Scarred(Never After #2)(10)

And I need to figure out if this is a wrench in my plans.

The worst type of ignorance is one that can be avoided, yet isn’t. I won’t allow myself to fall into that trap.

And my uncle, he’ll know what to do.

Xander turns to me, although his words are for the king. “Sire, I don’t think it’s safe to allow communication on such sensitive terms.”

Something hot spikes through my chest at his disagreement.

“I’ll tell my father,” he continues, deciding to speak to me instead of around me.

“Cousin, I’d prefer to speak with him myself. He’ll worry once he hears news.”

Xander frowns. “Sara, you aren’t here to tell us about your preferences. You’re here to be the king’s bride. All you need to do is sit down, look pretty, and let me handle things. He’d want to know you’re safe, and I’ll ensure he does.”

My stomach twists, but I settle back in my seat, my hands folding together on my lap.

Michael’s eyes are watching me, their glassy sheen peeking through the cloud of smoke that curls around his face.

“Xander, don’t be so harsh on the girl,” he says.

Xander spins toward him, his hand whipping through the air. “Are you not concerned, sire? Reginald is dead. And a filthy hyena has made it into court and tossed his severed head at your feet, screaming about ‘the rebel king.’”

Michael straightens, his jaw tightening. “Yes. We were all there.”

My eyes flick back and forth between them. Did he just call that woman a hyena? My jaw tightens at the derogatory name. It’s no secret that’s what the “have nots” are called in this country, but to hear it being spoken so plainly, as if they aren’t worthy of names or respect just because of their circumstance, slaps against my insides and makes me seethe with anger.

“Regardless, this isn’t proper conversation for a beautiful woman.” Michael winks at me.

Xander nods, running a hand through his hair again. “Yes, of course not. Timothy,” he snaps, spinning to the royal guard in the room's corner. “Escort Lady Beatreaux back to her quarters.”

Disappointment plops in the middle of my gut, but I’m not surprised they’re sending me away. I’m not stupid. They won’t say anything of importance in front of me, especially before we’re wed, and if I’m honest, most likely even after. Women aren’t granted the same respect as a man, as if what’s between my legs has anything to do with the way my brain works or my ability to process information.

I was about to pluck my eyeballs out from listening to these two morons drone on, anyway.

I rise from my seat and move toward King Michael, curtsying. “Your Majesty.”

His hand tips up my chin, bringing me to a stand. “Sara, sweetheart. I’m sorry we haven’t been able to become better acquainted. But you know what they say... good things come to those who wait.”

I force a small grin. “I’ve always been told patience is rewarded.”

His eyes flare, and that’s my cue.

My skirts rustle around my ankles as I walk to the heavy wood door. Timothy, the royal guard, moves behind me, the black and gold of his uniform highlighting the deep tan of his skin; so different from the pale creams I’ve seen so far in this region.

“Timothy, right?” My voice echoes off the cold stone walls of the castle halls.

He glances at me out of his peripheral but stays silent.

“Are you from here?”

Still, he stays silent.

“Saxum, I mean.”

After a few long moments of no response, I sigh. “Alright, then. Not a conversationalist. Xander was speaking of that woman. That… hyena?” The word is rough on my tongue, and I watch his reaction, not expecting a verbal response, but hoping he gives away clues on his face.

He doesn’t. He’s trained well.

“Are you mute?” I purse my lips. “Or just not allowed to speak.”

The corners of his lips twitch.

“Honestly, that sounds terrible,” I continue. “Doesn’t it bother you? Being told that you can’t even talk?”

He side-eyes me again as we approach the wing of my personal quarters, stopping once we reach my room.

I reach out, the metal knob rough against my fingertips. Timothy moves to the side of my door, his back straight and his eyes scanning the area. I pause, my stomach tightening. “Are you planning to stand out here all night?”

He quirks a brow.

“Right, right. No speaking.” I grin. “Got it.”

He inclines his head in a half bow, and I slip inside my bedroom, shutting the door behind me, the grin dropping from my face as I make my way across the sitting area, looking for Sheina.

I don’t find her, so I assume she’s already turned in for the night.

Good.

There’s a woman in the dungeons, and if no one will give me answers, I’ll find them for myself.





CHAPTER 6





Sara B.





I’ve made it to the servant’s quarters—without meaning to—but this castle is large, and a little eerie, and it’s difficult to navigate the corridors in secret without knowing where you’re going. Anxiety teases my middle, hoping I don’t forget my way back.