“Lord Alvi,” called a deep voice from the doorway, echoing. Wyneth jumped and Lord Alvi wrenched his head around. “Care to visit the indoor range with us?”
The Ascomannian lord gave him a nod. “Aye.”
Before he could say another word, Wyneth reached over and took the sketchbook from his hand, standing.
“Good evening to you all.” She nodded at the men, avoiding Lord Alvi’s eyes, rushing from the library.
Emotions welled inside her. She wanted to get to her chambers before she exploded. As she turned the corner she ran smack into somebody.
“Lady Wyneth!” Harrison gave her a friendly grin. “How nice to see you.”
Her throat constricted and her eyes burned.
Harrison’s eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong?”
Seas, he reminded her so much of Breckon: polished, handsome, polite. Even their bodies were of similar stature, the lean muscles and tapered waists.
“I don’t feel well.” Laughter from the Ascomannians sounded from down the hall as the men headed toward the archery room. Harrison narrowed his eyes at the sound.
“Did Lief do something to you?” Harrison took her bythe shoulders. “Did he touch you?” When she didn’t answer fast enough, he said, “Tell me!”
“No, Harrison,” she said in a rush.
He stared deep into her eyes until he seemed assured she was telling the truth. Then he took a deep breath and removed his hands. “I’m sorry. I don’t like the way he pursues you. It’s disrespectful to you and Aerity. To Breckon. Keep your distance from him, Wyn. I saw—”
“What?” Her eyes snapped up.
“I shouldn’t have spied, but I had a feeling his motives were not honorable when he asked you to walk with him. I saw him kiss you in the trees. You were right to run from him.”
Wyneth swallowed, her stomach churning with shame. “I have to go.”
She rushed past him, covering her mouth, trying to keep it all inside long enough to burst through her chamber doors and shut them tight behind her.
Wyneth paced a minute, and then sat in a cushioned chair, breathing hard. She opened her sketchbook and ran a slender fingertip across the animated bird on the crocodile’s shoulder. A dry sob choked her as she slammed the book shut and closed her eyes. Tears burned inside her eyelids, and an irrational bout of resentment bubbled up from deep inside her.
“Why, Breckon?” she whispered. “Why did you have to be so bloody brave?”
The sketchbook slid to the floor with a clatter as Wynethbent, her elbows on her knees and her face in her hands. Her shame was like a living, growing thing inside her.
If only Breckon had dived into the water with her. They might’ve escaped together. What had he been trying to prove by fighting that monster? Why did he have to go and get himself killed? If he were here, none of this would be happening with Lord Alvi, she knew that for a fact. If Breckon were here, her heart would have never wandered to one of Aerity’s suitors.
“Breckon, you stupid, stupid man. Why?” Wyneth railed in absolute anger, an emotion she hadn’t allowed herself to release until that moment. She let herself be overcome with rage at the unfairness of it all. She screamed, and when her maid opened the door, peeking in with worry, Wyneth threw a pillow at the door and shouted, “Leave me alone!” She then began to throw everything in sight, breaking a canvas against the wall. Looking down at the drab, gray gown, she grasped the neckline and yanked until it tore at the seams. She screamed at the top of her lungs, kicking her bedpost until her feet throbbed, punching her mattress until her hands stung.
“How much longer, Breck?” Wyneth sobbed, her face against the bed. “How much longer will it hurt like this?” She clenched the sheets.
Wyneth wept until her strength was gone, and then she feebly crawled into the abused bed and slept like the dead.
Chapter
23
Aerity couldn’t sleep. The wind seemed to grab hold of her windows and shake them with fury. Lightning flashed eerily through her chamber, followed closely by the rumbling boom of thunder. She didn’t mind storms, actually found them soothing. It wasn’t the gale that kept her awake with anxious excitement but the knowledge that the hunters were inside the castle at that very moment.
She slipped from bed and wrapped a dressing robe over her nightgown, sliding her feet into soft shoes. A peek out her door found quiet, empty halls, flames flickering from massive wall sconces. The princess walked the halls in silence, her arms crossed over her chest. It was a testament to her father’s trustof the hunters that the halls weren’t crawling with guards. She did see one when she rounded the corner to High Hall—a lad not much older than she was. He was leaning against a tapestry and straightened when he saw her.
“Princess,” he said with a nod. “Everything all right?”
She nodded in return. “I can’t sleep.”
