“Return to your rooms and rest assured that I will not be joining you.”
Her gaze dropped to her bare feet, and her hair fluttered as she twisted for the door.
I sank onto the floor, scraped a hand through my hair, and shifted a bottle of wine.
* * *
With my head in my hands, I stared down at the glass of amber liquid that hadn’t been empty in two days. Surrounded by books I’d never read, “borrowed” from Lord O’Meara’s extensive library.
Hating the woman hiding in her room upstairs.
Hating the man who’d raised her.
Mostly, hating myself.
What did it matter? Nothing mattered. Aveen would never forgive me for what had happened. Not that she’d have a chance. I planned on leaving her somewhere safe and letting her go about her human life until it ended.
In what world did I get to keep her?
One word from the Queen, and I’d be compelled to take her life.
If I could retrieve my heart—
I swallowed that useless thought with a gulp of whiskey.
The only way that could happen was if I destroyed the Queen. To destroy her, I’d have to be in complete control. To be in control, I’d need my heart. If I got my hands on a cursed dagger, I could end her. And to do that, I’d have to end myself as well.
No plan led to victory. The future remained as bleak and hopeless as ever.
The door to the study creaked open. The dark-haired maid stiffened when she saw me, her cheeks turning pink. “Pardon the intrusion, Yer Lordship.” She tapped the feather duster in her hand against her black skirts. A few curls spilled from beneath her white mop cap.
“Go about your business. Just pretend I’m not here.” Why hadn’t I told Keelynn I had to go today instead of tomorrow?
“I’ve tried,” she said in a silken voice, stepping toward the desk. “But yer a hard man to ignore, Ambassador.”
Her hooded eyes dropped to my unbuttoned shirt, a smile playing on her lips.
My traitorous body stirred. I wanted no part of this woman. But what I wanted had never really mattered, had it? Was I to be celibate for the rest of my days? Was I destined to be on my own for eternity? This one wanted me. Maybe that could be good enough.
18
(One Month Later)
After a trial in Dreadshire—atown as pleasant as its name—I decided to stay at the townhouse instead of evanescing back to Tearmann. Wouldn’t want the humans to think I’d abandoned my wife, now, would I? No one greeted me at the door, which wasn’t a surprise considering I hadn’t given them advance notice of my arrival. The scent of roast pork wafted from the kitchens. I found my wife curled up on the settee in the parlor, a book in her lap.
When she saw me, she didn’t bother rising. “You’re back.”
“Only for the night.”
She nodded, then went back to her book.
I hadn’t been sleeping right since Aveen died, and at the moment, all I wanted was to trudge upstairs and pass out. Instead, I pretended I wasn’t a heartless bastard and sank down next to her. Aveen’s sister seemed to be faring well, the color in her cheeks high and the dark smudges beneath her eyes that had appeared the night Aveen died had faded as well. A new piece of embroidery sat on the coffee table next to a stack of books. Every time I came in, she seemed to be reading a different one.
“You like to read,” I said like a simpleton.
“Yes, Ambass—Edward,” she corrected, her gaze still pinned on her book.
“What types of books?” I liked to read as well but had a feeling a library full of books on Airren and Tearmann law would hardly interest her.