Page 43 of Heir to His Court

“No, I didn’t think that was appropriate either.”

“How about you call me nothing at all. What do you want, Embry?”

He sighs. “I'd like to get you in a classroom one of these days, little sister. You're bright, but you have no discipline and even less patience.”

NowI believe he's Raniel’s son. Sounds just like him.

“You have approximately five seconds to tell me what you want, and then I'll demonstrate the value of your father's training.”

He makes a slight motion with his eyes, as if he's suppressing an eye roll. I don't know why he bothers. “I needed to speak to you without anyone knowing, and I assume letters would be intercepted. Likewise, I can’t walk up to you in the middle of the street, and if I requested an audience, there would be questions.”

He's right. I don't want questions. “Right. What do you want?”

“To offer you help.” The amusement in his eyes evaporates, leaving concern, and an edge of anger, though not at me. When he looks at me, I see pity. “I’ve spoken to my father many times over the years, to no avail. You’re old enough now for me to approach you directly.”

Finally, someone thinks I’m old enough for something besides killing.

“I know what my father intends for you. I do not think it fair, and I do not think it honorable. You are too young to be sacrificed to him.”

“We're waiting until I'm an adult.”

He shakes his head, distaste flashing across his face. “That you've even had that discussion with him proves my point. My father knows better. Even in ten years, twenty, you still will not be old enough. Aerinne, you deserve the chance to grow into your unique self, your potential, your power, without my father's guiding hand.”

“Does he know his son is a traitor?”

This doesn't provoke the anger or denial I was expecting. He looks at me, the pity increasing, his voice patient. “What do you want for your life, little sister?”

I open my mouth to respond, then stop. Because I'm not dumb, and every response I could give him has something to do with his father. That would only prove his point.

“Exactly,” he says. “Let me rephrase. If House Faronne wasn’t using you, a child, in their feud, and my father wasn't using you, a child, to keep from walking Juhainah’s path, what would you do with your life? Have you even thought about that?”

There it is, the anger I expected. About education, of all things. I snort. I guess I can't be surprised. A teacher is going to teach.

He isn’t done ranting. “You're not even in university, Aerinne! A High Lord’s Heir. What is Murielthinking?”

She isn’t, but I will not tell him so. My mother. . .has not been herself for fully a year. The loss of my unborn sibling took her hard. I don’t want children. Not if having them produces the kind of grief I’m witnessing. It’s hard enough to watch my cousins, some friends, my comrades, die in the feud. To sit by helpless as a baby slips away? No. I don’t want that.

“I don’t understand,” I say. “If you think me and Raniel is so bad, why don’t you just tell my mother about us?”

Embriel stares at me like I’m insane.

“She won’t killeveryone.” Just the people in her way to Raniel’s sleeping place when she snaps.

“I can help you get out. I can take you somewhere not even my father’s reach—”

I cut him off. “We are bonded. There's no such place where Raniel can't find me.”

“That's not exactly true—and you are not fully bonded, Aerinne. He would not go that far. Regardless, he'll always be able to communicate with you, but you can be taught to filter what information he’s allowed to access. You can hide your physical self from him, if you desire it.”

Raniel?I call.

His presence fills my mind, and once again I'm thrown off balance, because there is no anger.He can do as he says. He can take you from me, if that is what you want.

I scowl, feel my bottom lip start to poke out, and force my expression back into something that doesn't mimic a six-year-old.

“What exactly do you think he's going to do to me?” I ask. “What are you afraid of? Or is it that you think I'm not good enough for him?”

He crouches, taking my hands. Bold—because now he's close enough for me to slit his throat.

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