Sonia Arlington needed to be courted. As a human, she’d expect it.
But being all she was, she deserved it.
It took Ryon a while to talk Cal around most especially since his father’s death Cal had been reading the reports on her as well as getting the pictures. And, because of this, not to mention the simple fact that she was his mate, Cal was growing impatient.
Very impatient.
But, apparently, Cal’s hand had been forced and the treaty broken.
This meant war.
Desdemona’s head jerked toward the door. She sensed it too.
“Impossible, Mona?” Ryon asked quietly and he watched as she slowly turned to face him, her throat moving convulsively.
Yes, Mona, you… are… fucked, Ryon thought as he rose from the throne and stepped to its right side.
The next second, Cal came through the door.
Ryon felt his jaw get tight again upon seeing Sonia, wrapped in a blanket, held unconscious in Cal’s arms.
The guard and Desdemona, without delay, dropped to their knee, forward on their hand but, in the presence of their king, they bowed their heads toward the floor.
Ryon didn’t drop to his knee.
He was not only a duke. He was not only Cal’s cousin. He was not only born precisely one year after Cal (to the very hour, a significant happenstance in the brotherhood). But his blood had mingled with Cal’s on too many battlefields for Ryon to take a knee.
He’d done it once, after the king had fallen.
Cal had forbidden him ever to do it again.
Without looking at anyone but Ryon, Cal made his way to the throne.
Ryon felt a muscle jump in his jaw at the look of fury on his cousin’s face.
Cal sat on the throne, gently arranging Sonia in his lap so she was close, her forehead tucked into his neck, her hand resting on his chest, her knees cocked and tucked into his side. His arms, finally, settled protectively around her.
Ryon had seen her many times since that night her mother and father were murdered. She was a pretty child.
She was a f**king amazing woman. If she wasn’t destined queen, Ryon would have taken her to his bed.
And kept her there.
Until the day she died.
Cal was a lucky bastard.
“Rise,” Cal ordered, his voice an angry rumble.
Desdemona rose slowly, her eyes carefully not looking at Sonia but also not looking at Cal.
Ryon didn’t have time for Mona.
“Is she okay?” he asked his cousin, his eyes on Sonia.
“Ellington threw her across the room. She cracked her head, went unconscious. She was coming to but I sedated her for the drive to the cabin,” Cal replied, his eyes never leaving Mona.
Ryon’s eyes never left Sonia but his hands clenched into fists.