Tragic King (The Dominant Bastard Duology 2) - Page 1

Chapter One

How had he not recognized his own eyes looking back at him?

Severin studied his brother – a younger version of himself he hadn’t known existed – and tried to decide whether to give in to the urge to slam the door in his face. He’d wanted to speak to him, or thought he should, but Loïc showing up on his doorstep unannounced was more than a little presumptuous.

It was hard to remember that his childhood exile had nothing to do with this boy. He hadn’t even been born when Severin had been sent away.

Looking at Loïc was like looking at a more civilized version of himself. Loic was well groomed, almost as tall as Severin, with no visible tattoos or piercings, and his politely muscled frame was expensively dressed. Altogether, he gave the impression of being a man famous for his wealth – like someone whose finances Rodrigo would manage.

Money, power, self-possession. However, a hint of madness lurked in Loïc’s pale blue gaze.

Severin wanted to ask him to wait on the front steps so he could confer in private with Minnow and Rodrigo, but this wasn’t the type of moment he’d get to do over. Restraining his usual urge to be a prick, he stepped back, gesturing him in.

“You caught us off guard. We’re not used to visitors.”

Loïc gave him a dazzling smile then moved past him into the foyer. He nodded politely to Minnow and Rodrigo then craned his head, taking in the huge formal foyer with the domed skylight.

The dogs had fallen strangely silent, and were gathered near Minnow’s bare feet.

“As banishment estates go, this one is well appointed,” Loïc observed, sounding relieved. “I’d always imagined you living in an institution for some reason.”

“The family discusses him openly?” Rodrigo’s expression was murderous.

Severin threw Ro a look to shut him the hell up. His loyalty was appreciated, but this kid didn’t deserve the weight of what had happened settled on his shoulders. Severin had already been sent away before he was born.

“Our siblings and I talked about him openly, but only amongst ourselves. He was like a ghost story we’d tell if we had half a chance. Martine wouldn’t speak of him, though. But forgive me...you are?” Loïc asked Rodrigo, extending a hand. He hadn’t tried to shake Severin’s hand, which had been a relief. Just how much did Loïc know about him?

“Rodrigo Solis. I’m the one who sent you the message.”

They shook hands and Severin suddenly felt like a child at a meeting of adults. He couldn’t think of anything to say and wanted to take Minnow and the dogs upstairs and get away from this scene. Could he go out to the forge and forget this was happening?

Loïc’s gaze seemed to take in Rodrigo’s state of dishevelment. His brows rose. “Well then, I’m in your debt for letting me know my brother wanted to meet with me.” They turned to Minnow.

“This is Minnow Korsgaard,” Rodrigo said formally, “Your brother’s fiancée.”

Loïc lifted her hand to his mouth, kissing over it, his gaze lingering on her face for long moments, then on her collar. “Enchanté, mademoiselle.”

Charming. The fucker was charming – and probably a hell of a lot closer to Minnow’s age too. He didn’t like this kid coming into his space and touching his people.

His woman drew away her hand, her smile neutral. She didn’t seem at all charmed, but maybe that was wishful thinking.

“Mister Leduc, why don’t you bring your brother to your study, and I’ll arrange for refreshments,” Minnow suggested.

He glanced at her sharply, not wanting her to leave his side.

Rodrigo put a hand to her shoulder and coaxed her toward Severin. “I just made coffee. I’ll get some tea too. I’m sure Severin will want you there.”

They both looked at Severin. He held out his hand to Minnow, and she moved to him, twining her delicate fingers with his.

They led Loïc through to the study. The puppies followed behind them, a strangely subdued trail of fur, as if they could sense the tension.

Severin took a seat on the couch, pulling Minnow down beside him. He gestured Loïc to the chair opposite the one Rodrigo usually chose. His brother sat, leaning back in the leather club chair with an ease and class that Severin envied. Compared to his brother, he felt huge and coarse.

“So in your letter you said that our mother is dead.”

“Yes, Martine is dead.”

“What happened?”

“A house fell on her.”

Severin blinked at him, not sure how to respond.

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