Page 34 of The King's Bodyguard
Three days later, Lord Morne showed up for dinner with his wife. My cousin, as always, sniped at me with barely hidden threats and made comments about the wedding. He knew how much I hated being reminded. Rilla, thank the gods, silenced him a few times with lethal indifference and her own brand of sharp wit.
Still, it was awkward. Two paces away, Corrin fumed at his post. No doubt he wished to slap some sense into my cousin. That or challenge him to a duel. Either way, decorum rooted Corrin to his spot for the entire dinner. When everyone rose, Lord Morne pulled me aside for a short talk. The other guests disappeared into one of the evening parlor rooms, more than ready to give Lord Morne and I some privacy.
I stared at my cousin with a neutral expression, refusing to reveal my hate, my fear, or my distaste. Stroking his mustache and goatee slowly, Lord Morne looked me up and down.
“I wished to talk about the wedding,” he said.
“It is no business of yours,” I replied calmly.
“It became my business when I heard tell that you are up to some tomfoolery over some damned flowers.”
“Oh, that?” I said airily. “Hugh was just having a lark. I thought it was funny.”
“Madame Rathe and Lady Hartford didn’t appear to share your feelings on the matter.”
“Nor did I expect them to.”
“Gods, Landis, at least try to pretend you care about this.”
“I do.”
“No, you don’t. Admit it.”
I wasn’t about to admit it to my cousin. How my heart ached for a lifetime spent with Corrin. How I dreaded the passing ofeach day as it brought me closer to the married state. How I feared my inability to protect Rilla once her fate was joined to mine.
“It is imperative for me to heal any rift that may have arisen between Sumarene and Esteria.” I was on firm ground. This, I truly believed. “If a wedding will bring peace and prosperity for our people, I will do it. Do not doubt it.”
Lord Morne looked me up and down with a sneer. The thin facade of politeness that had been erected the entire night tore away.
“Doubt it? I have every right to doubt the unfortunate spawn of that weakling bitch—“
The words hit me straight in the gut.
“Queen. Larielle.”
Two words, spoken in a voice as cold and hard as flint.
“Her name. Was. Queen Larielle.”
Corrin.Corrin was stepping between us now. His shoulders were tense, and his green eyes flashed with rage.
“Landis,” Lord Morne said sharply. “This is the second time this oaf has not remained in his place. I expect you to deal with him instantly. I said it before, and I say it again, the best place for Munni is in the wasteland and not here with their boorish behavior.”
“The only boorish behavior I see is your own, Lord Morne. To speak with such disrespect does not befit a lord,” Corrin said softly. “I will pretend I did not hear such traitorous disrespect... if you leave now.”
The threat was real. Lord Morne stepped back, shutting his mouth with a click. He glared at Corrin, but the coiffed, oily lord could no more budge Corrin than he could a mountain of Velamere. Corrin kept staring at him with lethal intensity. I shook my head slowly.
“Corrin stays, Lord Morne.”
I tried to think of something else to say, but words failed me.
“I recommend you apologize,” Corrin suggested, “and then leave.”
“My apologies.”
Lord Morne offered me the barest bow and made straight for the exit to the parlor. There was no way I could go back there. I could scarcely breathe. Spawn of that bitch. Spawn...
I could barely hear Corrin over the roar of my thoughts. He was saying something to another guard. Then, with his hand around my shoulders, he led me away. My feet felt like lead, but somehow I began to move, guided through corridors until I arrived at my rooms. A servant making up a fire scurried away, leaving me alone with Corrin.
