Shades of Truth (The Summerlynn Secrets) (24 page)

He smiled. “Jealous?”

That was a topic I didn’t want to discuss now. Or ever. “Please go. I am too tired to argue.”

“That has never stopped you before.” If anything, he seemed to set his feet more firmly on the ground. His eyes were a warm touch on my cheek. “Leave your father with me, sweetheart. No good will come of your involvement.”

My mind assimilated the words instantly. “Does this mean you have him? Here?”

His jaw firmed. He gave a quick bow in my direction. “I believe it is time for me to leave. Good night.”

“Stop right there!” I was across the room tugging at his elbow before I remembered telling my feet to move. “If my father is here, you owe it to me to tell me.”

He looked down his nose at my hand on his arm. “I owe you nothing.”

Abruptly I reached the end of my patience. “I wish I’d never met you! All you’ve brought me is trouble!” I had gone too far. I saw it in the way his blue eyes frosted. Slowly, almost as if he were too angry for fast movement, he removed my hand from his arm. “You are upset. I should go.”

“Yes.” I turned my head away, refusing to so much as look until I heard the door close.

Stunned, I stared at the deep white rug on the floor. What just happened? Was my father here, in the palace? I imagine this place had a dungeon or a place to detain the bad guys. I had to find him. Where did I start? I looked longingly at the door to the bathroom, where the tub waited. No. My own comfort would have to wait until after I found him. If there was even a chance my father was here, I had to look for him.

He must really be working on something sensitive involving the Norths if they threw him in prison. I wondered what he’d planned. Obviously the plot hadn’t worked as my father disappeared, leaving everyone, including the Norths, searching for him. What was important enough to actually frighten the royal family into imprisoning my father? Was he blackmailing them? If so, what was the big secret?

As for Colton, I refused to spare a thought for what might have been an almost declaration of his feelings for me. I snorted. More likely, he’d thrown the vague sentences about our relationship in the conversation to knock me off the scent of my father. No. I had no time to think of him as anything other than an obstacle between my father and I.

A slight knock came at the door. I called a summons, praying it wasn’t Colton. After what we’d said, we both needed time for our tempers to cool.

Entering, Maura curtseyed, careful not to drop any of the clothes in her
arms.

“Begging your pardon, miss, but Her Majesty wanted you to have a few of her old clothes until you can be fitted for new ones.” Maura lifted her
arms to show me the clothes.

Old indeed. I saw the luxurious satin and velvet cloth, and wondered if they’d ever been worn. Must be nice to be the queen. I wasn’t at all certain they’d fit, as I was quite a bit taller than Queen Cassandra, but I was willing to put anything on.

Maura’s bustle was welcome in the sudden stillness of my room. It was as if my argument with Colton sucked all the energy from me. Finished hanging the clothes in the closet, Maura held up an exquisitely embroidered lace nightdress.

“Do you need help preparing for bed?”

“No, thank you. I will ring if I require anything further.” The only thing I required at the moment was finding my father.

“As you wish. Good night, miss.” Maura curtsied, and left me to my thoughts.

None of which were pleasant. I’d been hammered with surprise after surprise and now simply felt apathetic. My mind was spinning so fast, I didn’t even know what I was thinking. The one constant refrain was my father. I had to find him.

But after a bath, I decided. My skin was coated with all kinds of dirt and tree sap and my hair hung in clumps. Besides, if my father was here, an hour wouldn’t mean the difference between his life and death. He was apparently a very valuable commodity.

The water was gloriously hot when I turned the taps. Within minutes I was submerged to my neck in rose scented water. Along with bath salts, soap, and towels, I had everything I needed for a satisfying bath.

Feeling strangely restless after changing into a borrowed cotton dress and requisite under garments, I began pacing my room. Though I was tired, my bath restored my alertness. I wanted answers. I wanted a resolution to my argument with Colton.

Yes. He was the problem. It all came back to him and what he refused to tell me about my father. With a single sentence, he could banish all my fears about what he’d been working on, what he’d done to earn such hatred from the people we’d met. Plus, if my father was imprisoned in the dungeons, he could reunite us. But no. Colton persisted in keeping secrets.

Obviously my father’s work was very important to the Norths. What was it? What instilled enough fear in them to risk the life of the heir to the throne by sending him to meet with my father? Not that Father was a cold blooded murdered, at least I didn’t think he was, but perhaps he was. This trip was showing me how little I knew of my father as well as the man who’d risked his life to save mine (not that his had been in any danger all along but still, his willingness to sacrifice
himself for me went beyond the call of duty).

This would be settled tonight. I would find Colton and demand he tell me if my father was here. If he refused to tell me, I would find a way to convince him to talk. I could always break a finger, but he would never sit still for that. I’d need to disable him. Perhaps I should bring along something heavy from my room and cosh him over the head if he was difficult.

Who was I kidding? Colton was furious at me for saying I wished I’d never met him. I’d seen his eyes. Of anything I might have said in that situation, I picked the one thing designed specifically to wound. It might not have been all roses, and I might wish a lot of things gone, but not Colton.

This rift in my relationship with Colton was nearly as nagging to my brain as the knowledge my father might be close. Knowing I wouldn’t be able to sleep without speaking to Colton again, I collected a shawl from the closet, and opened the door to the hall. I wasn’t quite certain where he would be, but the stairs were central to the palace. I would have to check the common
rooms of the house. I couldn’t go room to room for fear of what I might find.

My feet were bare and I felt every wisp of plush rug between my toes. The railing was polished to a soft glow, which I muffled with my hand.

“Where are you going?”

The voice from the hallway on the second floor caused me to jump and almost tumble down the staircase.

