“Fucking Prince Dalziel.”
Bramwell’s face reflects the disgust I feel. He distracts easily. I lurch forward, pushing the last of my strength into a hit that knocks the weapon from his hands and sends the sword spinning across the floor.
“Damn it!” he says, as I point my sword toward his chest.
“I win again.” I lower my weapon and stroll to pick his up, carefully handing it back. We stand a few feet apart breathing heavily.
“Don’t get too full of yourself. You’re not so far ahead that I can’t catch up.” Casimir wags his finger at me. “You were using shock as a tactic to throw him off his game.”
A broad smile makes my cheeks ache. “And it worked all too well, brother.”
Sweat makes Bramwell’s gray shirt cling to his chest. When he turns, the back is just as damp, the material nearly black. He scrubs at his face, his sword singing against its sheath as it’s put to its place at his hip.
“So why Dalziel?” He turns back.
“The prince took a special interest in Violence. I think he takes interest in most any female; however, they proposed that we can use our sister as a negotiating piece for alliance.”
“And you think that will go over well?”
I snort and sheath my own sword. “About as well as setting our own home on fire. That’s likely what she’ll end up doing before she gets marched down that aisle. I think I have to do it though.”
“Really?” Casimir takes his time stretching. Bramwell joins him over on the long wooden bench that sits against the wall.
Light trickles in from the windows that sit high up on the walls, and I step into one of the sun’s beams. “Father is just waiting to find reason to strike her down in any way he can. The Wild Hunt is dangerous too. I just want a steady safe home for her.”
“I do too. Are we sure that the Court of Winds will be that for her?”
“I don’t know that we can ever be sure.” I blow out a long breath.
With one hand, Casimir reaches behind him and pulls his shirt over his head. It catches on the scabs on his back. His skin is flushed, making two long scars that cut across his abdomen look stark white. To this day, the scars are a mystery that he has never shared with me. I stopped asking a long time ago.
A red blemish highlighted with purple mars the bottom of his neck. My brows rise. He does a double take as he catches my surprised stare.
“What?”
“What?!” I laugh. “What isthat?”
Creases appear along his forehead. He tucks his chin to his chest, trying to catch a look at whatever I’d seen on him. “Seriously. What?”
“Well, it appears you had a much more interesting visit today than I had.” I roll my eyes, walking forward till our boots touch. With one hand, I push his head to lean to one side and with the other, I poke my finger at the mark. “Someone’s been sucking your neck.”
Maybe all my brothers are just horny little beasts.
Bramwell leans closer to get a better look and whistles low.
Casimir’s face pales. “Oh, that.” Those long lashes of his flutter as he blinks rapidly. “That’s from last night. Some girl.”
“How specific.” I ruffle his hair, sending the brown strands in disarray. His scalp is damp, and I grimace as I wipe my palm against my clothing.
“Tea was... boring,” he insists.
I doubt anything with Valentina is boring.
A silent conversation passes between our eyes. It goes something like:
I know that Aeton went to visit Valentina too.
He did, and it was still painfully boring.
