Page 34 of Court of Rivals
“If we can’t show her she’s a bad rider,” I say, “maybe we can make her life so unbearable, well,moreunbearable, that she quits on her own.”
Gareth turns and looks at me funny. “That’s a surprisingly good idea.”
“I’m not as stupid as you think I am,” I tell him.
We all have ideas about each other that may or may not be true. Both my brothers think I’m an idiot who only thinks with my dick. Yes, I often think with my dick, but it doesn’t mean my other brain doesn’t work. Alaric and I think Gareth is an angry man hell-bent on being miserable. Ever since the day his mom died and there was no royal mourning time for her, he changed from a regular little boy into something prickly and sharp. And Alaric? He’s a stick in the mud. No, not a stick in the mud, he has a stick up his ass, all the time. Everything is about honor, representing the kingdom well, and honoring our father. All very boring things.
“Do you really think breaking her will be that easy?” Alaric asks.
I shrug, thoughts turning. “I think between the three of us, we could break anyone, but definitely some peasant girl.”
My brothers move closer, but Gareth says, “So, it’s agreed, we make that girl so miserable that she simply leaves on herown. Then, father won’t be able to speak up against us, and her dragon will be left with no other choice but to choose one of us.”
“Which one of us?” Alaric asks.
I almost laugh.It definitely won’t be him.“Let’s decide that once she’s gone.”
The bell tolls for lunch and we hurry toward the dining hall. Everyone knows you want to be early to get the best food and the best seats, although we’re further away than the rest of dragon riders.
I push open the heavy doors and let my eyes adjust to the darkness. My gaze instantly scans for the woman in question and lands on her at the end of the table. She has a smile on her face as she speaks quietly to someone sitting next to her. Roland. My father’s little lap dog.
“This won’t do,” I say, tisking under my breath.
She smiles at him again, and my gut clenches. I’ve only ever seen her smirking or with a strained smile. This one is real. It reaches those beautiful hazel eyes of hers and lights up her whole face, even from a distance she radiates with it. This must be a joke by one of the gods because the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen is also the woman I have to chase away.
“Why’s she smiling at Roland? He’s a roach,” Gareth mutters beside me.
That tight feeling increases in my stomach.Does she like him? Are they sleeping together?
“Let’s break up their little party,” I say.
The three of us head over to the end of their table and stop. The guys seem to notice us immediately, tensing and growing quiet, but Harper just continues to eat her food like nothing has changed.
“Get up,” Gareth orders.
All faces snap to him.
“You heard him,” Alaric says, “get up.”
The men sitting directly around Harper scatter as she finally turns to face us. I expect her to get that look most women get on their faces when they see one of the three of us. Some cross between dreamy and excited, but she just looks bored. With us. I’ve never been one to flatter my brothers, but we’re God’s gift to women. No man compares to the three of us.
When Roland doesn’t move, I take a step closer, “Up, Roach.”
His eyes widen, and he leaves his plate full of food before heading right out. We take our seats, surrounding Harper, and servants drop fresh plates off in front of us. Harper doesn’t look at us, just focuses on her food which makes me uncharacteristically angry.So she can joke around and laugh with fucking Roland, but not us?
“So,” I say, spearing a piece of roast beef. “We don’t know much about you, Harper.”
She casts me a suspicious glance. “What do you want to know?”
I rack my brain. “Where did you grow up?”
“Pennyvale.” She says it in such a way that I imagine she loves her hometown for whatever little dirt patch it is.
Gareth snorts. “Is that some tiny little town in the middle of bumfuck nowhere?”
“It’s a small town, yes.”
“And what did you do there?” I ask, fishing for more information.
