Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
The man in question looked to him with an eyebrow raised and then noticed the gathering crowd around me. He chuckled and nodded, coming over.
“Yes, I do believe it is time for me to collect your new debts,” he said. He looked to me as he nodded his head, and I did the same.
“Ah, Your Highness, allow me to introduce Lord Monthermer’s first son and heir, Damon Du Bell, the Earl of Montagu. He is also my good friend, one might even say like an elder brother, and as such he does not collect debts,” Lukas said.
Ah, so this was Hathor’s brother.
“Do not listen to him. I very well do collect debts, family, friend, or foe. And I welcome you to Belclere Castle, Your Highness. The other gentlemen and I were about to go begin a game of cards, if you would like to join us?”
Before I could reply, Lady Mary once more spoke up.
“But you all have only just arrived. You would deprive us of your company?”
“Never, I merely wish to give you space, for I fear you all will grow sick of me before the week is done,” I teased, making them giggle.
“Worry not, I shall make sure his highness is returned promptly,” Damon replied to them before making space for me to go ahead as the footmen held open the doors. Only when the other gentlemen and I were through did I let out a deep sigh.
“Save your breath, my friend,” Lukas patted my shoulder. “We are only at the beginning.”
“I fear what will become of me by the end,” I muttered.
“It depends on what you seek,” Damon said as he looked me over carefully. Then he added, with a glance to Lukas, “For this is not your grand tour, Your Highness.”
Apparently eavesdropping on conversations was a family trait.
“Of course not,” I said with seriousness. “I have come at the queen’s command, and thus must be on my very best behavior. Though in private, please simply call me August; all this Your Highness is rather suffocating.”
“Very well, please follow me as we take our reprieve from the—”
“Damon, where are you all going?”
He turned and I looked to find…her. Lady Hathor, trailing behind her mother, her wits returned. Her curls had been pinned up and though her face was calm…she gripped her hands.
“Mother, I sought to take the men for a round of cards before they prepare for dinner,” Damon said.
“Very well. I will see to it the kitchen sends you all you may need; your father and his friends are still in the library.” She nodded and glanced to me. “Your Highness, should you need anything, merely say the word.”
“Of course, thank you, but I hope not to trouble you too much.”
She stepped aside about to walk by with Lady Hathor, who avoided all eye contact with me, her head turned as though she were watching a play in the sky.
“Lady Hathor, I do hope you are quite well?” I pressed, trying to gain her attention. She looked at me, familiar rage and heat in her eyes, but she said not a word, instead nodding once then performing the most pitiful curtsy before abruptly walking away, to the astonishment of her mother, her brother, and Lukas.
“Enjoy your games, gentlemen,” Lady Monthermer said and quickly went after her. I watched them depart, a grin spreading across my lips.
Well, it seemed she was going to remain true to her word.
“Should I ask?” Damon questioned.
“There is no need.” I turned back to him and looked him in the eye. “Truly, there is not.”
His shoulders relaxed. “Then come, let us see if you are better at holding on to your money than Lukas.”
“Don’t underestimate him, Damon, he can be relentlessly competitive,” Lukas said as they led me forward.
I merely followed, though I could not shake the image of her amber eyes.
Did she plan to glare at me all week? Never say a word to me? That would not do at all. I’d waited far too long to fight with her once more. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from chuckling.
“Gentlemen, may I introduce Prince Wilhelm of Malrovia, the queen’s nephew,” Damon said as we entered the room, where more than eight other gentlemen were already seated at round tables, drinking with cards before them. They all moved to stand up, their shoulders squared and proud.
“Relax, gentlemen, I wish to escape the formality; I am sure the women and all their mamas shall have me preening like a peacock all week,” I replied, raising my hands up in defense, making them snicker.
“Escape, Your Highness? I’m not sure we will have an hour before they riot,” a tall blond man with a freckled face said.
“An hour? My mother would box my ears if we kept him for even half of that,” another added, a tan-skinned man with shoulder-length black hair.