Page 23 of The Lord of Whispers

I could feel Cole’s cruel eyes drilling into my back. I kept walking. For years, I’d tried to give Cole a little room for growth since he was relatively young and had lost his father at an even younger age. I’d known his father to be a good man. But over the years, it became apparent that Cole had inherited his mother’s personality and none of the good that I had known in his father. I’d heard some truly vile stories involving Cole and his use of lesser fae women. If he came within an inch of Alarie, I would ensure that House Tragon would soon find itself without an heir. But I had better things to do than to teach Cole where he belonged in the hierarchy at the High Court. The fact that he had not figured it out at this point in his life meant that he was too stupid or too full of himself to do so.

“That mutt of yours was talking during our match. She distracted me,” Cole spat at my back.

I stopped walking mid-stride.

Mutt?

But then Cole diverted his hateful gaze to Alarie, still standing in the crowd next to Luke, leaving no doubt who he was talking about.

A fiery rage burned in me before settling into a sharp iciness. I smiled wickedly, then turned my head to the side, nodding once in agreement. I turned on my heel and walked back toward the foolish, prideful lordling. Standing before Cole again, I made a show out of switching my sword to my right hand, my nondominant hand, and tucking my left hand behind my back. Gasps and snickers emanated from the crowd. Men had been killed over such insults.

Red crept further onto Cole’s face, and his nostrils flared.

Cole had clearly not realized it, but I’d gone easy on him during our last match. My prowess with a sword was well known. That meant he really thought that much of himself to think he had a real chance against me.

We exchanged just two parries before the young lord found himself with the tip of my sword beneath his chin. I held the point to the soft skin under Cole’s neck with enough pressure that his slightest movement would draw blood. I saw unadulterated hate blazing in the young lord’s eyes.

“Again?” I taunted.

The point of my longsword still at his neck, Cole imperceptibly shook his head. I lowered my sword and made a cursory bow to my thoroughly defeated opponent. Silent stares followed me until I took my seat back at the head table next to the King. The high lady stared straight ahead, not making eye contact with me as the chatter around the room started back up. She remained silent, but she wore the same embarrassed flush on her cheeks that her son did.

“I hope that met your expectations,my King,” I said.

“Indeed, it did, my friend! Indeed,youdid!” he exclaimed.

Grey chuckled, holding his wineglass in the air to cheers my victory. With a flourish of his hand, the King beckoned a servant to begin pouring more wine.

* * * *

“Luke,” I said, answering the door later that evening.

I heard Alarie pattering down the hall from her room before I saw her. She was halfway down the stairs before she looked up and saw me already at the door with Luke. Her silky brown hair swayed with each stair she took. She wore a dark blue satin nightgown.

Luke and I both turned and looked at her as she made her way down the rest of the stairs. It was only when the cool air from the open door rushed to meet her that she looked down, realizing she was wearing nothing more than a negligee.

“Let’s head to the parlor,” I offered, stepping aside to let Luke in.

“Al,” Luke said as he passed by her.

But Luke’s usual light-natured demeanor was missing, replaced by something much graver. He didn’t even bother to tease Alarie about her state of undress. But as Luke walked by her, Alarie noticed for the first time the blood on his rolled-up white sleeves. I had seen the blood, of course. She grabbed Luke by the arm, stopping him from walking any farther into the parlor.

“Luke, are you ok?” she asked, her concern for him showing in her narrowed eyes.

He nodded, pulling Alarie the rest of the way into the sitting room, where they plopped down on a sofa across from where I took my seat.

“It’s not mine. I’m ok, Al,” he said, firmly wrapping his hand around her knee and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

I homed in on Alarie’s silk nightgown. It had ridden up to expose her thighs. My eyes drifted farther down, where Luke’s hand still rested on her leg. A muscle in my jaw involuntarily tightened.

“Ok, what happened then, Luke?” I asked.

“It’s Lord Belford,” Luke began.

“Philip accused Cole of cheating in the duel earlier in the evening when he stomped on Philip’s foot. We were all thinking it, but Cole took offense anyway and challenged Lord Belford to a duel—first blood.”

“Lord Belford refused, claiming that Cole would only cheat again. Unable to provoke Philip into a duel, Cole stormed off.”

“How did you get blood on your shirt if they didn’t even duel, Luke?” Alarie interjected, fingering his rolled-up sleeve.

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