Rache almost choked on the bread.
Donncahd?
Concerned?
She'd seen the look on his face the night before. It wasn't concern. It was cold, hard fury. A burning, all-consuming rage that was focused, not on her, but on whoever had dared to challenge his authority.
He wasn't protecting her.
He was protecting what was, in the eyes of the world, his property.
A property he had very specific plans for. Or rather, very specific plans for her death.
"Is that so?" Rache managed to say, her voice a hoarse whisper. She was not about to discuss the matter with Fiadh. She couldn't risk saying the wrong thing, couldn't risk the maid repeating her words to Donncahd.
"Oh, yes," Fiadh continued, oblivious to Rache's inner turmoil. "He was absolutely livid. Not at you, of course," she added quickly, as if Rache might have doubted it. "But at the audacity of it. To attack a princess in the heart of Sidera... it's a declaration of war."
A declaration of war.
