Chapter Six

Chapter Six

I arrived at the feast late, my entrance drawing everyone’s direct, accusatory gazes. Fussing with the ends of my long sleeves, I pretended that tardiness was perfectly normal for me. It wasn’t at all influenced by the fact I had a captive to check in on.

My family sat at a table at the back of the room, positioned so that all seats faced the guests. One empty seat remained next to my mother, and she placed her hand on the back of the chair in a silent order to sit down and stop making an ass of myself.

I sat down, but I made no promises on the second part.

Francesca and the fake groom sat at the other end of the table. Though the physical distance wasn’t far, with our parents separating us, I’d have a hard time talking to either of them throughout the meal.

Father stood and addressed the crowd, a wine glass loosely held in his hand. “Welcome, everyone, to this momentous occasion. This joining of two great families will not only protect the five kingdoms but will lead to future prosperity and happiness for all.”

I zoned out after the first two sentences. Father enjoyed long, poetic speeches, both giving them and listening to them. If no one stopped him, it would probably go on for another half-hour.

Knowing his tendencies to drone on, Mother motioned for the staff to begin serving. A prepared plate was set in front of me—grilled lamb, roasted asparagus, buttered potatoes, and a soft roll. Running back and forth between the castle and the tower had worked up an appetite. A forkful of potatoes was halfway to my mouth when Father’s words penetrated my thick skull.

“And to my future son. Though I have not had the pleasure to know you yet, I trust that I will grow to love and understand you as I do my own children. Welcome to the family.”

My fork slowly lowered back to the plate. The servings were generous, the food cooked to perfection, yet I couldn’t eat a damn bite. All I could think of was Brendan in my tiny tower kitchen, eating a sandwich or a bowl of oatmeal, missing the feast held in his honor.

“Are you alright, Frederick?” Mother murmured, hiding her concern behind a sip of wine.

“Rick,” I corrected automatically. “I’m fine.” I stabbed a spear of asparagus and chewed it thoroughly to satisfy her.

As the dining hall filled with friendly chatter, fewer people watched the head table. With less attention on us, I leaned back in my chair, trying to see the imposter. They couldn’t take off their helmet unless they were confident no one knew what the prince looked like. They also wouldn’t want to cause problems later once the real prince returned to marry Franny. Would they claim they were going on a hunger strike?

The visor was pushed up to expose only their mouth, covering their eyes as a result. They fumbled with their fork and bumped it into their chin and cheek a few times before successfully taking a bite.

I snorted. Serves them right for using a suit of armor to trick us.

My amusement faded as Franny murmured something and set her own fork down. She clasped the imposter’s hand, taking the fork from them. Then proceeded to carefully feed them. It should have looked childish—like a mother feeding her baby—but Franny’s smile lacked condescension.

The more she cooperated with this farce, the bigger of an ass I felt. If she would just complain, cry, anything to let me know I’d done the right thing. Every damn smile she gave her fake future husband stabbed a little needle of regret into me that sharpened into annoyance.

“So, Brendan,” I said, loud enough to be heard across the table, “tell us about yourself.”

“Brendon,” Francesca corrected, sending me a chiding look.

I considered calling out the name ‘Kit’ but didn’t have any excuse for the knowledge.

“Not much to tell,” the imposter said rather than be caught in a trap.

I wondered if they knew about the letters Brendon had written to Francesca. Did she read any of them? Would she be able to catch them in a lie? He’d said she’d never written back, but that didn’t mean they’d gone unopened.

“What do you do when you aren’t clomping around in armor and charming women?”

“Frederick,” Mother hissed. “Don’t be inappropriate at the dinner table.”

The imposter replied simply, “I read.”

Dammit, I couldn’t even call them out on that because I’d walked in on Brendon reading earlier that day.

“What do you read?” Franny asked with genuine interest.

I pursed my lips. She was doing her best to make this engagement work, but how long could she keep it up? Was she going to pretend to be happy every day for the rest of her life? What would she do if Brendon—the real one—didn’t put in the same effort? If it was just one wedding day and a marriage on paper, it would be easier, but part of the condition was that they had to live together as a married couple, so the kingdoms could be joined.

“Novels, mostly. There’s one fairly popular one in Bane right now, I don’t know if you’ve heard of it in Woe, but it’s about a woman left at the altar. It’s called—”

“The Bride’s Revenge,” the imposter and Francesca said at the same time.

“Of course, I’ve heard of it! It’s one of my favorites,” Franny gushed. “I’ve already re-read it twice. The author does an amazing job of foreshadowing—”

And they were off, talking about some book that sounded like a mix between a killing spree and a tawdry romance. Mother had to clear her throat a few times before either of them looked at her and she dryly stated, “Please continue your colorful discussion after dinner.”

Even after being rebuked, Franny’s face glowed with excitement. As soon as the feast concluded, she dragged the imposter off to compare their libraries and favorite titles.

Fuck, now I had a totally different problem on my hands. If Franny genuinely liked the imposter, what would happen once Brendon returned?

“Where are you going, Fred?”

I jumped and almost dropped the plate in my hand. I turned to face my mother who eyed that plate suspiciously. I’d barely touched my own food, but I’d asked for the servers to wrap up leftovers for me to take, claiming I might want to eat it later.

“Uh, just, to … my room?”

“Which is in the opposite direction.”

“Oh, is it?” I looked around the hall as if I hadn’t lived here my whole life.

“Are you alright?”

“Perfectly fine.” I edged around her, then kissed her on the cheek. “Goodnight!”

“Fred—”

I escaped around the corner before she finished speaking. Getting to the stables to saddle Chester would be more difficult with her hanging out near the front hall, but the tower was only a half-hour walk away. I climbed out the nearest window, careful not to dump my plate, and snuck around until I found the right path.

Moonlight illuminated the road before me, and the quiet sounds of the forest provided a scenic backdrop for a pleasant walk. Totally wasted on someone quickly descending into villainhood, no matter how unintentionally.

I arrived at the tower and slowly approached the door. Now that Brandan knew I was the only one who could open it, I expected him to be on the other side, waiting to bludgeon me with one of the books and make his daring escape. I pushed it open a few inches and braced myself.

No attack came.

Slipping inside the rest of the way, I found the front room empty. “Hello?”

A moment passed, and then footsteps rushed down the stairs. I jumped out of the way so Brandan wouldn’t run into me, clutching the dinner plate for dear life.

He looked past me, hope and excitement apparent on his face, until he saw the firmly closed door. His shoulders slumped, giving him the woeful appearance of a kicked puppy.

My heart clenched and I scolded it firmly to stop it. “I uh”—my voice cracked, and I cleared my throat self-consciously—“I brought you dinner?”

He looked about to refuse it out of sheer stubbornness, then yanked the plate from my hands and muttered, “Thank you.” He took it into the kitchen and sat at the table, his back to me.

“So, uh, we should probably—”

“You can go,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“Right, sorry.” I touched the doorknob, then turned around and asked, “Have you ever read The Bride’s Revenge?”

He glanced over his shoulder, his brow furrowed. “What?”

“It’s a book. A romance. It’s one of Franny’s favorites.”

Turning fully to face me, he asked, “If I read the book, will you let me out of the tower?”

I flinched and said, “That’s not … It’s not about a trade. I’ll let you out as soon as I find another solution.”

“And how are you going to find that solution?”

“I don’t know yet.”

Dissatisfied with my answer, he turned his back to me and all I heard from him were the soft clinks of fork against plate. I waited another minute to see if he would say anything else, then slipped out the door.