Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 137226 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137226 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
And right into my uncle.
“Shit,” I swear, backing up. “You scared me.”
My uncle’s face twists venomously. That look of hatred mixed with self-satisfaction, like he’s ensnared me. I immediately feel uneasy.
“Spent the night with the prisoner, did we?” he says with a sneer.
“Jealous?” I counter. Probably the wrong thing to say.
He comes at me fast and I duck just in time, spinning around as he tries to grab me, bludgeoning the wall with his shoulder. A painting down the hall crashes to the floor.
“You’re jeopardizing your relationship with the princess!” he yells.
I eye the door to Brynla’s room and want to tell him to shut the fuck up, because she doesn’t need to hear any of this, but that will only provoke him. If I say anything at all he’ll probably open the door and drag her out of bed, and if he dared to lay a hand on her there’s no telling what I would do.
“What’s going on?” My father’s voice comes from down the hall.
Fuck.
I look over at him as my father slowly approaches, still in his plush morning robe, a cup of coffee in hand.
“Nothing, Father,” I tell him, straightening up. “Just having a discussion with your brother.”
“I caught him sneaking out of the bitch’s room,” my uncle says, jerking his thumb toward Brynla’s door. He can barely put his thumb away before I’m at him, hand around his throat and pressing him back against the wall.
“Andor!” my father hisses, but I barely hear him. All I can think about is staring into my uncle’s beady eyes as I squeeze the life out of him.
“Call her that one more time and it will be the last garbage to come from your mealy little mouth,” I growl at him as he sputters under my grasp.
“Andor!” my father says, and he lunges for me. With a burst of strength he rarely displays, he grabs my arms and yanks me away from my uncle. “What in the goddesses has gotten into you?”
“She’s polluting his mind with her Eslander ways,” my uncle says, rubbing his throat and coughing with watering eyes.
“Is this true?” my father says, his expression surprised and ashamed. “After all we talked about?”
He expects me to look at the floor and apologize, as I have often done. But I refuse to cower this time.
“After all you talked about,” I say to him, raising my chin. “This has never been my idea. None of this has ever been my idea.”
I walk off down the hall, wanting to lead them away from Brynla. I’m sure she’s already awake, already heard our fighting, but I don’t want things to get worse.
My uncle and father hesitate and I’m terrified that they’ll go into Brynla’s room instead. But then I hear their footsteps follow me, echoing down the hall. I take the moment of relief to try to bolster myself against whatever they’re about to throw at me. One would think that he would have interrogated me about what happened in the Midlands, but aside from small talk at the dinner table, inquiring about the suen I harvested, he hasn’t asked me much. I expected him to call me into his office at some point and grill me about Brynla’s performance, but that never happened either.
However, there’s no time like the present.
I go straight to my father’s office and lean back near the window, arms folded across my bare chest as I wait for them to step into the room. My father barges in and gestures wildly for me to sit down as he makes his way around his desk, but I shake my head. My uncle takes the spot instead.
“I’m calling a meeting,” I say before they can get a word in first.
It angers my father like I knew it would, his nostrils flaring.
“Meeting?” my father practically spits. “There is no meeting! Tell me what you’re—”
“I have no intention of marrying the princess,” I say, raising my chin.
“I told you!” my uncle says to my father. “I told you that woman has gotten under his skin.”
“She has,” I say quickly. “She’s gotten very much under my skin. And sure, it certainly complicates your plans for Princess Frida. But that’s not all of it. That’s not the only reason why I won’t do it.”
My father gets out of his chair and storms over to me, stepping just a foot away, close enough to jab his finger at my chest. “You can’t betray me, Andor. You made a promise.”
“You made a promise,” I counter. “One I can’t keep.” I take in a deep breath and yet I’m shaking inside for finally saying no. “One that I won’t keep.”
“You are marrying Princess Frida!” He’s practically spitting at me with rage, his eyes blazing, and for the first time I see the fear inside him. It’s like I’m viewing my father from outside the room, a stranger peering through the window, and it’s clear as day that this news, this betrayal at my behest, is terrifying him. He’s truly afraid of losing Altus Dugrell, which makes me think everything is a lot more dire than he’s ever let on.