Free WinterofThorns by Charlotte Boyett-Compo Page A

you had taken from him, you usually broke it
before you did so. You can be a very spiteful boy, Vindan.”
    His gaze fell to hers.
    “Tell me, Vindan. Did you enjoy breaking
his lady-wife as you did his toys all those years ago?”
    He stiffened, his hand leaving the chain.
“That isn’t what happened.”
    “No?” she asked gently. “Did you not break
her just a little bit, Vindan?”
    “I did the lady no harm. I was very gentle
with her.”
    “I am sure you were but that isn’t the
point, is it?” she questioned. “A crystal vase is broken no matter how gently
it is thrown to the carpet. Once broken, it cannot be made whole as it once
was.”
    All congeniality vanished from his face.
“He defied me,” he snapped.
    “And you hurt him very badly in response,”
she said. “You broke his heart. You humiliated him.”
    “Better that than being publicly whipped
like a gods-be-damned dog!” he stated.
    “Language,” she replied calmly.
    He cast his eyes down. “Beg pardon,” he
murmured.
    She slid over to the far side of the swing
then patted the empty space beside her. “Sit, Vindan.”
    “Woof,” he responded with a quirk of his
lips.
    “Good boy,” she said and patted his sleek
dark hair. It was a banter they’d shared many times over the years and it broke
the heat of the previous moment. She reached for his hand and he took hers.
    The loud skirl of a passing peacock drew
their attention and they watched the bird strutting about for several minutes.
    “How is he?” he asked after a while.
    “Damaged. As is the friendship the two of
you have shared all these years. The question is, can that friendship be
repaired?”
    “I told him I would not annul the
marriage,” he said.
    “For that, I am sure he is grateful. I—on
the other hand—will reserve judgment on whether or not I think an annulment
would benefit my son.”
    He turned his head toward her. “You think
her unworthy of him?”
    “Is she?”
    “Not in the least. She is as beautiful as a
day in spring. She is intelligent, kind.” A smile traced over his lips. “Her
laughter could bring the birds down from the—” He stopped for Millicent was
looking at him with raised brows. “Aye, she’s worthy of him.”
    “And of you, it would seem,” she said,
eyebrows lowering. “Has there been more contact between the two of you, Vindan,
than on her Joining night?”
    “Good gods, no!” His face turned a most
unbecoming shade of red. “I have maintained perfect propriety where Jana is
concerned.”
    “Jana,” she repeated, her attention riveted
on him. “Not Lady Jana nor Lady Montyne but simply Jana.”
    “She is his wife. In my mind nothing has changed
in our friendship so naturally I consider the woman he chose as his mate to be
my friend, as well.”
    “But is she your friend or perhaps
something more?” Millicent inquired. “Does she harbor ill-will toward you for
what was done or was she pleased by the outcome of that night?”
    He narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”
    “You are a prince. Seyzon, a mere baron.
Perhaps the lady in question aspires to a higher rank.”
    “No, she does not,” he stated. “She loves
Seyzon and she misses him. She has no interest in me whatsoever! She is polite
but she avoids me as much as she can.”
    “And that pricks like a thorn under your
fingernail, doesn’t it?” she asked softly. “It hurts even worse.”
    “This conversation has run its course,” he
said, getting up from the swing. He held his arm out to her. “Milady?”
    Millicent looked up at him for a long
moment then allowed him to assist her to her feet. She walked in silence beside
him back to the keep. Once there, he dropped his arm.
    “I have business matters to which I must
attend, milady,” he told her.
    She inclined her head. “Of course, Your
Grace.” She curtsied deeply, her head lowered.
    He bowed to her and started to walk away.
    “Your Grace?” she called after him but he
didn’t turn around