told her that the prince would most likely be in the west turret.
