Page 50 of Water Dragon
Lady Shannon looked mildly disheveled, which for her was the same as looking as if she had rolled out of bed to join them. Her black hair was in one thick braid, rather than her usual elaborate displays, and she wore a plain grey dress rather than her usual wealth of green silk and velvet.
“What are you wearing?” Iona asked, clearly unable to stop herself.
Lady Shannon ignored her, eyes on Malcolm.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“I don’t believe you,” he retorted coldly. “You brought me that flower.”
“I had to.” She stopped herself short, as though catching herself before saying too much. Drawing a slight breath, she straightened her posture. “We all have our parts to play, Malcolm. You if anyone should know that.”
He furrowed his brow. That sounded as though she truly hadn’t had a choice in the matter.
“I know about duty,” he said. “But you’ve been with my court for most of your adulthood. You’re telling me that it was all a lie?”
“No,” she said, earnestness in her gaze that was difficult not to believe. “I thought…” She trailed off, letting out a sigh. “I thought you would ask me to be yours,” she finished, raising her chin to meet his gaze.
He felt for her then. He’d known that he’d made her think it since he’d thought it for so long too, but it had been so unfair to her. It didn’t make her actions any less of a betrayal.
“What would you have done if I had?” he asked. “With all of this, our mating bond would have been rather tainted, wouldn’t you agree?
“Yes, I suppose so,” she murmured.
He shook his head then. “You cannot tell me that, had I chosen differently, you might have done the same,” he said. “This is not my doing.”
“No, only my broken hearts are.”
He frowned at her. “You’re better than this,” he remonstrated. “You’re not the victim. Why would you make yourself out to be one?”
She glared at him, her pious expression slipping quickly, but there was a rawer pain underneath it. He saw it as clearly as he saw the mask she was trying so desperately to keep in place.
“What did he promise you?” he asked.
“Who?”
“Leon.” She raised her eyebrows, a small smile appearing that she couldn’t hide.
“Nothing,” she said. “Leon isn’t—” She stopped herself again.
He could tell that she wanted to speak. She wanted to tell him all her secrets, unburden herself and have done with it. She would take whatever punishment he doled out. She wanted it finished. And yet, something held her back.
“Leon isn’t the mind behind this, is he?” he asked.
The door slammed shut and, at the sound of steps, the lady schooled her expression back into one of quiet indifference. Sir Patrick soon joined at her side, sliding a hand to the small of her back, whispering something in her ear.
She nodded and excused herself.
Sir Patrick faced him.
“We have your father,” he said.
Malcolm kept his face neutral, but inside, there was a sudden riptide of fear.
Draining the watermagic was volatile at best. The chance that it might kill its Keeper—which was a title currently held by the king—was not far out of the realm of real possibility.
Apparently those safety measures his father had put in place and been so unwilling to disclose had all failed.
And Malcolm didn’t have a plan.
