Page 41 of The War and Deceit Series omnibus

“You have such a low opinion of yourself.”

“No, I have a realistic opinion of myself. I was a slave, I must have done something, some crime—”

“You. Were. Eight,” he spits, anger flashing in his eyes as he takes a step closer. My back is pressed up against the stone of the arched alcove, so I have nowhere to go as I watch him rage. “How could an eight-year-old do something so terrible that you were stripped of everything, even yourname?” His words stir something inside me, something I keep locked away, that familiar anger awaking and stoking the dangerous thoughts that infiltrate my mind. Growling with frustration, he reaches out and places a hand on my shoulder, and I gasp at the sudden contact. “Clarissa, don’t you see how people look at you? You’re beautiful. You may have come from a different background than the rest of us, but youarea lady now.” I snort, shaking my head. I have nothing and it wouldn’t take much digging from one of the other nobles to figure that out. Sensing my despair, Grayson sighs and his hand leaves my shoulder to cup my chin, lifting my gaze to meet his. “If you were to go to Lake Haven you would find an estate with your name on it, including staff who are runningit while you’re here at the castle.” His voice is quiet, and he looks like he’s afraid of my response.

“You bought me an estate?” I ask, staring dumbly at him, not quite registering what he said. An estate, all in my name. A place to call my own. “You bought me a home?” I’ve never had a place to call home, so the fact he would do this for me... My breath catches in my throat as I fight back the sobs that threaten to rack my body. Eyes welling, I see him watching me with part happiness, part concern. With a huge, shuddering breath, I throw myself forward and wrap my arms around him. He lets out a slight “oomph” then he stills for a moment before returning my embrace, his chin coming down to rest on my head.

I’m not sure how long we stay like that for, long enough that I can hear people whispering as they pass us and enter the hall. However, I simply don’t care. Right now, heart aching in my chest as I’m enveloped in the arms of my saviour, I feel at peace. He would stay like this for as long as I need him, I know he would, it’s the type of person he is, but the longer we stay out here, the more rumours and whispers will follow us.

“So, you fancy me then?” My voice is muffled as I talk into his chest, enjoying the deep laughter he emits as he takes a step back with a broad smile, which is just for me.

“Clarissa! Looking good, my lady.” Wilson’s enthusiastic voice fills the hall as he squeezes into the small gap between myself and Grayson, so he’s almost pressed up against me. “Oh, hello, High Magician Grayson, I didn’t see you there,” he says as he looks over his shoulder, spotting the magician just behind him. “I was too busy looking at this beautiful woman. Stop hogging her, it’s my turn.”

I can’t fight the giggle his comments bring as he wraps his arms around me. I thought being touched by so many people would upset me, after all, I’ve avoided physical contact for solong. But I instigated the hug with Grayson, and even though Wilson’s spontaneous hug startles me, it doesn’t make me feel uncomfortable. In fact, after a brief pause, I return his embrace. Over his shoulder, I can see Grayson watching us with an unreadable expression on his face.

Once Wilson pulls away there’s an awkward pause and he glances suspiciously between the two of us.

“Did I interrupt something?”

“No,” both Grayson and I blurt, making Wilson grin as he nods and raises one eyebrow.

“Oh yeah, sure. I believe you.” He snorts, a sly grin letting me know that hedoesn’tbelieve us. Walking out of the alcove, he glances over his shoulder to see if we’re following him. “Come on, or we’ll miss the toast.”

“Are you ready?” Grayson’s deep voice pulls my attention back to him, and as I look up at him, his smile gentle and eyes knowing, I feel my own smile form. I know he’s asking me about the banquet, but I can’t help but feel he means more than that—if I’m ready to truly become Lady Clarissa of Lake Haven. Taking his offered hand, I straighten my back and nod, my smile still firmly in place.

“Yes, I am.”

I’ve just settled myself at the table when a loud trumpet fanfare starts, and everyone in attendance pushes to their feet in unison. Following their lead, I stand, glancing at Grayson for a hint of what’s happening when the royal family enters the hall. Prince Rhydian is walking alongside his father, the queen and the other two princes following behind. Seemingly as one, the room bows and I hurry into a curtsy, holding it until I hear the scrapes of chairs. Peeking up, I see the royals taking their seats at the table at the head of the room.

The rest of the hall has been set up with long tables along each wall, forming a square of free space in the centre of the room. Grayson and I are sitting at the table to the left of the royals, closest to the royal table. He informed me beforehand that there’s a table plan and everyone is sitting by hierarchy, so as a high mage, Grayson is only just below the royals. Sitting with us are several of the king’s advisors and other nobles, and I notice that Wilson has been placed further down the table. I wanted to ask why he’s so much further down, but a slight shake of Grayson’s head has me pausing, stilling my tongue.

