Page 22 of The Throne Seeker

Tristan’s arms dropped to his sides as the realization sunk in. His gaze slipped away from hers, his eyes darting back and forth like he was piecing a puzzle together.

“I don’t think he was in his right mind,” she explained, filling the silence. “He was drunk and upset by your father’s public display of rejection. I spoke foolishly; I provoked him.”

Excuses didn’t matter. Tristan stood so quickly that he toppled the chair. She jumped at the noise as he strode toward the door. When she realized that he was going to take matters into his own hands, she tossed the sheets aside, standing up to follow. But she must’ve stood up too fast because black spots threatened to blur her vision, and she grabbed the bed frame for balance.

“Tristan, wait.”

He didn’t even turn around. “Get back into bed,” he commanded, chiding her failed attempt.

Her body demanded she sit back on the bed, but she called after him, “Tristan, please don’t. He wouldn’t have done it if I hadn’t provoked him.”

He whirled back around. “That’s your defense for him? What do you think would’ve happened if I hadn’t come? For all I know, you would’ve passed out and drowned. I’m not protecting him anymore. He’s crossed the line this time.”

Tristan flung the door open and marched through, shouting for the guards. He spoke to the two men in uniform, pointing down the corridor. They both bowed and departed at once.

He came straight back in, wearing a treacherous scowl. “He knew. He knew you’d be down at the beach. Why else would he be at our spot?”

“I don’t think he intended to hurt me.”

“Of course he did.”

She didn’t let herself consider the possibility of it being premeditated. But she’d also witnessed the look in his eyes. It had been so estranged, so wild, so… unlike him.

Tristan’s face softened at her fallen expression. He sat on the bed with her this time, his weight sinking into the duvet as he reached for her hand. In a firm motion, he drew her into his chest. She molded into him, his touch relieving the pain more than any medicine could.

“I just got you back. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you,” he whispered into her hair as he gripped it. “I thought when you passed out…”

She squashed those thoughts before they could spiral. “I’m fine.”

“I kept trying to come back to you during the ball. I’m sorry I didn’t.”

“You were busy.” It took everything in her to pretend she didn’t have to fight the urge to pry him from every dance partner.

He reached out through the moonlight streaming in from the window, cupping her cheek. “It nearly ripped me to shreds to see you dance with Grant.”

She gifted him a subtle smile, secretly reveling in his jealousy. “Don’t be mad. My mother insisted.”

“I’m not mad at you.” He slipped his hand to the back of her neck, bringing her close so she could feel his breath on her lips. “I’m angry I can’t just marry you.”

Her mouth grew into a smile. “After all this time, you’d marry me just like that, huh?”

“Just like that,” he said in a heartbeat.

Her heart raced, nervously tucking her hair behind her ear. “I was so scared you’d hate me,” she confessed, peering back up into his eyes.

Tristan knew what she meant. “I couldneverhate you. I’ll admit, I tried hard to after you left. But as soon as I saw you walk back through those doors, hate was the furthest thing from how I felt.” His lips went to her ear, his cheek brushing hers as he did. “I don’t care how many come and try to steal you from me… Iwillhave you, Rosalie Versalles.”

Her thoughts became increasingly irresponsible as she leaned instinctually closer to his lips. But before they could meet, her mother reentered, saving her from herself.

Her mother stopped abruptly, taking in the scene and raising a discreet eyebrow at Rose. “Forgive me, Tristan, but I think it’s time for Rose to get some rest.”

“Of course.” He stood from the bed as he reluctantly released Rose from his embrace. “I’ll make sure two guards are at your door tonight. Don’t hesitate to ask them for anything.” He bent down, lowering his voice so only she could hear. “If you want meto come back, just snap your fingers and I’ll be here.” He kissed her forehead before saying his goodbyes to her mother.

The door had barely clicked shut when her mother’s astounded eyes shifted to her. Still, a glint of triumph rested in them. “I highly underestimated his attachment to you.” After a moment of silence, her mother’s tone grew serious. “I heard what Tristan told the guards… Was it truly Xavier?”

Rose stared at the dying fire, wishing she could say it wasn’t true, but—“It was.”

Her mother’s face fell with pity as she gazed into the air. “Goodness, how the mighty have fallen.”