Page 50
Story: A Lord of Snow and Greed
I ran right into him, and though I pulled away, I couldn’t help but notice how different he felt from his brother. Softer, leaner, more delicate. And where my new husband smelled of sandalwood and freshly fallen snow,Rhistel’s scent was that of libraries—old parchment and wax dripping from candles. Not repulsive, though the way he wrapped his hand around my wrist, soft and forcibly sensual, was.
I ripped my arm away.
“Sotesty, sister,” Rhistel drawled. “I came to speak with you. I figured I’d better get to know you while I still can.”
The potent scent of wine filled the air between us. The heir was drunk. And from the way his eyes caught on my chest, I suspected he was horny too.
“Don’t touch me,” I hissed. “And get out of my way.”
Rhistel’s face hardened. “Just because you’re no longer a whore doesn’t mean you can speak to me that way.” He lifted his hands and began tugging one of his gloves off.
I blinked, realizing as his pale hand emerged that this was the first time I’d seen the heir without his gloves. What was going on here? And where was Vale?
I twisted to find three large males standing in front of my husband. He caught my eye, then his widened. As if I were in danger.
I turned back to Rhistel, prepared to fend off a blow, but the prince grinned at me, one hand bare, one gloved.
“Now, Neve, what do you say we leave this place and speak?” He reached for me with his ungloved hand.
I recoiled and was ready to tell him to keep his paws to himself when a roar rang through the room, followed by two moans and what sounded like a crack of bone on marble. I spun on my heel to find the males who’dsurrounded Vale on the floor and my husband lunging at me.
He grabbed me, pulled me close, and shoved his brother backward into an approaching guard.
“Don’t touch her,” Vale hissed. A pause filled the air between them as every head turned to take in the fight between brothers. “She’smine.”
A shudder ran down my spine.Mine.
I despised the territorial term—the sign of ownership. I’d had enough of people owning me for an entire lifetime. And yet, nothing in me revolted when Vale said it. Rather, my insides warmed.
Rhistel’s rebounding, however, doused that heat, closing the distance between us again and pointing a bare finger at his brother.
Vale dodged it and maneuvered me behind him.
What in the stars?
People were shouting—my name. Vale’s. Rhistel’s.
I cringed. We’d attracted attention again, so much.Too much.I was about to tell Vale to let it be, that we had to go, when the queen swept into the scene right up to her eldest son.
Queen Inga’s brilliant blue eyes blazed. “Rhistel. Do not force my hand.”
She spoke softly, quietly, but fire filled her words. The haze of drunkenness cleared from Rhistel’s eyes and fear rippled across his face. Without a word, he pulled his glove on.
“Go, Vale,” Queen Inga growled. “Leave. Take her with you. Keep her out of our sight.”
Vale said nothing, just wound my fingers through his and we left the solarium.
I perched on Saga’s bed, patting Sayyida’s back. The princess sat on the other side of Sayyida, holding her friend’s hand, providing comfort as Sayyida wept.
Wept.
I never thought I’d see the day.
“This won’t happen,” Saga whispered for the tenth time. “I won’t allow it. I’ll speak with my father.”
“And saywhat?” Sayyida shot back. “If my mother with her armada and all the might of our House can’t sway him, how can you, Saga? He’s furious! With me! With Marit! We should have never . . .”
She trailed off, but the unsaid words hung in the air.
I ripped my arm away.
“Sotesty, sister,” Rhistel drawled. “I came to speak with you. I figured I’d better get to know you while I still can.”
The potent scent of wine filled the air between us. The heir was drunk. And from the way his eyes caught on my chest, I suspected he was horny too.
“Don’t touch me,” I hissed. “And get out of my way.”
Rhistel’s face hardened. “Just because you’re no longer a whore doesn’t mean you can speak to me that way.” He lifted his hands and began tugging one of his gloves off.
I blinked, realizing as his pale hand emerged that this was the first time I’d seen the heir without his gloves. What was going on here? And where was Vale?
I twisted to find three large males standing in front of my husband. He caught my eye, then his widened. As if I were in danger.
I turned back to Rhistel, prepared to fend off a blow, but the prince grinned at me, one hand bare, one gloved.
“Now, Neve, what do you say we leave this place and speak?” He reached for me with his ungloved hand.
I recoiled and was ready to tell him to keep his paws to himself when a roar rang through the room, followed by two moans and what sounded like a crack of bone on marble. I spun on my heel to find the males who’dsurrounded Vale on the floor and my husband lunging at me.
He grabbed me, pulled me close, and shoved his brother backward into an approaching guard.
“Don’t touch her,” Vale hissed. A pause filled the air between them as every head turned to take in the fight between brothers. “She’smine.”
A shudder ran down my spine.Mine.
I despised the territorial term—the sign of ownership. I’d had enough of people owning me for an entire lifetime. And yet, nothing in me revolted when Vale said it. Rather, my insides warmed.
Rhistel’s rebounding, however, doused that heat, closing the distance between us again and pointing a bare finger at his brother.
Vale dodged it and maneuvered me behind him.
What in the stars?
People were shouting—my name. Vale’s. Rhistel’s.
I cringed. We’d attracted attention again, so much.Too much.I was about to tell Vale to let it be, that we had to go, when the queen swept into the scene right up to her eldest son.
Queen Inga’s brilliant blue eyes blazed. “Rhistel. Do not force my hand.”
She spoke softly, quietly, but fire filled her words. The haze of drunkenness cleared from Rhistel’s eyes and fear rippled across his face. Without a word, he pulled his glove on.
“Go, Vale,” Queen Inga growled. “Leave. Take her with you. Keep her out of our sight.”
Vale said nothing, just wound my fingers through his and we left the solarium.
I perched on Saga’s bed, patting Sayyida’s back. The princess sat on the other side of Sayyida, holding her friend’s hand, providing comfort as Sayyida wept.
Wept.
I never thought I’d see the day.
“This won’t happen,” Saga whispered for the tenth time. “I won’t allow it. I’ll speak with my father.”
“And saywhat?” Sayyida shot back. “If my mother with her armada and all the might of our House can’t sway him, how can you, Saga? He’s furious! With me! With Marit! We should have never . . .”
She trailed off, but the unsaid words hung in the air.
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