Chapter 79
-Aubrey-
~The next morning~
The clink of cutlery against China is loud in the morning stillness as I nibble on a slice of toast, my mind replaying the conversation with Soren last night. The tension from our exchange lingers when Maribel’s voice punctures the quiet.
“Damian will be joining us for shopping after breakfast,” she says, her eyes bright with plans and excitement. I had completely forgotten about going shopping. She doesn’t notice how my hand pauses, toast halfway to my lips, or the way my stomach tightens at the mention of Damian’s name.
I force a smile, one that doesn’t quite reach my eyes. Damian’s cool, appraising gaze has always made me feel like an intruder in this family’s life. His distrust is a shadow that follows me, even here at the breakfast table, while his mother buzzes about colors and fabrics for the upcoming wedding.
As we clear the table, my fingers fumble with the dishes, the nervous energy making me clumsy. I glance over at Soren, his brow furrowed with thoughts of the meeting that will keep him away from us today. Part of me wants him to join us, to act as a buffer between Damian’s scrutiny and my own.
unease.
But his absence is unavoidable, his kingdom demanding his attention. I understand, and yet, my heart sinks at the thought of being around Damian, it is obvious he doesn’t like me or
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trust me, and honestly his trust isn’t unwarranted, they have no clue who I am.
“Are you alright?” Maribel’s voice startles me out of my thoughts. She’s looking at me with eyes full of genuine concern and I realize I was staring off vacantly at Damian who folds his arms across his chest. Maribel glances at him and shakes her head.
I nod quickly, tacking on a smile that feels forced even to me. “Just a little lost in thought,” I manage to say.
She gives me a warm smile, placing her hand over mine. “Don’t fret about Damian,” she says as if reading my mind. “He can be a bit intimidating, but he means well. He is just protective of his brother.”
Damian snorts at her words.
“What is your problem?” she snaps at him.
“Nothing, you know I don’t like rogues,” he answers. She sighs, rolling her eyes at her son.
“She won’t be a rogue for long, she is marrying your brother!” she retorts quickly when Soren punches his brother’s arm hard enough I even wince.
“Lay off my fiance,” Soren growls. “You don’t have to love her; only I do!” Soren states, giving him a pointed look. Damian looks like he wants to say something more but stops when Soren grips his arm, dragging him out into the hall away from us. Maribel looks after them, alarmed.
“Gosh, why is he being like that?” she murmurs in confusion. “I thought he was starting to warm up to you. He was the one
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who told me himself you needed help with the wedding arrangements.”
“Who knows, he’ll get over it. You know how he gets about rogues. He doesn’t trust any of them,” Alaric states. “No offense, dear, we’ve had run–ins before, as I’m sure you know.”
I nod.
“If Soren says he loves you, that is good enough for me,” he adds, and I chew my lip nervously. If only they knew their son doesn’t love me.
“Now come on, maybe he’ll warm up to you after spending the day with us.” Maribel chirps, and I nod, following her out of the dining hall.
As we step out of the house and into the cool morning air, I cast one last longing glance back at the castle that has come to feel like home. Soren stands there, watching our departure impassively, but there’s something in his eyes that tells me he understands my apprehension as his eyes flick to Damian.
As we step into the car, I tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear, the weight of the morning’s tension settling over me. Damian takes the driver’s seat, his expression unreadable, while Maribel chatters excitedly about the day’s plans for shopping. Her enthusiasm is infectious, yet it does little to ease the knot of anxiety in my stomach.
Damian starts the car, and we pull away from the castle, the stone walls receding in the distance. The silence between Damian and me is thick, only punctuated by Maribel’s
occasional remarks about flowers and color schemes. After a few minutes of tense quiet, Damian speaks, his voice cutting sharply through the hum of the road.
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“I have your birth certificate,” he says, glancing at me briefly in the rearview mirror. “We’re going to stop by the council on the way to the mall. It’s time to get you officially registered.”
