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“I still don’t understand. How would that make her hate?—”
“We served under Kuznetsov.”
I pause, surprised and confused. The truth is, I knew from my father that the soldier who would go on to become General Agard had served under him for a period of time. But that was a while ago, and I had no way of knowing if Gabriel remembered or even cared about an old commanding officer. The fact that he did makes me absolutely delighted. I miss my father. Enjoy hearing him brought up. Relish any opportunity to discuss him. “Why didn’t…?”
“What?”
“I don’t know. Were you aware that I was his daughter? Why didn’t you say that before?”
His laughter is of the hollow, angry kind. “There’s no need to pretend, Sofia. This is very disingenuous, even for a newly minted Larsen.”
“I… Excuse me? Pretend what?”
“That you didn’t have us banned from his funeral.”
My mouth falls open. “I didn’t.”
“Lady Larsen spoke to my seneschal herself. She said that you didn’t want us there?—”
“Gabriel, I wouldnever. When my father died, even if I cared about political allegiances or about what the hell happened between you and Lord Larsen, I would have never prevented someone who cared about my father from… There must have been a misunderstanding. Lady Larsen wouldn’t?—”
“I think,” he growls, his icy eyes suddenly inches from mine, “you will find that when it comes to you, Lady Larsen absolutelywould.”
We regard each other, a heavy silence between us as I try to untangle his words. If Lady Larsen indeed told Bastian something like that, she must have meant well. Perhaps she was afraid that the general’s presence would lead to tensions that might ruin the ceremony.
“I gave her a message for you,” Gabriel says. “A letter. Did she pass it along?”
I swallow. Shake my head. Glance at the large circular window while I massage my sternum to soothe the hollow ache in my chest. “What did it say?”
“It doesn’t matter.” His tone seems to suggest the opposite. “No need to worry your oblivious little head over it,Lady Larsen.You are very good at not noticing what happens around you.”
“How dare you?—”
“Gabe,” someone calls from the entrance.
It’s Martia. But I don’t turn toward her, and neither does Gabriel.
“They’re here,” she adds.
“Tell Lennart that he’s going to have to wait until I’m done using his mate,” Gabriel orders.
I should flinch at the crude words, but they simply don’t hurt enough. Maybe I’m too angry. Or maybe it’s the idea that it elicits—him reallyusingme like an Alpha would an Omega. It makes my belly warmer. Instantly, as if in response, Gabriel’s nostrils flare.
“It’s not Lennart,” Martia says.
At last, we look at her with twin scowls.
“Who did they send?” Gabriel asks.
“Four guards.”
“And?”
“That’s it.”
His frown etches deeper. “You’re joking, right? You can’t be fucking serious.”
“What did you expect from a spineless coward like Lennart?” Martia sneers.
