Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95196 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95196 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
I would give anything to keep him. There, I admitted that, too. Except, I wouldn’t betray him. Not in more ways than I’d already done. And that’s exactly what taking his mark would be—a betrayal.
My teeth began to chatter, letting me know my emotions might not care about the chill, but my body did. I made my way inside the castle and halted in the foyer. No guards stood nearby. No employees either. Callen waited for me in our bedroom, hoping I appeared.
I rubbed a burning spot in the center of my chest. Should I grab some coins and gemstones from the ballroom and run, even without the potion and ID or a way past the wall undetected? Maybe this was some kind of test.
Had to be a test. No way Callen forgot my security detail with Tavish possibly on the loose. If I ran, I would shatter Callen’s trust. Which might have begun to form? But. If I didn’t run while I had the chance, was I a fool? Isobel had threatened my mother’s happiness.
I took a step toward freedom. Stopped. Stepped. Stopped. Could I really hurt the gentleman king as Isobel had? Especially while I was safe, fed, sheltered, and clothed…but in constant danger, thanks to unknown berserker traditions. Well, maybe not constant danger. Callen protected me.
But what about my mom? Tick tock.
What if I bumped into berserkers on my journey home? Talk about trouble. Unless I had the mark.
Should I set out for the unknown without it? And, really, it wasn’t like the mark would be on me, but his wife. Whom he didn’t even like. Me, however, he enjoyed. Wouldn’t the true betrayal be forcing him to mark the body with the real Isobel abiding in it? And did she truly deserve to experience it with the husband she had betrayed over and over?
After everything Callen and I had been through, we deserved to have our moment.
Excitement mixed with nervousness. Yes. I was gonna do it. I would take the mark. Decision made. No backing out. I would even take care of business with Isobel first so nothing distracted me from the act. In fact, I’d send her a photo of gold coins. That should buy me more time.
Feeling lighter, I headed for the ballroom. “No!” I exclaimed, coming to a halt just past the doors. My gifts. They were gone. Nothing remained but the faint trace of sage in the air.
Disappointment and frustration converged. But okay. All right. Callen must have ordered someone to move everything out of the way. In the morning, I’d ask around. For now, I sent Isobel a text:
You’ll get your money. I’m making arrangements.
I hoped she responded as I ascended the stairs. Alas.
My sweet Thora trotted past me with her nose in the air, acting as if I wasn’t standing right there. “What’d I do this time?” I asked.
She disappeared inside a sitting room, and I sighed. Another task for later. Soothing my dog.
Knees knocking, I made my way to the primary bedroom. Would Callen sweep me into his arms the moment I entered? Did I want him to?
I think…I did.
Breathless now, I opened the door. The block closed with a soft snick. There was Callen, in profile, sitting in the leather recliner near the unlit hearth. A glass of iced whiskey in hand, he stared at nothing.
“Did you love him?” The harshly stated question filled the room, and there was no escaping it. He didn’t glance my way.
I didn’t have to ask who he meant. Him. Roderick. I shrank into myself. Had Isobel loved him? I still didn’t know. “Would you feel better or worse if I said yes?”
Callen gave a humorless laugh and drained the remaining contents in his glass, the ice clinking. “Probably both.”
I wrung my fingers together. What had caused this sudden sullenness? My seeming rejection of the mark? “Did you love Sorcha?”
“I loved what she represented.” He swirled the ice. “I’ve told myself you must have loved Roderick, even though you didna seem to mourn him. That you hid your sadness to protect yourself. That you aren’t a cold, heartless shrew, but a young woman terrified of the unknown. How else can I let myself forge a life with a disloyal mate who cost me the only brother I had left, then saddled me with years of misery and challenges? Because, if I canna control my firebrand, how can I lead warriors to victory?”
My shoulders snapped straight. “I don’t want to be controlled. And you don’t want to control me.” He craved his wife’s affections with the whole of his being. I’d suspected it when he’d placed the tiara on my head, but now my certainty solidified, unbreakable. He wanted her to want him of her own volition, because he longed for a future together.
Whether he’d realized it or not, he’d even planted seeds for that future. He could’ve handled me differently. Could’ve locked me up. Beaten me. Threatened me. Humiliated me. Insulted me. Broken me. Publicly rejected me. Then he would’ve had the illusion of control. From the very beginning, he’d shown me the mercy he denied his enemies, giving me space to find my way.