Maybe Christoph isn’t as coolheaded as I presumed. That was the primary reason I asked him to join me.
Unsurprisingly, Isla gets huffy. “We are not public,” she snaps.
Christoph leans back in his seat, then deliberately casts his gaze around the room.
Isla dismisses the duke with an offish tilt of her chin, turning to me. “I know I owe you an apology, Your Highness. I just … when you asked to join us for lunch … I thought … and now …” She looks pointedly at Christoph.
“You would have preferred Sully or Bolan, no doubt,” Christoph says.
Isla’s shoulders stiffen, but she keeps her gaze on me. “It’s true that, during the picnic, I didn’t express myself terribly well —”
“You mauled Mirth’s soul-bound mate,” Christoph says flatly, derisively. “In front of her. And that’s the least of your family’s indiscretions.”
Isla takes a shaky breath. “Soul bound … Bolan … but … I mean, it was obvious that …”
“That what?” Christoph snaps.
I reach over and lay my hand on his wrist. The tension threaded under his skin instantly eases. He turns his hand over, offering me his palm.
“Apologies, Mirth,” he whispers, his gaze on our hands. He twines his fingers through mine, then draws our clasped hands under the table, under the cover of the white linen tablecloth. His dark-golden eyes meet mine. “I did listen to some of Elias’s protocol notes. Some.”
“I needed that remedial course at Lake Thun myself,” Noah says, trying to lighten the mood. “Too many years playing around with Archie behind the scenes, as it were. Not enough time managing public-facing relationships.”
“You’ve chosen, then,” Isla whispers tonelessly.
“It wasn’t a choice,” Christoph says, his gaze still on me. “The universe tells me I belong to Mirth.”
“The duke …?” Isla shifts in her seat. “And Bolan and … Sully too?”
“Worried that you’ll never get the chance to fuck the pretty Lord Savoy?” Christoph says mockingly.
Isla reels back.
I slowly remove my sunglasses. The bright light pouring in the windows is seriously uncomfortable, but I set the glasses down next to my water and just look at Christoph. His fingers twitch in my hand.
“Sorry, fuck,” he says, clearing his throat. “I’m just here for support. Just … at least three of the tables behind you are filled with the assholes in attendance last night. Plus …” He jerks his head in Isla’s direction.
Isla’s eyes are wide, her expression wounded now.
Noah leans across the table, lowering his voice and no longer playful. “What is it, Mirth? What’s wrong?”
I’ve been thinking, on repeat really, of how to broach this subject with Isla since before I made the call to have the lunch arranged.
“Is … Sully actually Lord Savoy?” Isla asks meekly, as if she knows she should probably keep quiet but can’t help herself.
That kind of knowledge, and the connections it potentially represents, is powerful in our world.
Christoph huffs.
Noah’s hand comes down on Isla’s knee. Heavily. I can’t see his arm or hand under the table, but she all but leaps out of her chair in response, then looks just a touch chagrined.
“Do you recall an incident that took place at school when you were … thirteen or fourteen, Isla? Noah, you would have been …”
He laughs. “Much older.”
I smile genuinely at the other awry’s attempt to smooth the tense conversation. “That year, Armin and I left school abruptly, about a week before summer break.”
“And you didn’t come back …” Isla says in a rush of remembrance. And just a bit of anticipation. “Not until second semester the next year.”
