Page 69 of Claws and Effect

“How so?”

His silver-ringed eyes met hers, suddenly serious. “Because it wasyou.”

The simple honesty in those words stole her breath more effectively than any elaborate declaration could have. Before she could respond, voices echoed down the corridor.

“I’m going to take your bags to the car. I’ll be back in a few,” he said and kissed her on the lips before leaving her alone.

“Laykin!”

Seren burst into the room a few minutes later, practically sprinting toward her.

Seconds later, Laykin’s parents arrived, more dignified in their approach but no less eager.

“Finally breaking free, huh?” Seren enveloped Laykin in a careful hug, mindful of her healing injuries. “The palace has been dreadfully boring without you stirring up trouble.”

“I hardly stirred up anything,” Laykin protested, returning the embrace. “Trouble found me.”

“And how!” Seren pulled back, her expression becoming more serious. “I’m glad you’re both all right. Things could have ended very differently.”

Queen Juliette stepped forward, her elegant features softening as she assessed her daughter. “The doctors assured us you’re fully recovered. Are you?”

“Almost.” Laykin gestured to the faint marks on her shoulder. “Another day or two and there won’t be any trace.”

Her father nodded, relief evident in his eyes. The past week had aged him visibly—discovering his brother’s betrayal had carved new lines into his face that hadn’t been there.

“Where’s the brooding tiger?” Seren asked, glancing around theatrically.

“Taking my bags to the car,” Laykin explained, noting how naturally the domestic detail rolled off her tongue. “He insists I shouldn’t carry anything heavier than a coffee cup for at least another day.”

“Smart man,” King Leoric approved. “Seren, would you mind giving us a moment with our daughter?”

Seren’s eyes widened with understanding. “Of course. I’ll help Zyle with... whatever he’s doing.” She squeezed Laykin’s hand before departing, her meaningful glance promising a full debrief later.

An expectant silence fell after Seren’s departure. Her parents exchanged one of those loaded glances.

“What is it?” Laykin asked, recognizing the signs of a prepared speech. “If this is about the contract enforcement or Marcello’s supporters, we can discuss it tomorrow after I’ve?—”

“It’s not about the covenant,” her mother interrupted gently. “It’s about you. And Zyle.”

Laykin frowned. “What about us?”

Her father gestured toward a small seating area near the window. “Perhaps we should sit.”

The formality of the suggestion sent a prickle of unease down Laykin’s spine, but she complied, settling onto the cushioned bench beside her mother while her father took the chair opposite.

“There’s something we need to tell you,” Queen Juliette began, taking Laykin’s hand in hers. “Something we perhaps should have shared with you earlier.”

“Caroline was never the intended bride for Zyle,” her father stated plainly, his direct approach catching Laykin off guard.

She blinked, processing the statement. “What?”

“The story about your sister fleeing her duty and you stepping in to save the family’s honor—it wasn’t entirely accurate,” her mother explained, her thumb tracing soothing circles over Laykin’s knuckles. “Caroline was never meant to make this match. It was always meant to be you.”

Laykin stared, confusion mounting. “But why the deception? Why not simply arrange the match between Zyle and me from the beginning?”

Her parents exchanged another of those silent communications before her father leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

“Because we knew you would never agree unless you believed it was necessary,” he said softly. “You’ve always placed duty above personal happiness. If we had approached you directly about marrying Zyle, you would have questioned our motives, analyzed every political angle, and likely refused on principle.”

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