Masters of the Game (Sutherland Book 4)

XXVII | Summer

"I know understand why we have to do this," Prince Emory said, staring straight into West's eyes. Sasha sat quietly in one corner of the room where a woman should be during conversations between men.

"I do," said West with a smile. His leg was crossed over the other, both arms resting on his chair. The prince mirrored him, smiling equally.

"My aunt is quite adamant about getting her daughter back."

"Of course," West said. "As we are about getting both Royals back."

"Fret not, they are in safe hands." Prince Emory threw Sasha a glance, then just as quickly ignored her presence.

"You did not have to resort to this," West said. "We would have gladly handed Gabrielle Shaw."

"It was not my idea," Emory said, but Sasha did not believe him. The prince was wise. But he was also desperate. A man clinging on to his father's power so he could one day have it. He wanted to show the Circus what he could do. However, it was not clear how much control the queen had over him.

"We're hoping for a pleasant exchange," said West, standing to his feet. The prince did the same. West bowed.

Emory noted the reluctant bow and chuckled, shaking his head. "I would hate to be your enemy when the time comes, Blackwood."

"I fear the same, Your Highness."

With his impending departure, the prince's stiff posture loosened. He took a deep breath and let out a long breath. "Is there a chance that you will surrender Reginald?"

West smiled. "Is there a chance your father will step down?"

At this, Emory laughed loudly. "There is, but you and I both know the power is not with him. It's on the other side of the family."

"We understand."

"I hope Leo will someday be gracious enough and join us. I would love to meet him."

"He's currently occupied."

"A pity," Emory said, clucking his tongue. "I heard he wants to marry my sister."

"It's a joke to spite his father."

"A joke I would consider," Emory replied. "Perhaps what we need is a union."

Sasha stood as the two men walked to the doors.

"Congratulations on your child," said Emory. "I heard you have an heir."

"We do, yes," West said.

"Good for you. Keep him well, Blackwood."

"Is that a threat?"

"Depends on how you see it." Emory stopped at the threshold of the doorway. His guards, all five of them, were outside. "Please deliver Gabrielle Shaw safe and sound and you shall have your Royals back."

The moment Emory left, Sasha approached her husband, and they both walked out the doors to the garden. He took her hand as they strolled down the familiar path walk.

"I know you don't want to give up on Gabrielle," he said, kissing the back of her hand. "But I agree with Darcy."

"That Gabrielle is a useless piece?"

He chuckled. "I would not put it that way, but Darcy's argument makes sense."

"Better to give up one useless piece for the two we can use—of course, her argument is sound," she said with a shake of her head. "What did Shaw think?"

"He's still hoping his sister will make the right choice. Otherwise, he knows that his family will take care of his sister better than they would Worthington and Berthon."