Colton appeared from the shadows. Freshly bathed and hair slightly damp, he’d changed into a clean pair of black trousers and a fitted green shirt. The shine on his black boots rivaled the stars and he suddenly looked like a prince. Except for the blonde beard, of course. That hinted at things a prince would never do.

“I came to find you.” I stepped off the landing, coming to stand in front of him. I left a bit of distance between us, but if I was going to apologize, I wasn’t going to shout while doing it.

“Oh?” His expression was guarded. This close, I began to feel the hum of attraction. If I took the tiniest step forward and if he lowered his head…

No. I did have a reason for seeking him out but it didn’t involve kissing, or touching, for that matter. “I wanted to
continue our conversation, to— " His hand on my elbow halted my words along with any semblance of thought.

“We cannot talk in the hallway. Come.” Waving an imperious hand, Colton led me down the hallway, opening the door to what surely had to be the most magnificent room in the house.

A fire raged in the hearth, highlighting bookcases stretching floor to ceiling. Though the lamps had not been lit, I had the impression of vastness. Couches and armchairs were artistically arranged around the room and Colton guided me to a pair in front of the fire. A decanter and half-empty glass stood sentry on the table between the chairs.

“I didn’t know you drank.” I gestured toward the brandy. The fire heated the armchair and I tucked my cold feet beneath my dress.

He shrugged, upending the glass in his mouth. “Have you come to finish me off, then?” He looked up, and our eyes locked. His were bleaker than I’d ever seen.

“I came to apologize.” I played with the ends of the shawl. “I said some very mean things to you earlier. They were hurtful and I never should have said them.”

“That does not make them any less true.” Carefully, he set his empty glass back on the table. His hands were still steady, leading me to believe he hadn’t been drinking for long. “Having a woman declare she wished she’d never met one is not exactly what a man wants to hear.”

“You know I didn’t mean that.”

“Then why say it?”

“Because you were being arrogant and hateful and I wanted to say something that would make you leave.”

“It certainly did that.” Idly, he flicked the empty glass with a long finger.

“I am sorry for saying I wished we’d never met. I am tired and out of sorts because you won’t tell me where my father is.”

“It’s not safe,” he began the familiar refrain, but then closed his mouth. “I suppose you believe I am making that up as well.”

“Since you haven’t confided in me, I have no choice but to believe what I want and ignore all the rest.” My own gaze settled on the fire. There was something hypnotizing in the way the flame encircled the wood. My father always enjoyed fires. I turned to look at him.
“Colton, is my fath—“

“Sorin,” he corrected.

I raised my eyebrows at him. “Don’t you like Colton?”

“Only on special occasions.” He kept his eyes trained on the glass he could not stop fiddling with.

Ignoring the name issue I pressed, “Is my father here?” From the way he’d been acting and the recent comments about his whereabouts, he knew something I didn’t. And that something was bad, which caused me to question whether I’d like to treasure my ignorance for a little while longer.

“I have only been home,” he checked the clock on the mantle, “three hours. Am I allowed any rest?”

“You met with your father. Surely he knows what happened.” I watched his face carefully. From the way it shuttered, he knew about my father. “Tell me.”

“What makes you think I know?”

“Because you will not look me in the eye.”

He lifted his head. Those blue eyes met mine, and I felt the earth shake just a tiny bit. Hardly noticeable, really. “What is it you wish to know?”

“Is my father here, in the palace?”

He paused. “That knowledge is not helpful in the current
circumstances.”

“Is that a no?”

“No.”

“Then it’s a yes.”

“No.”

“This is exactly what makes me want to hit you. I ask a question and instead of answering it, you either dodge or ignore it completely.” I got to my feet, shaking out the folds of my dress.

“Cadrian, this isn’t a battle you want to win.”

“It doesn’t have to be a battle.” I met his eyes. “Will you at least tell me if my father is alive?” There. I’d finally asked it. The one unknown constantly at the back of my mind was now free to crumble my soul.

A long sigh. “Your father is dead.”

Like a physical blow, that information balled deeply into my gut, spreading outward until my entire body was consumed with pain. I curled over on myself, hugging my middle as I waited for the pain to ease. It didn’t.

Never had I experienced feelings so powerful they knotted my muscles and seized my stomach. I felt horribly nauseous. How could words have the ability to knock me sideways? The power to make me physically sick?

I must have swayed, because Colton grabbed me, lifting me high against his chest before subsiding into his armchair. His
arms remained tight around me, negating my struggles. Not that I fought him. That would take effort and I was through with that for the evening.

Drawing my knees to my chest and nudging aside the
arms banded around my waist, I tried to curl into as small a ball as possible. I buried my face against his shoulder, surprised when my wet cheeks clung to the fabric of his shirt. Maybe if I took up less space, pain wouldn’t be able to find me.

Beneath me, Colton shifted, reaching for something. It wasn’t until he pushed a glass against my clenched fists that I realized what it was. My fingers were reluctant to unclench, meaning he had to shape my hand around the glass. His hand remained around mine and together we held the cup.

His fingers prodded my curved spine. “Drink. You’ll feel better.”

Shakily, I obeyed. Colton released my hand in favor of brushing away the dampness on my cheeks. My hands weren’t entirely steady, so I used them both to bring the cup to my mouth. The liquid went down easily, spreading warmth throughout my otherwise cold body.

After I drained the cup, I held it out to Colton. He took it, and I immediately curled up again on his lap. After our intimate rides, the shocking hardness of his chest and thighs no longer surprised me. My head tucked neatly against the ridge of his collarbone and I propped my bare feet along the inside of the armrest.