Page 14 of Brutal Crown

Still, a small part of me, a rebellious and definitely stupid part buried deep within the webs in my chest, badly wants to spit in their masked faces.

The conversation drones on for the next thirty minutes. Formalities are discussed. Schedules are set. Rituals are arranged. I try to pay attention to the conversation about my future, but my mind is not in this room.

I’m thinking about her. About how annoying and quite terrifying it is that I can’t get her out of my head. She’s just a girl. A prisoner turned maid. The daughter of a disgusting traitor.

A traitor like you…

I thought being away for two years would get her out of my system. When I saw her earlier, the feelings I thought I’d buried a long time ago only seemed to rush back more intensely.

Out of the corner of my eye, a movement outside the window catches my attention. I turn slightly, just enough to glimpse through the only open window in the room.

There she is, the object of my thoughts.

Rosalia.

It’s funny how I’ve never called her by her name, but it’s the same name I think about before I go to sleep.

She moves across the courtyard garden. Her arms are full of linens she probably intends to sun-dry, and her steps are determined. My throat goes dry as I watch the side of her face.Her chestnut hair is tied back into a neat bun, but I’ve seen how wild it can be when she lets it cascade down her shoulders.

That night… the night she caught me watching her like a hawk. The night I touched her properly for the first, and last, time. I’m mesmerized by the way her skin catches the sunlight, how it makes her glow.

Fuck. This is crazy.

I’m about to pull my head away before the Elders notice I’m distracted when I hear Marco’s distant voice. I turn just in time to see him slide behind her.

Something darkens in my chest as I watch him follow her, probably telling one of his stupid jokes. He reaches out like he’s trying to take the clothes from her, but she jerks away sharply. Satisfaction rolls in my chest, but it turns into something sour as she laughs.

She fucking laughs.

It’s a short sound, but it’s the first time I’ve heard the genuine sound from her throat. And I’m not the one she’s giving what is possibly her first genuine laughter in this household.

I grit my jaw until it hurts.

The feeling that surges through me is ugly, possessive, and primal. Fuck! No woman has ever made me feel this way. This… jealous.

It’s not jealousy, I try to convince myself.It’s discipline. My brother shouldn’t be flirting with the maid, and the maid knows better than entertaining such from her captors. This is about control and order.

But that’s a lie, and I know it.

“Francesco,” Lux Tertius says sharply. “Is there a problem?”

I force my gaze back to the projection and sit up straighter. “No,” I answer smoothly, schooling my features into a calm disinterest.

The Elders pause. Even through their masks, I can feel their piercing gazes and sneering judgment. I don’t look at my father, but I feel him stiffen beside me. He caught it too.

“You are no longer a common man, Francesco,” Sangius Quartus spits. “You were raised not to stumble over the emotions of lesser men.”

The condescension dripping from his words makes my skin prickle.

“Remember your orientation rites before your initiation,” Nero Primo adds, voice cold. “You are a son of the Founders, the future of your house. You must act accordingly. You know what is at stake if you fail.”

“I understand,” I say stiffly.

“On the night of the Gathering,” Sangius Quartus continues, “you will make your claim public. Silvia will be named your wife before the Elders, and the bond will be sealed in blood and law.”

I’ve always known this would happen, yet the reminder settles over me like a dark cloud. I’m thinking about another woman while my marriage ritual is being discussed.

The ritual is something else I’ve always dreaded. Silvia doesn’t mind performing the archaic custom. It’s the way she is—obedient and complacent to a fault. I don’t blame her. We were raised the same way, and I’m no better.