Traitor: Tales of the Mystics, Book Two by Laurie Lucking

Author:Laurie Lucking [Lucking, Laurie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Love2ReadLove2Write Publishing, LLC

My tumultuous mind couldn’t keep up with Sophia’s jumble of thoughts regarding her upcoming marriage. She was engaged. My little sister.

I could just imagine how she must be drifting through the halls, squealing with every aristocrat and servant who’d humor her excited ramblings.

And I wasn’t there. I was missing all of it.

A tear coursed to my chin before I realized it’d fallen.

Setting the letter aside, I fumbled for my handkerchief. It wasn’t as though the news came as a surprise—Sophia had spoken of little else for months before my departure.

But that her life could take such a significant turn, completely without me . . .

My door thudded with a soft rap.

“Come in.” The instinctive reply left my lips before I gave it conscious thought. I swallowed and swiped at my eyes, trying to erase evidence of tears.

Vander nudged the door open just wide enough to step inside. “Good afternoon, Penelope. I hoped you might—” His words cut off the same instant his formal demeanor softened to concern. “Something upsets you.”

Smoothing my skirt, I made a pathetic attempt at shaking my head.

He hurried to my side, glancing to the abandoned letter on the adjoining cushion. “Your family—someone is unwell?”

“No, everyone is quite well. There’s no cause for concern.”

His narrowed eyes remained fixed on my face.

I blew out a breath. “It is a letter from my family, but it contains good news. My sister is to be married.”

“Ah.” His heavy brows raised a notch. “But you do not approve the match.” His gaze moved to the ground. “Or perhaps is to a gentleman you would rather—”

“No, nothing like that.” I hurriedly folded the letter and replaced it in the envelope, my fingers unsteady. “I’m very happy for her. It will be a good match and a strong alliance for our country. It’s only that I—I’m not there.”

“Of course.” He perched on the spot vacated by the letter. “A moment of such importance for one you love, and you cannot share it with her.”

“Yes.” I sniffled as a new round of tears threatened.

He squeezed my arm. My instinct was to recoil, but the touch was so gentle, so comforting—without a hint of romance or expectation—I posed no objection.

I stifled a hiccup. “I’m sorry. It’s not that I’m unhappy to be here, it’s just—”

“It is natural for you to miss family. I would think the less of you if you did not.” His hand tightened, then let go. “Does she say when wedding shall be held?”

I blinked, curling my fingers around my handkerchief. “I don’t believe a date has been set. She mentioned something about spring, but not until next year.”

My mind seemed to be trudging uphill against a foot of snow in its struggle to recall any details.

“Then perhaps we might attend.”

My head snapped toward him. “What?”

He reddened at the sudden attention. “I believe our wedding will take place before so much time has passed. And what better time to plan a visit?”

The prospect of our marriage didn’t make me shudder the way it usually did in light of this prospect of home.

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