Brycen

The carriage pulls up in front of Wemberly, my family's famed estate. I quickly inform the footmen of the crate that requires to be brought up to my room immediately, demanding their discretion.

My mother was furious when I told her I wouldn't be there to welcome our guests, my cousins and uncles. All of whom had to be at court to for the hearing. Now when she sees me coming, she'll insist I join them for dinner.

"Brycen dear, we're so glad you could join us for dinner." My mother says, catching me as I pass through the hall.

"Err, yes mother. My meeting ended early. However, I will need to change first."

"Of course, we'll wait for you in the drawing room. Dinner's not for a few more minutes, so hurry."

I force a smile and hurry up to my rooms where I have the footmen drop off the crate in my bedchamber. The crate was insufferably heavy so I drag it into the only place I can manage and have my valet brought in so I can change for dinner.

Despite the fact that I managed to get out of the Rosenberg estate without raising suspicion, I haven't been able to stop fidgeting since the moment I left the estate. I checked over and over again on my way back to ensure I wasn't followed. Thank god Weylan wasn't around to see me off, the man could smell blood in water from a mile away and Jordyn was probably to jumbled in her own mix of emotions to detect anything suspicious about my departure.

If I ever want to be her friend again, I've certainly just made it much harder for myself. But I can't think of that now. I want to know what Weylan's up to. I know he had been secretly corresponding with an envoy of the Mazzenik King for weeks now which means his plans are quite obvious. The Rosenbergs have royal blood which means they have a rightful claim to the throne should King Damien's line fail.

If King Isaiah of Mazzenik was already planning an attack on Durrac, it was only a matter of time before he came for us next and through whatever agreement Weylan had with him, it was possible The king Isaiah would prop up his rule if he contributed to the downfall of King Damien's line.

It was a good plan, truly. But I would like to know if I was betting on a lame horse. If Weylan truly was planning on usurping the throne, I wanted in. I will not be left high and dry for backing the wrong king.

And if Weylan or Terence were to become king, I want a place of honor and power, the king's seneschal perhaps.

Once I'm dressed I join the others for dinner, praying it would end soon. There was still an unease that followed me, like leaving a gold ring unattended to on a tavern table and hoping no one steals it.

The dinner drags on and on and I do my best to entertain our guests so to not seem distracted. Across from me, my cousin sits with his fiancé, lady Marie. She is beautiful I think to myself. High cheekbones, pale gold hair and a dress that revealed far too much for an engaged woman. Jordyn would never wear something so revealing. She always dressed modestly but tastefully, accentuating her generous curves and wearing colours that made her skin glow. But why was I comparing them?

My valet brings me a letter midway through dinner just as I requested him to, so I can excuse myself, claiming to have urgent business that requires my immediate attention.My mother is about to object when my uncle cuts in.

"You certainely have taken well to the trade Brycen, Lord Torre must be relieved to have such a capable young man."

"Oh he is more than capable, has a knack for business that even amazes me" My father says proudly.

"He spends much of his time with that Rosenberg boy, perhaps some of him a worn off on my Brycen" My mother chimes in. "Such a delight that one and yet so different from his brother, Lord Terence."

"Ahh yes, what a shame the dukedom will not be passed to him instead of Lord Terence" Father goes on.

I bow and leave making my apologies to our guests.

I reach my rooms but something feels rather strange and eery. I burst into my closet relieved when I find the crate is just as I left it, all but for a tiny iron pin missing from the lock. That's when I realize I'm not alone in my rooms.

Quietly, I pick up the crossbow I keep near my bed, surveying the closet and then my room. Nothing seems to be out of place or maybe whoever was in here just knew exactly where to look.

I leave my bedchamber to scan the game room when I hear a click and the main doors to my suite swing open.

I charge for the exit chasing after the heavily hooded figure racing out and down the stairs towards the servants quarters. The figure eludes me as he passes the servants quarters and before I know it, is out the gate. I resume my chase when I spot him again but too late, he has mounted a horse and is riding hard but just as the figure pivots for the forest, I catch a glimpse of his dark brown skin and too thin arm when I realise it is not a him at all, but a slave woman.

Aiming for her side, I fire an arrow, missing, but slicing past her arm. She yelps but never slows as blood leaks to her cloak as she heads through the forest. I race for my horse and charge after her.