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Scarred (Never After #2)(27)

Author:Emily McIntire

I cross my hands in my lap as I stare at Xander, allowing the silence to linger long after they’re gone. I may be a woman, but I am not a fool, and I’ll no longer allow him to treat me like I am.

“Cousin,” he starts.

“Do not cousin me, Alexander.”

He stiffens in his chair.

“I’m tired of sitting here as if nothing is happening,” I continue. “Your father told me I could trust you. Can I truly?”

“Sara, please.” He drums his fingers on the wooden arm of the chair. “You’re here because of me. But these things take time, they’re fragile. Delicate.”

My chest tightens. “Time moves a lot slower when you’re used as a prop.”

He scoffs, shaking his head. “Do you have any idea what has gone into this? What it’s taken to get you here?” The chair creaks as he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I know it’s difficult to wait, but everything is falling into place. You just need patience.”

“Nothing is happening.” I flick a curl that’s fallen from my face. “How long am I supposed to sit here and pretend I’m happy gossiping with the ladies of court? I want to avenge my father, Xander. Maybe you don’t understand that because you’ve never felt the pain of losing the only one you loved.”

He rolls the cigar between his fingers. “In an hour’s time, you’ll head into the town square with His Majesty, where he’ll dine with you and propose in front of the people. We’ll have an engagement ball.” He pauses. “Everyone will be there.”

My breath whooshes out of me, relief replacing the tension that’s been knotting up my spine. “And then we’ll make a move?”

Xander nods. “Then we’ll make our move.” He cocks his head. “Is there something else going on?”

Now it’s my posture that straightens, flashes of yesterday afternoon flooding into my brain. “What else could be going on? I’m all alone in an enormous castle with nothing but my thoughts and my… trust.”

Xander’s lips purse. “Well, once your betrothal is announced, you’ll be much busier. Etiquette courses and wedding planning, of course.”

My nose scrunches.

“Don’t forget why you’re here, cousin. What this is all for,” he implores, lowering his voice and leaning in. “We must move with precision, not haste.”

“I know.” I let out a sigh. “But it doesn’t make it any easier.”

He runs his fingers beneath the frame of his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry you’ve felt so alone and in the dark. That was never my intention. I’ll do better from now on.”

The tangles in my stomach loosen. “Thank you.”

“The wedding will be within six months’ time.” He stands, buttoning the front of his black jacket, his hand slicking over the top of his hair.

“Six months?” My eyes widen.

He shrugs, his eyes growing serious as they peer into mine. “No one said you had to take six months. Use this time to play the part… so we can rip them out by the roots.”

“I know what to do,” I snap.

A small smirk tips his lips. “Good. No worries, then.”

“Absolutely none.” I raise my hands in the air, grinning.

The conversation should put me at ease. After all, he’s finally speaking to me as if I’m part of the plans. But there’s something about the way the air thins that sends alarm tickling my skin, making my hair stand on end, and it hits me that maybe my cousin Xander isn’t the person my uncle has led me to believe he is.

The nausea in my stomach strengthens, churning like a looming storm.

“Lady Beatreaux, you look stunning.”

Michael’s voice booms across the court as my ladies-in-waiting and I make our way to the automobiles lined up at the gate.

There’s a chill in the air, even though it’s just past September; and as the clouds loom over the sky, I have another moment of missing the sunshine of Silva. I wonder how two places within the same country can be so vastly different, yet coexist within the same borders.

I suppose it’s because borders are man-made, and mother nature doesn’t confine herself to the rules of man.

If only we all could be so lucky.

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” I drop into a curtsy as I reach him, the stiff bones of my corset making my breathing shallow. I’m sure that Ophelia cinched it too tight, but I ignore the discomfort.

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