Page 39 of King of Lies
“And I believe my brother made it quite clear that her place is as the next queen of the isle,” Taylor says, his voice low but vibrating in warning.
“I wouldn’t count my chickens before they hatch,” Lord Umbley sneers. “She doesn’t have what it takes here.”
“Maybe?” Taylor says, and it doesn’t not sound like he’s ready to place his money on me yet. “Maybe not. We’ll just have to wait and see. But mark my words, Rhys isn’t someone whose bad side you want to find yourself on.”
Chapter 17
Promise me
“If you’ll excuse me,” I hear Rhys say to his new-again best friend, Suzanne.
I have my back turned to them, listening to Dahlia tell hilarious tales about the antics she got up to growing up in a castle as the late-in-life child of the king and his second wife. They had no other children.
Dahlia is hilarious. Charming, and utterly precocious in a way that only a full of life eighteen-year-old can be. In a way that I’m not sure I ever was because I’ve been shy and terrified of every shadow since I was a little girl. Preferring to spend my time alone, surrounded by books instead of people.
I hope my e-reader is fully charged. I’m going to need some down time before bed tonight.
“May I show you about my home?” Rhys says from behind me, his hand lays like a brand through my dress on my skin.
“Oh don’t leave,” Suzanne whines.
“Run while you can,” Dahlia suggests. “I’ll distract her.”
“You always were my favorite, Dal.”
“I know.” She winks before turning to say something to Suzanne and spilling a whole cup of after dinner tea down the front of her white gown.
I’m stunned, frozen to the very spot that I stand in, watching the whole thing unfold. I can’t believe that Dahlia had the guts to do that. She’s either crazy brave or just plain crazy. The jury’s still out on which.
Rhys, not one to let grass grow, grabs me by the arm and steers me out of the room while Suzanne screeches about retribution. I hope for Dahlia’s sake that Suzanne never becomes queen.
“Where are we going?” I whisper loudly.
“Darling, we’re escaping,” he says drily. “Best to not let them know what we’re up to.”
“Good point,” I mutter as we turn a corner.
Rhys quickly pulls me into his arms and presses a hard kiss to my mouth while he’s still chuckling. It’s over before it can really get going and then he’s holding my hand as we run down the hallway together like Bonnie and Clyde.
He pulls open a door and we’re in a long room, dark before he flips a light switch, and I blink my eyes and see walls and walls of antique weapons, battle axes, swords, and muskets as far as the eye can see.
“Whoa,” I whisper. “Your people are a bloodthirsty lot, aren’t they?”
“Aye, that we are, Hen,” he says. “My ancestors wielded these weapons to protect this land and our people, and this room stands as a reminder to all of us who come after, of what is at stake and the cost.”
“And what’s the cost?” I ask quietly.
“Sometimes blood,” he says. “Sometimes sweat, tears. Sometimes happiness.”
“What have you sacrificed?”
“For a long time,” he begins. “I thought I had sacrificed everything for crown and country, and I did it gladly. But now, with you here in this castle with me, I think I’m somehow getting everything with no sacrifice made.”
“Rhys—”
“Now Hen, are you going to come here? Or am I going to come and get you?”
“I think, in this moment, I might need you to come to me …” I whisper.
