Free The Demon of Darkling Reach (The Black Prince Book 1) by P. J. Fox

Rowena looks a little more like the queen, is all.”
    This was, Isla considered, their first conversation as equals. Usually Isla was cast in the unlovely role of berating her father for his reckless spending or he, in turn, was venting his spleen on her by pretending the role of pater familias. A role that suited him not at all, and never had. But this…was almost like friendship. Too little, and too late, but there all the same. The realization made Isla sad.
    He’d mistaken her meaning, naturally. He imagined her to be expressing concern that the duke found Rowena more attractive. Isla was certain that the duke did—that all men did. Rowena
was
more attractive, with her curling blonde hair and cornflower blue eyes. In truth, Isla was surprised that the duke’s standards had proved to be so flexible. Surprised, and worried. Because she didn’t understand what benefit there was to him. Such an action seemed…uncharacteristically selfless, for lack of a better term. Isla imagined that, were she in Mountbatten’s position, she’d choose the lovelier of the two girls to sport with for however long he took to tire. She realized now, faced with the reality of her situation, that she’d never actually expected him to accept her proposal. Was astonished that he had—astonished, and unprepared.
    “I’ll expect you to be pleasant, of course,” said her father, attempting to reassert a bit of parental authority. “And to show the duke how pleased you are that he’s to be your husband,” he added with unintentional irony. How pleased, indeed, Isla thought dourly. She was sure that her father would
love
for her to show just how pleased she was. The ink wouldn’t have even had time to fully dry before the marriage contract was torn up.
    “Rowena can marry Rudolph?” she asked.
    The earl sighed, and ran a hand through his thinning hair. “I suppose she can, if the boy can bring himself to propose such an arrangement.” His eyes met hers and, in a moment of rare clarity and honesty, he spoke to her for the first and last time not as he might to his daughter—or any woman—but as he would to a fellow man. “Rudolph,” he said, “is what my own father would have referred to as
weak at the knees
. Oh,” he added, holding up a hand to forestall comment, “he’s good enough in his own way. I’m sure he writes a lovely poem.
    “But of the two of you, Isla, if you can manage to find your place in the duke’s household, you’ll be the happier. You—I, our retainers, the kingdom, everyone—needs a strong man. One who’s good at making decisions, not flowery epithets. New king or no new king, things aren’t about to get better. Rudolph is thrilling enough now, but what about during the next border raid? When the blue-painted barbarians are literally banging on the gates?” He shook his head slightly. “Mountbatten is a hard enough man, but he’ll never break a promise—for good or for ill. Stay on his good side, and you might just end up doing alright for yourself. But Rudolph…”
    Isla knew what he meant. Rudolph was a man of peace. Lettered and literate and judging by what Rowena had shown her a fair enough poet indeed. Isla liked to think that her father was wrong, that his opinions were the relics of a bygone age rather than the product of any specific logic. He wasn’t, after all, known for logic—either in terms of its employment or its results. And she liked to think that Rudolph had hidden depths. In any case, he was who Rowena wanted.
    A small smile played at the corners of her lips, one she barely realized was there. She’d done it. She’d really done it. She’d saved her sister. She’d won.

NINE

    H er thrill was short-lived. Leaving her father’s study, she came face to face with Mountbatten himself. Her father, standing behind her in the door, smiled broadly at his financial savior and invited him inside for a drink. “Come in and celebrate!” he said, a little more jovially than was