The king remains standing as the rest of the royals take their seats, his gaze scanning the people gathered before him. He looks cruel. He once could have been handsome, but years of scowling have lined his face, his golden hair more white now than blond. But it’s his eyes that make me nervous, a cruelty shines through that makes me want to avoid him at all costs. Eyes like that promise violence and remind me of the advisor I met in the library with Jacob.

“People of Arhaven, you are here to celebrate the return of my son, my heir, Prince Rhydian. He has been working with the soldiers on the front lines, fighting for our freedom against the elves.” The king pauses, allowing the room to fill with hissing as the lords protest and bang their fists against the table when our enemy is mentioned. “So eat, drink, and be merry.”

I flinch as loud cheers fill the room, tankards and glasses being banged on the table. A hand slips into mine—Grayson. Keeping my attention on the king, I absently squeeze Grayson’s hand, silently thanking him. The simple act helps ground me, reminds me that although I’m surrounded by people who would kill me in a moment if they knew who I was, I have a friend here. I am not alone.

Clearing his throat, the king waits for everyone to quiet down again, his face falling into a scowl. “In other business, we have some guests.” Sounding less than enthusiastic, the king waves his hand and the large wooden doors are hauled open again. Although I don’t know much about etiquette and how these things are run, I’m sure that introducing guests this way, as an afterthought, is an insult, and seeing the frown Grayson is throwing at the king, I think I’m right.

Murmurs fill the hall as the seated lords and ladies whisper, watching as the new arrivals file into the centre of the room. There’s a lot of them, I lose count after fifteen of them stride in. Mostly men, but even the females are large in stature, theirhair dark like mine with feathers threaded through their braids. The men range from having long braided hair to none at all. Tattoos cover their skin, and they wear clothes fashioned from animal pelts. The male leading the group is wearing a headdress complete with a set of deer antlers. They fascinate me and I can’t seem to drag my eyes away. One of the males in the middle of the group scans our table, his eyes appraising me for a second before moving to the others around me then flicking back and locking onto me. My breath catches at his intense gaze, his eyes narrowing before he looks away. Taking a deep breath, I lean back in my chair once his attention is no longer on me, the feeling of light-headedness making me dizzy.

What in the underworld was that?I can feel Grayson’s eyes switching between me and the mountain man. Glancing over at the royal table to gauge their reactions to the newcomers, I see frowns of concern, even a flash of hatred in Rhydian’s eyes. When I reach Jacob, I flush when I realise he’s watching me. I’m starting to feel hot under all these gazes, so used to blending in that having this much attention, especiallymaleattention, is making me uncomfortable.

Or is it? Don’t lie, you enjoy having the mage and the prince watching you,my inner voice chimes in, and I have to admit it’s right. There is something exciting about having them stare at me this way, looking out for me, but I’m sure that’s all it is. Nothing would ever be able to come from a relationship with either, they simply want to protect me, possibly even be my friend, which is enough for me.

“A diplomatic party from the mountain tribes. They will be staying with us for a few weeks,” the king continues once everyone has hushed, less than enthusiastic as he dismisses them with a flick of his hand, gesturing towards the row of free seats on the table opposite mine. The leader of the group scowls, confirming my suspicions that the king is not followingdiplomatic protocol with the visitors. Holding his position, the leader of the mountain folk glares at the king for a second with such hatred and disdain, that the atmosphere in the room suddenly changes. The guards subtly reach for their weapons, tension filling the hall as they wait for the order to attack, but thankfully it never comes.

Spinning on his heel, the leader of the mountain tribe strides towards the table, taking the seat at the top, the rest of his kinsmen following suit. The man who caught my attention is sitting second from the top, his eyes scanning the space again as if he’s looking for someone, stopping as they land on me. He freezes, his body seeming to grow as he stares at me, his already impressive physique becomingmore. I want to look away, his gaze too intense, but I can’t. A sense of familiarity hits me so strongly that it’s like a physical blow to the gut.

“Everything okay?” Grayson whispers, lowering his mouth to my ear. He’s so close that his breath brushes against my skin, making me shiver at the sudden intimacy of the action. The man opposite scowls, his hand holding his knife in a white-knuckle grip. Around us, servers are bringing in large platters of food, the general noise rising as conversations start up.

“Who are they?” I nod towards the newcomers, and Grayson follows my gaze then leans back in his chair, taking a sip from his goblet. Following his lead, I reach for mine, bringing it to my lips and pulling a face as the bitter taste of wine coats my tongue. Quickly putting the goblet down, I push it away, feeling Grayson’s amusement as he watches me.

“They’re from the mountain tribes,” he begins, before taking another sip of his wine. “They live in separate tribes all across the mountains, but they have representatives from each tribe, and an elected leader who helps unite them.” I guess that explains the different clothing, tattoos, and hair styles.

“Why are they here? They look…angry.”

“They always look that way. They’re a serious lot. Life is hard for them in the mountains, and we haven’t had the best relationship with them over the years. This is a big step and a show of peace having them come here,” Grayson admits.

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