with barely controlled rage. “And don’t try to deceive me. I saw the necklace you gave her. I know you have been lying to me, laughing at me…”
“Necklace?”
“Your mother’s necklace. The one you promised me. Has it been a fun game, playing me for a fool, showing me one face while wearing another away from me?”
Xander was confounded. He’d not given Lady Fleur the necklace. In fact, he was sure she wore no necklace when they were at dinner.
“I gave her no necklace, Avin.” He adopted a firmer tone now, feeling anger at her false accusation. “I gave her no gifts.”
“Do not lie,” she said. “I am sick of lies. And I’m sick of a man child who is no better than the father who sired him.”
“That’s enough,” he said, and took a step toward her. But when he did, Avin took another step back and picked up a fruit knife. For a moment, Xander thought she would attack him, but what she did was worse. Instead, Avin put it to her own throat, her eyes wild with pain.
“Do not touch me,” she said. “You will never touch me again, not after what you have done.”
“You’ve gone mad,” he said, but he did not approach her for fear of what she might do. “You accuse me falsely.”
A tear slipped from her eye. “No,” she said. “I do not. And you know I do not. Leave now and I swear I will not hurt myself. I will sit at your feet at the coronation, and then you will let me go, for I will take my own life before I let you keep me. I no longer put my faith in you.”
Xander backed away, confused and frustrated. He’d wanted to repeat his defense—that he’d not given the necklace to Fleur. That, in fact, he’d told no one of his plan to give it to Avin. The delusions were obviously her own. Her hurt had pushed her into madness, he decided. He’d lost her. He longed to reach out, to reach her. But he couldn’t. Not with her like this.
“You’re wrong,” he said again, and when she pressed the blade against her throat in response, he put his hands up.
“I’m leaving,” he said. “I’m leaving…”
And he did, seeking as he shut the door to suppress a cry of frustration at knowing he could not comfort her even if he wanted to.
Chapter Fifteen
Cynric knew he could not reveal any knowledge of what had happened. He’d gathered the plans for the castle and returned to the Great Hall, where he found Xander sitting at the head of the table with Lady Fleur, who looked more satisfied than ever.
The advisor observed that the king was working to keep his face passive as he conversed with the nobles. But to an astute eye, his tense posture suggested a man who was not at ease. Whatever had transpired between Xander and Avin, Cynric realized, had not been good.
Lord Reginald asked his son for permission to speak. Xander granted it gruffly, and the old man stood and told the nobles that with the king’s permission he would like to see a new castle built in the south, a castle that would eventually become the seat of the kingdom.
“Ravenscroft is the victor,” Lord Reginald said. “The seat should be there!”
The crowd cheered at this, and Cynric exchanged a quick glance with the king. Lord Reginald knew his son had been planning to seat him as warden of the south, and it was clear that he wanted more than regional power. He wanted to be at the seat of it—the power behind the throne at all times. What’s more, he wanted it to be apparent.
Cynric felt uneasy as he watched. Xander’s tension was becoming more obvious and when the king stood, for a moment the advisor feared he would verbally attack Lord Reginald. But instead, the king cut the discussion off, saying that much wine had been consumed and that this was a discussion best left for another time, when all could debate it soberly.
There were some grumbles, but also some sighs of relief as portly lords and tipsy ladies rose from their chairs and filtered from the room to seek their comfortable beds.
When only
“Necklace?”
“Your mother’s necklace. The one you promised me. Has it been a fun game, playing me for a fool, showing me one face while wearing another away from me?”
Xander was confounded. He’d not given Lady Fleur the necklace. In fact, he was sure she wore no necklace when they were at dinner.
“I gave her no necklace, Avin.” He adopted a firmer tone now, feeling anger at her false accusation. “I gave her no gifts.”
“Do not lie,” she said. “I am sick of lies. And I’m sick of a man child who is no better than the father who sired him.”
“That’s enough,” he said, and took a step toward her. But when he did, Avin took another step back and picked up a fruit knife. For a moment, Xander thought she would attack him, but what she did was worse. Instead, Avin put it to her own throat, her eyes wild with pain.
“Do not touch me,” she said. “You will never touch me again, not after what you have done.”
“You’ve gone mad,” he said, but he did not approach her for fear of what she might do. “You accuse me falsely.”
A tear slipped from her eye. “No,” she said. “I do not. And you know I do not. Leave now and I swear I will not hurt myself. I will sit at your feet at the coronation, and then you will let me go, for I will take my own life before I let you keep me. I no longer put my faith in you.”
Xander backed away, confused and frustrated. He’d wanted to repeat his defense—that he’d not given the necklace to Fleur. That, in fact, he’d told no one of his plan to give it to Avin. The delusions were obviously her own. Her hurt had pushed her into madness, he decided. He’d lost her. He longed to reach out, to reach her. But he couldn’t. Not with her like this.
“You’re wrong,” he said again, and when she pressed the blade against her throat in response, he put his hands up.
“I’m leaving,” he said. “I’m leaving…”
And he did, seeking as he shut the door to suppress a cry of frustration at knowing he could not comfort her even if he wanted to.
Chapter Fifteen
Cynric knew he could not reveal any knowledge of what had happened. He’d gathered the plans for the castle and returned to the Great Hall, where he found Xander sitting at the head of the table with Lady Fleur, who looked more satisfied than ever.
The advisor observed that the king was working to keep his face passive as he conversed with the nobles. But to an astute eye, his tense posture suggested a man who was not at ease. Whatever had transpired between Xander and Avin, Cynric realized, had not been good.
Lord Reginald asked his son for permission to speak. Xander granted it gruffly, and the old man stood and told the nobles that with the king’s permission he would like to see a new castle built in the south, a castle that would eventually become the seat of the kingdom.
“Ravenscroft is the victor,” Lord Reginald said. “The seat should be there!”
The crowd cheered at this, and Cynric exchanged a quick glance with the king. Lord Reginald knew his son had been planning to seat him as warden of the south, and it was clear that he wanted more than regional power. He wanted to be at the seat of it—the power behind the throne at all times. What’s more, he wanted it to be apparent.
Cynric felt uneasy as he watched. Xander’s tension was becoming more obvious and when the king stood, for a moment the advisor feared he would verbally attack Lord Reginald. But instead, the king cut the discussion off, saying that much wine had been consumed and that this was a discussion best left for another time, when all could debate it soberly.
There were some grumbles, but also some sighs of relief as portly lords and tipsy ladies rose from their chairs and filtered from the room to seek their comfortable beds.
When only
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