The People Who Sold Me

The next morning, I found Lucien watching me over his tea.

"You have been doing that for five minutes," I said.

"You moved your chair farther away."

I looked at the small, incriminating stretch of carpet between us.

"I did not know whether you would want things to be different in daylight."

He set down the cup.

"Nora, I spent most of the night considering how to persuade you to move closer."

My face warmed.

"You could have asked."

"I am asking now."

I moved the chair. He caught my hand as soon as it was within reach and kissed the inside of my wrist.

The gesture was so brief that I might have imagined it, except for the way his mouth softened afterward.

I carried that warmth through the rest of the morning.

It survived even the letter from my father.

Gareth Vale requested an audience to discuss the family's new responsibilities. Tessa had added a note in blue ink, calling me her dearest sister.

I showed it to Lucien.

"You may refuse," he said.

"If I refuse, they will tell everyone I am being kept from them."

"They may tell everyone I have developed antlers. You are still permitted to refuse."

I smiled despite myself.

Then I thought of Owen's split lip and the way my father had worn his good coat.

"I want to see them. I do not want to spend the rest of my life dreading the next letter."

Lucien studied me, then nodded.

"Rusk stays in the room."

"I would have asked for him."

"Good. I prefer when we agree before I have an opportunity to be difficult."

My father arrived carrying a bottle of wine he had probably purchased on credit. Tessa wore a pale green dress and my mother's pearl earrings.

I recognized them before I looked at her face.

"Those are mine," I said.

Her smile faltered. "Father said you would not need them now."

Rusk closed the receiving-room doors behind them.

My father cleared his throat. "Surely we can greet each other before discussing jewelry."

I remained seated.

Mrs. Holt had explained that I did not have to rise. I had practiced doing nothing for a full minute before they came in. It was astonishing how difficult it felt.

"You may give them to Captain Rusk," I told Tessa.

She removed the earrings with angry fingers.

My father placed the wine on the table.

"You are looking well. The palace suits you."

"Owen is looking better too. His lip has healed."

His expression hardened. "The boy was insolent."

"He was frightened for me."

"You cannot understand the pressures I was under."

I looked at the bottle, the fine coat, the restored council insignia on his lapel.

"I understood them when you explained the payment."

Tessa sat without being invited.

Rusk looked at her chair until she stood again.

The silence tasted unexpectedly sweet.

My father tried another approach. He spoke of family loyalty, of appearances, of the council seat that would allow him to represent my interests.

Then he asked me to recommend him for a position in the royal household.

"No," I said.

He stopped midway through a description of his qualifications.

"You have not even considered it."

"I considered how you used the authority you already had."

Tessa's eyes flicked toward the captain.

"Nora, you are embarrassing him."

I touched the repaired clasp at my throat.

"I know what embarrassment feels like. He will survive it."

My father stood.

For a moment, the old reflex seized me: apologize, lower my eyes, make the anger pass before it reached Owen.

Then I remembered where my brother was. Safe in the library, arguing with his tutor over arithmetic.

"You will not receive a position through me," I said. "You will not take Owen home. And you will not sell anything else that belonged to our mother. Rusk will arrange its collection."

"You are still my daughter."

"I know. I wish that had meant more to you."

The words hurt as they left me. I had hoped the truth would feel cleaner.

It did not.

But when they were gone, I could breathe.

Lucien was awake when I returned. He set aside a report at once.

I sat on the rug beside his bed because the effort of staying composed had finally exhausted me.

He slid his hand into my hair.

"You do not have to tell me yet."

I leaned my cheek against the mattress.

"I thought I would feel triumphant."

"You can miss what he should have been and still refuse what he is."

I closed my eyes.

He stayed with me until the ache changed shape.

Derek's petition arrived two days later. It accused the palace of obstructing an unresolved pack betrothal.

I wanted to burn it. Instead, I read it twice and asked Rusk to prepare the public receiving room.

Lucien's expression darkened when I told him.

"He will not come within reach of you."

"Then put a table between us."

He looked down at his legs, still unreliable beyond a few steps.

I understood what it cost him to remain behind.

I took his face between my hands.

"I am not going to ask him to choose me this time."

His eyes lifted.

I kissed him, gently enough to feel the breath he held.

"I will come back."

Derek entered the receiving room with his father, Alpha Mercer, and a witness from Briar Hollow.

He wore the expression he used at ceremonies, solemn and trustworthy.

I kept both hands visible on the table until he sat.

"Our understanding was private," he began. "I came to resolve it without damaging either family."

"Then say clearly that it is ended."

His father shifted.

Derek's gaze sharpened. "We should discuss that alone."

"We will never be alone again."

Rusk moved half a step closer to my chair.

Derek noticed. So did everyone else.

I placed a declaration in front of the witness: no mating mark, no completed ceremony, no continuing betrothal. My household now belonged to royal territory, and Owen's guardianship had been transferred by the Crown's order.

Derek read the document without touching it.

"You will regret treating me like a stranger."

My hands were cold, but my voice held.

"You made yourself one."

I signed.

When I stood, my collar shifted. Lucien had kissed the same spot beneath my ear the previous night; afterward, a faint blue crescent had appeared where his wolf's energy touched mine.

Derek stared at it.

His face lost its color.

"He is awake," he said.

I fastened the top button of my dress.

"This audience is over."