Page 92 of Wedlock
After a long, long minute, she nods and sweeps from the room.
The moment she’s gone I sag onto the bed. These mind games were taxing, and I’ve never been really good at all the subterfuge and hinted threats these royals seem to excel at.
“Shit. Shit. Shit.”
Yin warned me of this. She’d begged me not to come today. Begged, threatened, sworn, cajoled, but I’d been adamant that attending would cement the lie that the child I’d left behind was indeed mine.
What a fucking idiot I’ve been.
‘I need to get out of here quick-smart.’
Rising, I open the bedside cabinet. I’d requested this cold wing of the castle because I wanted to remind myself of what my time here had really been like, rather than see it through rose-coloured glasses as I was sometimes prone to do when I dreamt of the vampire lord who lives here. And I had another reason.
Slowly, I withdraw from the cabinet the slim golden chain with the platinum filigree encased sapphire that Falcon had given to me on The Games. I want it back because it’s beautiful, I don’t own much jewellery, and it’s valuable. I tell myself that the fact it also represents a time when I’d believed Falcon and I had a future is beside the point, although I know I’m lying to myself. When Viper had put me under a thrall I’d been careful to hide the necklace, and I hadn’t done it because it was worth money.Still, these past three years I’ve been living off Yin, which, despite her assurance was no hardship because she was uber-rich, just doesn’t sit well with me. The necklace is insurance. If I ever need to sell it and get funds of my own, I can. And if anything ever happens and Yin needs money quickly, we have portable wealth.
Slipping the chain over my head, I head for the door, my brain doing somersaults over my conversation with Eleanor and the ramifications, short and long term. I’d planned to rest until my flight home and check in on Tiger one more time, but I’ve changed my mind. Half expecting the door to be locked, I pull it open violently, trying not to let any emotion cross my face as I virtually crash into Falcon’s broad chest.
“Oh.”
“Angie.”
“Falcon,” I nod, stepping back to allow him to enter, “I thought you’d be out rampaging and murdering for a while yet.”
He meets my eyes, the corner of his mouth quirking slightly.
“Yes, I imagine youwouldthink that. My guards are taking over investigations; we’ll get to the bottom of it soon enough.”
“But the upshot was that the wetnurse, under thrall, was poisoning Tiger,” I shrug, turning and taking a few steps into the room, expecting him to follow me.
He doesn’t.
“We believe so. Liquid silver every few days, here and there. It weakened him to the point of death.”
“But he’s not at risk of dying now?” I turn back and cock my head at him, confused as to why he’s still standing, almost apprehensively, in the doorway.
“No,” he shakes his head, “you saved his life, Angie. We know how to rid his system of the silver. He’ll regain his strength by and by. And when I find out which Queen ordered this, my own or the Danish mother of a certain princess we’re both acquainted with, therewillbe rampaging and murder, I assure you.”
“He looks like you,” I murmur, walking away from him to the bed to retrieve my jacket, which I’d discarded earlier and almost forgotten in my haste to leave.
“Do they both?” He asks quietly.
My heart stops momentarily, but I keep my back to him as I lean down to pick up my jacket.
‘Oh Jesus. How? How? Had Eleanor shared her theories with him that there was another baby and I’d switched children? Is he, too, trying to find out if this is true? Brazen it out. I have to brazen it out, just as I had with her.”
“What?”
“Does my other son resemble me?”
My blood literally runs cold as I straighten up and slowly turn to face him, but I keep my face expressionless.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You have nothing to fear, Angie. Jag told me about the other child on the condition I don’t molest you or him, or try to get you to return against your will.”
I stare at him. There’s no point in continuing to deny it. He knows.
“That mother-fucking son of a bitch gobdaw bastard,” I whisper.
