Page 90 of The Broken Prince

Harlow smiled, giving a chuckle at her grandmother’s words.

My mother was far more lenient with her grandchildren than she’d ever been with us. Once I’d pledged my heart to Ivory, my mother had sought to destroy it with all means necessary. Time may have made her wiser, made her heart softer, or she was simply more understanding toward girls than she had been of boys.

“You must be cold and hungry,” Mother said. “I know HeartHolme always takes some getting used to whenever you return. Let’s enter the castle and have lunch.”

“Where’s Ian?” I felt a sudden dread in my heart, because Ian would be the one to greet us as steward of HeartHolme, not my mother, who had stepped down from the role decades ago. He should be preparing the defenses, working on the line with the soldiers day and night. For him not to be present…was troubling.

My mother hesitated—and that troubled me more. “Let’s go inside and discuss—”

“Mother.” I stepped forward, getting directly in front of her, my nostrils flaring in ferocity because I already knew the answer before I asked the question. “Where the fuck is he?”

She kept her head held high, but her eyes flashed in intimidation. “Huntley, I did my best to talk him out of it—”

“Motherfucker.” I threw down my arms and marched off, too furious to look her in the eye right now. I paced, furious, ignoring the stares from my family and the guards on duty. “Why did you let him go?” I was back to my mother, ready to rip her apart for allowing this to happen. “I forbade him from returning to the east—”

“With all due respect, King Rolfe. Ian is the steward of HeartHolme, not I, so I have no power to control his actions. I asked him to stay, and he refused.”

I forced myself to stay still, to breathe normally, not to scream and shout right in front of my daughter. “When did he leave?”

“This morning.”

“Because he knew I was coming.” I’d sent that letter, notifying him of my return. Once I was in HeartHolme, he would never have had another chance to leave it. He’d betrayed me—and chose to betray me at a time when I couldn’t stop it.

Mother stared, her eyes sympathetic. “I don’t agree with his decision. But I understand his perspective, and you must too, Huntley.”

My eyes turned angry again.

“If we don’t know our enemy, we can’t defeat our enemy. Necrosis was vulnerable to fire, but these demons thrive on it.”

“And you think Ian will figure it out?” I asked incredulously.

“I think your brother is determined to protect the ones he loves.”

I was still furious. I’d strictly forbidden him from doing this—and he’d shit on my words.

“There’s nothing you can do now,” Mother said. “Let it go.”

“Let it go…” She clearly didn’t know me—because I never let anything go.

“Come,” Mother said. “Let’s continue this conversation in the castle.”

“You do that,” I said before I walked off. “But I have other shit I need to do.”

* * *

I sat alone at the table, drinking my ale in peace, the pot roast in front of me just a bowl of juices. The bread was gone because I’d eaten it all, and I sat alone in the bar and stared at the wall instead of my brother’s face.

Ivory pulled out the chair and sat across from me. She’d bathed and changed into something more comfortable, a long-sleeved sweater with tight trousers underneath. Her neck was still red and fiery, and I hoped that one day those scars would fade and diminish. It still pissed me off every time I looked at them.

She said nothing, only got the barmaiden’s attention to order herself an ale.

I didn’t want company right now, not even from my own wife. My eyes were out the window, pretending she wasn’t there.

She got her ale and drank it in silence, as if she hadn’t come to talk.

She’d come to listen.

One of the many reasons I loved her more than life itself. She knew me like the back of her hand, recognized my moods and how to navigate through them, knew the flames of my temper and how to douse them.

---