Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

GARRICK

Fuck if I hadn’t been just one more of those little whimpers from saying to hell with this whole plan and making her mine right there where anyone could have walked in. Of course Lord Tiny wasn’t right for her. I knew it before I even set up the meeting, but hell if I know why I set it up in the first place. I growl under my breath and turn back to the white leather chair I'd been lounging in when she barged into the room.

Why does she have to smell like jasmine and spice and my every Gods’ damned desire? I had been heartbeats away from digging my teeth into the soft flesh of her neck and marking her. Hopefully she doesn’t know what it means. Can I admit to myself what it means? The sudden need to blow off some steam becomes overwhelming. I whip around and almost run from the small room, her scent crashing into me again as I blow past the threshold. Keeping my wings tucked in tight, I storm through the manor, weaving around summit guests and staff alike. If this damn thing wasn’t necessary to keep the Eastern Court running smoothly—and to keep an eye on my subjects—I’d say to hell with the whole tradition.

A few minutes later I’m slamming open the door to the Sparring Rooms. I spot Felix alone working a punching bag and head straight for my half-brother. Most High Lords don’t have the luxury of being close with their siblings. The child most ‘fit’ to rule is usually whoever is left standing. But not with Felix. It wasn’t his heritage as a Demi-Fae—a bastard in the eyes of the High Fae—though, it was just his personality. He never coveted my seat, never wanted it for himself, despite being strong enough to give me a run for my money.

“You look like shit,” Felix laughs, clearly enjoying the uneasiness that must be twisting my features. I run a hand through my already tangled hair and glare at him. “Need to hit something?”

I grunt in reply and move to the weapon rack, grabbing a blunted longsword. Felix shakes his head at my choice and snags his preferred quarterstaff. We’re the only ones here, and I couldn’t be more thankful.

Drawing the steel in front of me, I move through a series of forms, warming up my muscles and getting used to the feel of a weapon in my hands again. It’s been too long. He blocks my strikes casually, and I spin into the next one, putting a little more force behind it than the previous attacks. “Wanna talk about it?” Felix asks as he throws out a combination that would be too fast for anyone else but me. I dodge, moving into a second maneuver. “I assume this means she hasn’t taken to your latest match?”

I growl in reply, throwing myself into another combination and pressing him backwards.

“But how could anyone resist the alluring charisma of Lord Thomas?” Felix laughs.

“I don’t know why I even set up the meeting.”

“Yes you do,” Felix snorts before launching into a flurry of blows. He has me off-balance, and I manage to block the last swing just before he brains me. I push my weight against his staff and throw him back.

“I don’t.”

“You’ve been setting her up with everyone you know has no chance in hell with her.” Because I’m her mate , I think but don’t say the words. I don’t need to. That glitter in Felix’s eyes and the mischievous smile he wears tells me he knows it too. He can probably smell it on me . Has she really not scented it? Maybe she has and doesn’t recognize it for what it is… Or she’s ignoring it as strongly as I am. “You know exactly who has a chance with her.”

I shake my head, pulling myself out of the ring and stowing the sword back on the rack. Of course I fucking know who does. That goading smile Felix wears is sharper than any weapon we have in the armory. He’s playing with me.

“The only Fae Lord that could…” Felix has stored his own weapon and makes his way to my side, wiping the sweat from his brow. I brace myself, waiting for my name to be thrown in my face. “Manning.”

Manning? That smug smirk he wears would put a pixie to shame. He’s challenging me, and he knows he has me dead to rights. “Manning isn’t right for her,” I spill without thinking.

Felix shrugs. “And since when did that matter? This was the plan, right? He’s attractive, charming, rich and powerful… The Duke of New York will have her doe-eyed and bedded before you can say mate .”

My nostrils flare at that last, testing word. “He’ll also have countless other women in his bed.”

Felix snorts. “And that’s your problem because…? I mean, as long as he gets the job done, right? You’re out of the marriage agreement and the Lady Adair gets two to three weeks of bliss before walking in on Lord Manning and a gaggle of nymphs.”

I nod once, squaring my shoulders. How I feel isn’t important. I cannot have that little tempest or her rigid father anywhere near my court.