The Palace (Chateau 4)

She drank her coffee again. Took a few bites. Looked out to the gardens of perfectly manicured rosebushes and trees. She looked like she belonged here, like she was born here, like this was her fate.

Her mood was cold, like she didn’t want to spend her morning with me but wasn’t angry enough to ask me to leave.

Or maybe she just knew it was pointless to try.

I ate everything on my plate then had a few pieces of fruit. Sips of coffee happened in between. My fingers rubbed the scruff along my jaw as I repeatedly took in her appearance. My morning should be spent in the gym, but all I wanted to do was see her right away. “I thought we were past this.”

She turned her chin to look at me, her blue eyes turning a bit sharp. “You called my sister a swine. No, we aren’t past this.”

“We seemed to be fine last night…” I gave her a slight smile. All she’d had to do was tell me to stop, and it would have been over. But she didn’t. Not once. She got on top of me and bounced on my dick while I gripped her tits.

Her eyes sharpened even further to points of daggers. “It’s not funny.”

“Didn’t laugh. I gloated.”

She rolled her eyes and looked away. “I don’t understand how you can say you love me and then talk about someone I love that way. How would you feel if I said Magnus was hideous?”

“I’ve always been the better-looking one. No surprise there.”

“What if I said I hated him—”

“I hate him most of the time too.”

She shook her head, releasing a sigh of irritation.

I’d done worse things, so I didn’t understand why she was so hung up on this. They were just words. Insults. Nothing more. “Chérie.”

She slowly turned back to me.

“Tell me.”

She brought her mug closer then looked down into the fair liquid, coffee loaded with cream and sugar. “I know it bothers her…”

My arms rested on the armrests, and my hands came together over my lap, just listening.

“She’d like a boy, but the boy would like me. We’d go out as adults, and if there were two guys, they would fight over me instead of one pairing up with her. She was seeing this guy for a while, and when she introduced him to me, it got weird…and he’d hit on me when she wasn’t around.”

No surprise there.

“I think that’s another reason she ran away from me…so she could stop being compared to me. It made me really angry, but I can’t really blame her anymore. I’ve caused her nothing but grief since our mom died.”

“I disagree. The only reason she’s alive is because of you.”

“That’s all I’ve ever done for her.” She grabbed her spoon and stirred her coffee, still looking down into the liquid. “Magnus isn’t like that. I can tell when men are attracted to me, and he’s not.”

Maybe he’d told me the truth. Maybe Raven wasn’t his second choice after all.

“That’s why I love him for my sister…along with other reasons.” She tapped her spoon against the edge to get rid of the drops before she set it back on the linen. “She deserves to have a man who looks at her the way you look at me. Every woman deserves that. And maybe I’m more classically pretty, but she is more than I ever will be.”

“Such as?”

She shrugged. “Smart. Independent. Ambitious. Brave. Compassionate. Full of integrity. Kind…” She drew a deep breath then slowly released it. “All I have is my looks…nothing more.”

My heart started to increase in pace—because that actually pained me. “She compares herself to you. But you compare yourself to her too. Makes you both miserable.”

She lifted her chin and looked at me.

“I wish you saw yourself the way I see you. Because I disagree with everything you just said.”

She dropped her gaze and dismissed me.

“I know you killed my executioner.”

Her eyes lifted to mine instantly, all the features of her face tightening at the accusation.

“Yes, I know everything, chérie.” I knew everything she’d done in that camp when she’d helped burn it down. “Don’t sit there and tell me you aren’t brave. A woman doesn’t go into a blizzard with her sister, expecting to die, if she isn’t brave. A woman doesn’t love a man like me if she isn’t brave. You’re the bravest person I’ve ever met.”

She was still, emotion moving into her eyes.

“You’re the compassionate one. She is not.” I shook my head. “Magnus is as guilty as I am, but you understand her feelings—because you’ve gone through the same thing. You love me even when you shouldn’t, and she gives you no compassion for that. I don’t expect her to ever understand me, even if Magnus tells her what happened to the two of us when we were just boys, but I expect her to understand her sister.”