The Alpha Postponed Our Wedding, So I Married Another novel · Chapter 15 of 32

Chapter 15: A Wedding Supper

I opened my mouth.

Nothing came out of it.

Six years of people asking me what I wanted, and never once meaning it.

Now someone meant it, and I couldn't find the word.

"I don't know yet," I said.

It was the truest thing I'd said all night.

He didn't let go of me.

"Good," he said.

"Good?"

"Yes would be the stitches talking. No would be the fright." His thumb moved on my hip. "I don't want either of those. I'll wait for the real one."

"You'll wait."

"I'm a patient man."

"You're a terrible patient. Prue said."

The corner of his mouth went up, scar and all.

Then the infirmary door banged open and the princess came in with her coat over her nightdress, and I stepped back so fast I hit the lamp table.

She looked at Alaric's bandage.

She looked at my face.

She very kindly said nothing about either.

"Show me," she said.

I gave her the lambing ledger.

She read the shepherd's words in my handwriting by the lamp, with his sooty thumbprint at the bottom.

Her jaw went tight when she got to the envoy.

"He stays here," she said. "Under my roof and my name. Nobody touches him."

"And the envoy?"

"Rode down to the valley station an hour before dawn, my steward says. To wire the Council." She folded the ledger shut. "He'll have heard by now that his patrol came home with a broken wrist."

"Let him wire them," Alaric said from the table. "I'd like to read it."

"You'd like to lie down," said the princess. "Mrs. Kerne, take him to his tower before he bleeds on my floor."

Nobody in the sanctuary talked about anything else all day.

By breakfast, the ten knew that the Eastmarch Alpha had taken a silver knife meant for me.

By lunch, they knew I'd sewn him up.

By the middle of the afternoon, the Lakewood girl had worked out from the laundry that I'd come back in his shirt.

I spent the day in the annex with the door shut and my face hot.

At six, Prue came to get me.

"You're wanted in the hall," she said.

"Is something wrong?"

"Very wrong. Your hair." She was already pulling the pins out of my braid. "Sit."

"Prue."

"You married the man before breakfast and didn't let me do your hair. I've been owed this for six weeks."

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