Page 96 of Wedlock

74

I return to my castle emboldened and more light-hearted than I’ve been in years.

If truth be told, I’d spoken to Wolf about my plan to call Angelina not just to seek his blessing, but to see what he thought the outcome might be.

Naturally, I’d returned to my estate without having received any deep insight. Wolf doesn’t know Angie, and he doesn’t know our relationship. All he’s really seen is our dysfunctional marriage from woe to go. I can’t disagree with his assumption that she hates my guts. But I also can’t get out of my head the way she’d looked when she visited the castle to see Tiger.

She was strong now, confident. She’s taken Mother head-on, rather than bowing to her deferentially as the matriarch. She’d really come into her own, andshewas the matriarch now. It’s clear she’s hardened, matured in some indefinable way. Her sass is back, her quick wit and her refusal to accept what doesn’t fit with her values. And the sacrifice she’d made, leaving a son with me so that I could have an heir and continue my line… she’s everything I ever wanted in a wife, and I don’t know how I could have pictured anyone else being Lady Dragonspur.

Seeing her again has made me realise that this place is no home without her. Just knowing she was back under my roof for the briefest of visits had lifted my heart from its long melancholy.

‘And she was still wearing he necklace I gave her in The Games. Surely this must mean something? Some small sentimental attachment?’

Either way, she and our children belong in her castle, with me. And if Wolf’s right and she does loathe me to my very core, then so be it, I’m in this for the long game. I’ll win his wager. Whether it takes me one hundred years, I’ll win it.

I’ll win her heart.

75

I answer the phone mechanically, as always. No one I know in my past life, not family, not friends, knows my number. The calls are always staff, the carefully vetted staff Yin had brought with us from the island, and they’re usually just asking questions about rosters or some such minutiae.

“Hello.”

“Angelina?”

I almost drop the phone.

“Falcon?” I squeak.

“Yes.”

“How did you get my number?”

“ESP.”

“What?”

He sighs, and I can almost imagine his lip quirking.

“I’ve had your number for some time, Angie.”

I flop down onto the nearby couch, my knees suddenly weak.

“You know where I am, don’t you?” I whisper.

“Yes. I’ve known that for some time, too.”

I say nothing, trying to figure out what this means. Did he really know? Or was this some kind of mindfuck game? And if he did know, why hadn’t he tried to contact me? Why had he sent Jag to ask me to come and see Tiger? Why hadn’t he just called himself? But chief among my questions is, why is he calling today? Is it his son? Has he taken a turn for the worse? Surely that must be it, he wanted to tell me himself that the boy had passed away.

“It’s Tiger, isn’t it?” I ask quietly. “Something’s happened.”

“No. No, not at all,” he says quickly. “He’s recovering well, although my enquiries have all come up blank as to who planned his poisoning. No trace seems to lead me to either of the royal families I suspect. Still, it’s early days.”

“Oh.”

I place one hand on my heart. It’s not that I really know the boy, but I’d felt maternal towards him when I’d seen how ill he was, and guilty as fuck that I’d left him at the castle so that I could run with my baby. I also know that if he dies Falcon will be forced, Eleanor had made that clear, to reach out for his only other heir. So it’s a double relief to know the boy is fine.

Falcon clears his throat.