Chapter 162: Rebound
He felt her sob in his arms, all the while noting the way she kept herself very stiff.
She hadn’t still forgiven him.
Would she ever forgive him?
"You should go. I shouldn’t bother you with such things, Your Grace."
His hand around her shoulder tightened.
"I have apologised, Claire. What else would you have
do? Roll on the ground?"
"Nothing. I would rather be alone."
"If it is your father’s house you want, I would have it renovated for you."
He heard her breathing still.
"I thought it would be suspicious."
"Nothing is more serious than being in the sa room and knowing that I have no right to... to touch you."
At his words, she shrugged out of his embrace.
"You never had a right to touch
in the first place! But I let you. Are you really so blind?"
He sat up, annoyed that she had moved away from him.
"Blind? Blind to what?"
He heard shuffling movent, like she was tugging aggressively on the covers.
"I don’t really want the land, but you seem so bent on shoving it at
to satisfy your conscience!"
Satisfy his conscience? What was she spouting this ti?
"Then what in blazes do you want?" His tone was harsh, harsher than he had intended.
But he couldn’t take the words back, she had pushed him to it.
Silence fell over them such that the only thing that could be heard was their ragged breathing.
"Isn’t it as clear as day?" Her voice was soft, so soft he thought he had imagined it.
"I want you."
She wanted him.
The words burrowed deep inside him as he repeated them over and over in his head.
"You have ." He said quietly.
He heard her scoff with disbelief.
"Do I?" Was all she asked.
Yeren had no answer to that question.
Slowly, he slid off the bed and walked out of the room.
She didn’t want any land or house or property... she only wanted him.
What exactly did that an?
In a daze, he opened the room and slid into the dimly lit hallway.
Many things awaited him the next day - he had to convene with the council to discuss the transfer of ownership of the Straught lands, Redmare’s embezzlent of the crown’s coin and Andon’s exile.
He needed to sleep, but deep down, he knew how far-fetched such a wish was.
He went down to his room and closed the door, ignoring the watchful gazes of his guards.
As soon as he crossed the threshold, he threw off his coat and went straight for the goblet of wine at the decanter.
She was supposed to be pouring his wine - she had touched the goblet more tis than he could count.
He sank into the cushioned chair at a dark corner and downed the goblet in one go.
Garelle’s words ca back to him in a blur.
She had overheard her father’s conversation with another the night before the wedding, hence her hasty decision to end the marriage.
They had been planning to remove him as soon as Garelle bore him a son, intending to use their relationship as a family of the Crown to rule until the boy was to co of age.
He got up and refilled his goblet.
He hadn’t expected anything less, but the fact he was doing the Plutte family a great honour was enough to dispel his fears.
But they weren’t just fears.
Soone had tried to kill him on his way to the Town square.
A band of Rogues.
It wasn’t the first ti Rogues had attacked him. The first ti was at he and Garelle’s mating ceremony.
Before then, the Rogue’s were always content to raid only human territory.
But to target him directly?
That was a different case entirely. And Garelle knew that. She only told him because she heard about his ambush on the road and probably realized that putting an end to the marriage alone would not save his life.
Nothing would. Except... he wiped out every single Council mber that served the Crown.
But were all of them guilty?
Redmare undoubtedly was, but he needed proof first. The man was as fickle and slippery as an eel.
Soti in the morning, he awoke to find that he had fallen asleep on the sa chair. His goblet had fallen out of his hand and rolled underneath his writing desk.
Groaning, he stood to his feet and stretched.
A glance at the balcony told him that it was well into the morning.
The council must be waiting.
Yeren cursed under his breath as he rang for his attendants to attend to him.
After dressing, he went straight to the council chamber at an unhurried pace.
As he entered, his eyes landed on the woman standing carefully beside his chair. Her hair was down and she was wearing another dress that made him frown inwardly.
As if she sensed him, she looked up sharply and their eyes t.
Falstaff was grinning from ear to ear, his eyes fixed slowly on her.
"Like mother, like daughter." He heard Falstaff whisper to her.
Her shoulders stiffened and her lips thinned, but other than that, she said nothing.
Yeren had never seen her look so depressed and dejected. He even feared she might harm herself.
And majority of the pain she was feeling, he knew, wasn’t because of what she discovered about her mother.
Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he stepped further into the room.
All eyes snapped to him and they all murmured their greetings.
As usual, Yeren barely heeded them as he took his seat at the head of the table.
"Would you like so wine, Your Grace?" She asked.
Her voice chanical and lifeless, he couldn’t help but notice.
He shook his head.
"Shall we begin?"
A glance around the table told him that Redmare was conspicuously absent.
"Where is Lord Redmare?" He asked, weighing ignorance as to his whereabouts.
The n at the table exchanged glances.
Only Lord Bronan couldn’t be bothered to know. His concerned gaze was fixed on the woman beside him.
Yeren spared her a sideward glance. Her head remained cast down, her shoulders drooped yet stiff.
He wanted to pluck out the man’s eyes with the quill he kept twirling between his fingers.
And he probably would have, until Lord Rodick spoke.
"No one has heard about his whereabouts, Your Grace. We all just assu that he had returned to the Town to see to the renovations after your... query."
Query? What a diplomatic word to use.
"Well, shall we proceed to the first item of this eting?"
Since Andon was not present he had to speak for himself. "The transfer of ownership of the Straught lands to his nieces."
Falstaff glanced at Miss Stenly and sneered.
"The land should be donated to the poor and needy instead. Her mother’s bastard is probably buried in those grounds, it wouldn’t be good for the Stenly girls to live there."
If Yeren didn’t know him any better, he would have assud that the man was speaking out of concern for Claire and her sister.
He glanced at the woman beside him to see how she received Falstaff’s words.
She looked incredibly pale and was leaning heavily against his chair. Her eyes looked frosty and distant, her chest heaving with each breath she struggled to take.
"Miss Stenly?"
Then, she heaved out her guts on the floor beside him.
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