The Purloined Prophecy by Morgan G Farris

Author:Morgan G Farris [Farris, Morgan G]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780692100363
Publisher: Minor 5 Publishing

Chapter Thirty-Eight

What are you doing here?” Delaney asked as she opened the door to her chambers. Her foyer was dark, the sun having already set for the night, and the few candles that peppered the room did little to provide light.

Michael let himself in anyway. “What are you doing here?” he parroted to the duchess, her auburn brows furrowing as she stepped back to let him in.

“What do you mean?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be at the dinner?” he asked, his back to her as he took in her sitting room. The quietness of it. The dark, looming despondence that shadowed every untouched pillow, every wilted flower petal in every dry vase. Obviously, Delaney had stopped caring about actually living here, for this wasn’t the cheery place as she usually insisted. No, this place was more like…like a prison. Michael turned to face her again. But she wasn’t looking at him, too busy fidgeting with her fingers.

“The queen is expecting you,” he tried again.

“Yes, well, I have absolutely no desire to be paraded about, thank you very much.”

She brushed past him, not bothering to look at him as she made her way to her settee and plopped down, picking up an open book from where it had been sitting facedown on the tea table.

“This dinner is in your honor, you know,” he reminded her, wondering why he was trying to convince her to go. He certainly wouldn’t want to either. Not if he were in her position. Still though, she had holed herself up in here so much lately…

“Yes. A dinner to honor the mother of the heir. The betrothed of the prince.” She made a guttural sound, huffing as she slammed her book shut and dropped it to the table again before crossing her arms. “It’s all a farce, and one which I have no interest in.”

“Not even for a chance to see your father fawned over? Not even for a chance to have your hand kissed by every prattling courtier from here to Teman?” he teased as he sat down beside her, nudging her with his elbow.

A hint of a smile ghosted her lips. Still, she did not look at him when she said, “Not even for that. Turns out the regular ailments of pregnancy are a valid excuse for just about anything you don’t want to do.”

He wondered if that included having a life.

Then again, he wasn’t exactly a glistening jewel of social prowess either. Amos’s chastisement echoed in his head.

One of these days, Michael, you’re going to have to pull that stick out of your ass and get yourself a life.

Get himself a life, indeed.

But one look at Delaney sitting beside him—at the quiet worry that ate away at her—and Michael abruptly stood to his feet, marching across the dismal room to the door that separated it from Delaney’s bedchamber.

“What are you doing?” she barked, following after him.

He didn’t bother to answer as he pushed through her bedchamber door, marching across her room to her closet on the other side.

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