It sounded like Clara’s voice was coming from far away, a distant echo ringing in her ears. She put out a hand to brace herself against the wall.
Cass set all of this up.
The way he’d talked Friday night, she’d assumed Daxon had come to Cass. But as she reviewed the conversation, she realized that while Cass had certainly been clever with his phrasing, he hadn’t explicitly said who had requested the alliance.
Betrayal turned her blood to ice. She knew Cass had used her, but she thought he’d at least been up-front with her. Instead, he’d orchestrated this entire play. To what benefit, she couldn’t be sure, but based on what little he had shared, she had a pretty good guess.
“I’m fine,” she said with a wan smile. “I think just all the travel and information overload, I’m a little dizzy.”
“I’ll get you some water.” Clara guided Briony to a chair set in a small alcove. “We’re just around the corner from Prince Alaric’s study. Once you’re feeling better, I’ll take you to him.”
Clara quickly walked off. Briony waited a heartbeat before she stood and walked down the hallway. She paused at the intersection of another hallway and then turned in the direction of murmured male voices. As she drew closer to a slightly cracked door, she heard Cass’s distinct voice. Just the sound of his deep tones set off a conflicting mix of desire and disgust.
“...set a date yet?” she heard a man ask, his voice deep like Cass’s but flat and lacking any trace of warmth.
“We haven’t discussed it yet,” Cass replied smoothly. “However, the contract stipulates within sixty days, which means eight weeks from yesterday.”
“What about the money?” This voice sounded much older, the raspy faintness reminding her of Trey after a night of binge drinking.
“It’s all in the contract, Daxon.” Cass’s reply was much colder this time.
Daxon. It felt like someone reached into her chest, grabbed her lungs and squeezed. That had been her father’s voice, infused with greed and disdain. Just the sound of it sent a chill skittering down her spine.
Her mind grasped at something, anything that might explain the coldness in Daxon’s voice. Anything but the possibility that her birth father was just like the family she’d left behind, perhaps worse.
“You forget where you are,Cassius.” Despite the weakness in Daxon’s voice, his tone was dangerous. “You are in the royal palace of Linnaea. You will address me as Your Majesty.”
“I didn’t realize Linnaean families stood on ceremony in private.”
Daxon’s cruel chuckle made her throat tighten as her heart twisted. “Marrying my bastard child doesn’t wipe away the stain of your own pathetic lineage. You will never be family.”
“Not by blood. But how does it feel to know the nephew of the woman you tried to destroy will officially be a prince of Linnaea?”
She closed her eyes against the hot sting of tears. Her fears on the plane paled in comparison to the awful truths she’d just overheard. Her fiancé had had an ulterior motive: revenge. And from the sound of it, her birth father was even worse than her stepfather.
What now?
The voices in the office dimmed to angry murmurs as she closed out the world. What did she do? Leave and find a way back to the States? And return to what? Cass had said he would pay for Trey’s treatment, their debt and the girls’ trust funds no matter what.
But then what? She didn’t have any desire to go back. So where would she go? And if she backed out of the contract, what would happen to the people of Linnaea?
Cass’s voice trickled out once more. Her heart gave a painful leap in her chest. Even after all of his betrayals, she couldn’t help but mourn what could have been, what she’d glimpsed on the plane just hours ago.
Her eyes opened as she lifted her head. There would be time to make her decisions later. Determination dried her tears and stiffened her spine. Right now, she needed to confront the men who had turned her life upside down again.
She didn’t bother with knocking, just pushed the door open and walked in, her shoes clicking on the hardwood. Three men turned to face her. Cass’s lips thinned as he took in the sight of his fiancée. She barely spared him a glance before her gaze swung to the other two men in the room.
Despite his age, King Daxon Van Ambrose was still a formidable man. His shoulders were more stooped, his slender body thinner beneath his suit and his skin ashy. But his emerald eyes, so like her own, flickered with a cold, shrewd intelligence. The black hair she’d seen in the photographs of Daxon with her mother was gone, replaced by silver that gave him a distinguished air.
The resemblance between him and his son, Prince Alaric, was clear, though Alaric was taller, burlier and colder. His face must have been carved from a glacier it was so still as he regarded her with his own green gaze. Also, unlike his sire, his hair was a dark brown, cut short on the sides and slightly longer on the top.
Cass moved to her.
“You’re early.”
She ignored the question in his voice and gave him a brittle smile.
“I figured it was time to meet my family.”