Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 71403 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71403 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
The other woman peered at me over the rim of the teacup, eyes both bright with intelligence and glazed with dreams. An odd, unsettling combination. “You are the dragon who has enamored my grandson so totally, he’s broken hundreds of years of protocols to keep you close. This, in only one night.”
Whoa. “Sebastian is your grandson?” Forget the protocols for now. In ten million years, I never would have guessed Lady Harpa shared a familial connection with Sebastian. They looked so different. Not just physically, but everything. He was composed; she was… not.
She offered a slightly crazed smile and leaned over to pat the chair next to hers. “Did you think mermaids created my little Basty with sand and water and dropped him at the palace door?”
“Nein.” I did my best not to rush over. To center as I eased down on the commanded spot. “I just, I suppose I hadn’t considered that his family still lived.” I’d heard nothing about them.
“I’m the only one left. But then, the Raving Pearl isn’t so easy to kill now, is she?” After pouring me a cup of tea, she passed over the steaming beverage.
I thanked her with a dip of my head. “Raving Pearl is an… interesting nickname.”
“Isn’t it? Occasionally said with a laugh. Mostly with fear. You, however, came armed with curiosity.”
“Ja. I came for a cup of truth,” I admitted, and the other woman nodded. “I’m told you are the one with answers.”
She smiled. “If you’re brave enough to ask, I’ll respond. Though you might not like what I have to say.”
Well. She’d just made it clear: there would be no steering her into inadvertently revealing facts about Sebastian. Either I stated my interest outright, or I walked away disappointed.
I’d start small. “I’m not ashamed of my curiosity regarding your grandson. I’ve only just met him, but he has utterly consumed my world.” Honest without giving away too much.
“Ah. The consuming of worlds. That’s his specialty,” she said with great fondness. “He’s exactly as you imagine, I suppose. Cultured. Attentive. Dangerous in ways that might feel flattering. He never forgets. Not names, birthdays, or small preferences. He listens. To everything, even to what we don’t say.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “Tell me, my dear. Are you here because you wonder if you’re special to him?”
My chest tightened. “Am I special to him?” Or was I merely a tool in his arsenal?
“You are and you aren’t, I’d say. He chose you for the convergence, didn’t he?” Lady Harpa cackled as she refilled her cup. Or rather, missed the saucer and didn’t notice. “That has to matter. At least for something.”
Guess our arrangement wasn’t quite as secret as he’d claimed. “You know about my bargain with him?”
“Oh, my dear. I know everything always. Not because he told me the secrets you share. He did not. My eyes and ears are everywhere. And now, I’ll share something with you. My Basty doesn’t keep his women. Never has, never will. He knows better.”
So we were diving into the deep end. “Why does he know better?”
She looked at me and frowned. “Because he does. Why else?”
Subverted—check. I was disappointed, ja, but not out for the count. I tried again, growing bolder. “Does he not long to create a bond with his firebrand?”
The cackling resumed, only on a larger, louder scale. “Long to create a bond with his firebrand,” she echoed, wiping a tear from her eye. “That’s a good one. I’ll have to remember to tell the ladies in my knitting circle. If ever I start a knitting circle.”
Her mockery stung. I’d yearned for my firebrand my entire life, craving his camaraderie. His affection and comfort. To be held as only a firebrand could be held: treasured, adored, protected. A deep need for the kind of love my parents never had.
I went stiff all over. My parents, a subject I despised. My father… he’d murdered my mother. A horrific, public slaying done to pass the queen’s crown to his mistress.
Mom hadn’t been his firebrand, but the mistress had.
My hands curled, and I hurried past the memory. If I dared linger on it, sorrow, loss, grief and fury would swamp me. They always did.
“You have never been in love, Lady Harpa?” I asked.
“Oh, I have, most certainly. And I learned my lesson well. Where love goes, pain follows.” Her tone hardened. “Never again.”
Hmm. Had she lost the man and still grieved? “Please forgive me for my candor, but I believe love is worth any price.”
Olyssa had recently found her firebrand. The two were absolutely disgusting together, and it had made my craving for mine a thousand times worse. They were always smiling, kissing and reaching for the other’s hand, and I couldn’t wait to experience that kind of nauseating affection for myself. To know I could trust my man with every part of me.