Talon the Black (Dragonwall Series # 1)

Chapter 56 - A Curious Past

Kastali Dun

Desaree collapsed into an armchair—the only armchair she owned—her head still reeling from the fight with Caterina. Surely she had stumbled into a strange dream where the most absurd possibilities had become reality. Any moment she might wake—any moment life would return to normalcy.

She sat, staring unblinkingly at her chamber's bare wall, she waited for that instant, but it did not come.

What would happen to Claire? She had acted irresponsibly, albeit courageously, in defense of her. Caterina might have taken many more liberties to harm her, had Claire not stepped in. Bad enough that she'd left several deep scratches on her skin. But what would it cost Claire?

And the man who was once her stepfather, Lord Stefan Rosen, esteemed lower council member and advisor to the king? What of him? She squeezed her eyes shut, thinking very hard on the affair. The mysterious pieces fit together perfectly. She was familiar with the rumors of his treason, but before today, she had struggled to believe them. He had been missing a fortnight from polite society—never seen during dinner in the great hall, unnoticed passing through the corridors with his lovely daughter dangling from his arm. Now she had no choice but to accept the news.

Stefan Rosen had betrayed the king—

A loud pounding at her door forced her to jump. She glared at it. "Desaree, are you in there?" Sarah's prompting followed. Her heart settled. She pursed her lips. "Desaree, I know you're there. What is the matter? Tess says you should be helping with dinner."

She cleared her throat. "I cannot come. I—I have taken ill."

"Have you truly?"

"Indeed. I should not be near the food. Tess will manage without me." She waited for several long breaths. Only after the silence stretched forward did she sigh, relaxing her shoulders. She pulled her legs up and encircled them in her arms. Scrunched together, she laid her chin upon her knees. Then she closed her eyes to think once more—

More knocking pulled her from her reverie. "I told you!" she shouted. "I have taken ill!" Frustration heated her cheeks.

She was never so uncivil. Gods! What had gotten into her?

"Desaree? Is that you in there?"

She sprang from her seat, gasping. She backed against the farthest corner of the room. Heat sizzled across her skin. "Lord...Lord Verath?" Her voice was little more than a squeak.

"May I come in?"

"Oh, gods!" she whispered. She glanced about her chamber. Nothing was in disarray. Yet this was her private place. Lord Verath should not be here.

"Please," he added.

She crept to her door and opened it a crack. There he stood, breathing heavily as if he'd run the distance to her room.

"Gods above," he swore. His fingers grasped the door's edge and he pushed it open. "Did she do that to you?"

"Uhm...who?"

"Caterina! Gods, woman! Who in Asjaa's name do you think?" Grabbing her hand, he guided her back to her recently vacated chair and pushed her gently into the seat.

She watched him with wide eyes. "What has gotten into you, Lord Verath?"

"You are hurt," he snapped. "That is what."

She sighed. "It is nothing more than scratches and wounded pride. There is no need to be so riled."

He scowled, taking further liberties with her. His fingers ran down the scabbing nail marks, trailing along her neck until he was forced to stop at her neckline. Her skin heated beneath his touch. Shivers ran down her back. For a male as strong as he, the gentleness was unexpected. She was forced to turn her face away, if only to hide her thoughts. This was too much—today had been too much.