Still Kin

The young nobleman was tall, with broad shoulders and golden brown hair that curled up at his collar, framing a handsome, finely featured face. His smile was a beautiful flash of ivory teeth.

"Who is that man? I don't remember seeing him around court before." Celia hoped her voice sounded light and uninterested.

"Lord Lucas Nadrim. He's been in the city of Prior for the last year or so, negotiating on Father's behalf with the Biscayan merchant guilds. That'll be why you don't recognise him." Sarai murmured with a wistful little smile. "I'd forgotten what a handsome devil he is! Such a shame he's kin, albeit of bastard stock. Nevertheless, still kin."

"What are you saying?" Celia was surprised. "Is he…is that man is related to you? How?"

"Lucas's father is Viscount Antony Nadrim, who also happens to be a bastard son of my own father. So I guess if you described Lucas as my half-nephew, you wouldn't be wrong. Even though we're of similar age." Sarai said wryly. "Such a pity, really."

"Your father openly acknowledges his bastards? Is that common practice here?" Celia was well aware that most men in the aristocracy sired bastard children at some point in their lives. In Islia though, they were very rarely acknowledged publicly.

They definitely weren't also granted noble titles in their own right.

"Not common practice but…Antony is much older than my full siblings and me. He was born when Father was still young, well before he was wed to Mother." Sarai explained. "For a great many years, Antony was the king's only living son, actually."

"So that made King Aron rather tender hearted with him?"

"My father? Tender hearted? What a ridiculous notion." Sarai snorted. "But it turned out that apart from from his bloodline, Antony was very clever. He was also blessed with, shall we say, rather flexible morals. Because of all that, Father saw the potential of putting him to work for the Crown of Havietten."

"What kind of work was he given to do?"

"He's been sent as an ambassador to various foreign courts. And over the years, he's managed to charm almost all the crowned heads. Of course, a king can't just send his untitled bastard to another court and expect him to be accepted by their nobility. So Father granted Antony the title of viscount."

"Your mother didn't object to the honour?" Celia wasn't aware of her own father having any bastard children. But she knew if he'd ever tried to raise one to the nobility and her mother had found out, Prince Leo would've had strips of flesh torn off his frame by a furious wife.

"No, the opposite was true. Mother was very glad to see Antony sent far away." Sarai waved a servant over for more wine. "She'd resented having him around as a living reminder that she'd given the king no sons of her own. By the time Tobin was born, Antony had been away for years. I believe he served in the Islian court for quite a while."

Celia nodded, realising why the young man before her looked vaguely familiar. She'd never paid much attention to all the foreign diplomats who resided at her grandfather's court, but she could still remember Lucas's father. Viscount Nadrim had been very popular - a tall, dashing man with the same shade of golden brown hair.

Well, the viscount's son is very handsome as well, and all that. But I can't just sit here gawping like some vapid fool, Celia warned herself. I need to show at least a scrap of dignity, don't I?

She was about to force herself to look at anything else besides the striking young man, when he suddenly turned his gaze in their direction.

Sarai raised her hand in greeting and gave him what looked like a genuine smile. Lord Lucas smiled back and bowed deeply to both royal ladies.

Determined to avoid trouble, especially by associating with someone that was clearly Tobin's friend, Celia tried to give him the most aloof nod she could muster.

Instead, she felt herself starting to blush. Really, really blush, much to her dismay.

She quickly looked down at her hands folded in her lap but her face continued to burn alarmingly hot. Sarai spoke again but Celia could barely make out the words.

All she could hear was her racing heartbeat thumping in her ears.

She risked another look up from her lap, only to find the man still watching her. She felt herself freeze when their gazes locked.

He smiled wider, clearly amused by how flustered she was.

Ugh, Celia thought. Where was a shouted toast or a loud thunderclap echoing through the room, just when you needed one?

What was wrong with her? She was a married woman, before a court that already mistrusted her. She knew she was better off plucking her own eyes out instead of being caught ogling another man.

And a man who seemed to get along so well with her husband, no less. That immediately told her everything she needed to know about him. Celia had no love for Tobin's circle of friends. They were nothing but a spoiled, disrespectful sycophants that mindlessly agreed with his every whim, no matter how thoughtless or plain stupid.

The viscount's son would be no better than that. Just another callous nobleman.

So why was she almost squirming in her seat like a giddy child, just because he'd smiled at her?

It wasn't as if Celia had never crossed paths with an attractive man before, either. She'd seen many fine looking gentlemen while growing up, both within her kin and also within the Islian court. Hell, the Devon family line was well known for producing handsome men.

Yet there she sat with excitement pulsing in her chest, torn between wanting to hide her face and openly staring, just to see if Lord Nadrim would smile again.

She risked one more glance.

The handsome devil winked at her and Celia almost slid out out of her gilded chair.

Dammit. Why did he have to be a friend of her husband's?