"I hope you aren't injured," Afton said, standing uncertainly in front of her. She shook her head while secretly testing her foot under her skirts. Thankfully, the purposeful twisting hadn't hurt it beyond a slight ache.
"No, it was only a small tumble," she said, and then tilted her head to one side. "I am glad that it afforded me a chance to speak with you. It seems almost as if we've been missing each other ever since you arrived."
"Oh. Well, we received news that Revours has brought in a force of a thousand Quars, which is against the treaty the High Priest had us sign," Afton said. "So my father has been engrossed in reworking battle plans and sending off flurries of letters. I'm afraid that means I've been caught up in it as well, which doesn't lend itself to visiting with young ladies—no matter how charming they may be."
Brenna, forgetting for a moment that she was supposed to be alluring, leaned in a little. "Have you tried attack the Quar tundra across the White Bay? The deer migrate there, and if you can threaten the Quar's main food supply, the warriors will be forced to return home to help replenish the stores."
Afton blinked slowly, his eyebrows drawn down. He seemed to be thinking about it, which was another reason she knew he'd eventually come around to offering for her. She'd been studying his country since his last visit, and she had a variety of ideas on how to win the war.
"Father wouldn't like it," Afton finally said. "The White Bay is too shallow at this time of the year for the frigates to make it across. We'd have to split the troops into too many smaller ships, and Revours has made a deal with the Silent Sea pirates. It would cause too much trouble to make it worth it."
Brenna was about to remark that at least she had a plan and wasn't just locking herself into her room, but thought better of it before her tongue loosened. She merely pretended as if it didn't matter to her and shrugged. "At any rate, I think you need to take more breaks from your war," she said. "Ittal has many diversions that would ease your worries for a few hours."
"Yes, I don't doubt it," Afton replied. "Unfortunately, I don't have much a choice where my father is concerned."
"Posh! You're the future king of Anjeluund. Surely your father would allow you some leisure time on your visit to our country."
Afton laughed. "I assure you that tomorrow I will be there for the hunt, and I will be present for all the sights you wish to show me."
"Hurrah!" Brenna said.
Their conversation then took a turn for the more mundane, treading between the ballroom, the weather, and the new dances. Brenna wanted to be a bit more exciting, but whenever she moved the conversation to something flashy or a bit scandalous, Afton steered it back to calm waters. She began to grow impatient, her smile becoming more forced. He had absolutely no interest in anything interesting! For a young man that stood poised to rule a kingdom, he was remarkably quiet. Not a hint of a gossip.
Afton's eyes kept scanning the room as they spoke, and he began to subtly move backward. Brenna knew she was losing him, but couldn't figure out how to snatch his attention again. She quickly brought up horses, knowing that he enjoyed them... but too late. He seemed to catch sight of someone he knew, lifting a hand in greeting. He turned back to Brenna to briefly excuse himself, and she was suddenly left alone in between her two geriatric bookends.
Brenna allowed herself a few moments of sulking before setting her mind to planning up some way of engaging Afton again. She stared into nothing as her brain whirred, rejecting a fake summons as well as loosing one of the annoying little dogs on him. She'd just begun to whip up an elaborate ruse involving flirting with Robbin to perhaps draw Afton's notice, when her eyes unconsciously landed on her sister across the room. This wouldn't have been anything to draw her out of her reverie, except that in the seat Brenna herself had vacated now sat Afton.
A flash of anger burned in her chest. He lounged by Morna as if he were placed there by divine will, watching every move Morna made with rapt interest. He laughed and talked, drawing out a smile from Morna every so often. The sight of Brenna's sister's teeth seemed to have a cheering effect on Afton. Brenna grit her teeth and clenched two fistfuls of gown.
Trust Morna to get in the way. Brenna sighed in frustration and struggled to free herself from her tight seating. Once she popped free she stormed across the room and stopped by the door to the small library. It was a few yards down from where Morna and Afton chatted, and where Aunt Perta and Aunt Nora were too oblivious to notice. Brenna waved her hand sharply, snapping her fingers to try and draw the attention of her aunts. Unfortunately, the dogs saw her first and ran toward her with sharp yips and disgusting slobber. Brenna shoved them away with her foot and finally caught Aunt Perta's eye. She beckoned them over.
"I need him alone," she said as soon as they drew near.
"Not going so well?" Aunt Nora asked, bending to scoop up her dog. It stared at Brenna with dull eyes.
"He keeps getting distracted. If I can get him alone, I can... well, I can persuade him with charms that I can't exercise out here."
"My, my," Aunt Perta said, clucking her tongue in disapproval.
"It's a few kisses or eternal obscurity. Which would you prefer, Aunt?"
"Saucy today, aren't we?" Aunt Perta said, raising her eyebrows.
"Never mind," Aunt Nora cut in. "Do what you must, but try not to go too far. We don't need any messy scandals to scare him off."
"I won't," Brenna said. "Just get him into the library."
With that she ducked through the doorway and left the hubbub of the crowd. She was now surrounded by a slightly dingy room, on the smaller size, that once had been a place for her Great Uncle to duck out of state functions and relax. A fireplace lit the room from one end, and bookshelves covered all the walls right up to the door. A comfortable looking leather settee sat in the middle of the room. This Brenna walked to and sat on, arranging herself in a casual but enticing manner. She kicked her pumps off, making sure to leave them where he'd see them, and tucked her legs up onto the cushions. Her arm draped across the back of the settee, catching the light in a soft gleam. She untucked a few strands of hair and softened her expression. The picture of unguarded maidenhood.
Maybe he'd finally pay attention.
She had to wait nearly ten minutes before the door opened and Afton came into view. He was facing into the ballroom, his face confused. She caught sight of her aunts' arms pushing him forward, and their voices babbling about him getting a breather from such a strenuous dance. Brenna didn't have time to linger on the implication that he'd just been dancing with Morna, before Afton stumbled into the room and her aunt's closed the door firmly behind him.
When Afton noticed her he drew up short. "Oh. I'm sorry, I thought it was empty..." He made back for the door, but Brenna held out her hand.
"No, please don't leave on my account! I only wanted a moment to rest my feet. We can share the settee." She pulled her skirts aside, revealing the cap of her knee just barely. Afton slowly approached, taking her hand and letting her pull him down next to her.
"Doesn't it feel nice to finally sit?" she asked breathlessly. She closed her eyes and tilted her head upward. Afton shifted next to her.
"I suppose..."
"I'm... I'm glad you came in here, Afton," she said, opening her eyes again and ducking her head. She summoned up a blush from somewhere and cautiously stammered out, "I've grown quite fond of you."
Afton cleared his throat. "Um, thank you."
Brenna turned to face him, desperation written on her features. She clutched his hands, pulling them to her heart. His eyes widened in surprise. "Oh, Afton, surely you must feel it too?" she whispered. Afton stared at her, and she calculated it was either now or never. She tipped forward, her eyes fluttering shut, her lips soft and ready...
Right when she felt the heat of Afton's breath on her face, a booming slam ripped into the room. Brenna screamed and jerked backward while Afton surged to his feet. They both stared at the door where Robert Glenfarrow stood fuming.
"Out," he ordered Afton, and his son promptly obeyed. Not so much as glance over his shoulder. Brenna inwardly frowned.
Robert Glenfarrow stalked toward Brenna, snatching her wrist and yanking her to her feet before she could stop him. His face hovered just above hers, his skin reddening and his jaw tightened. "You think yourself so clever?" he asked, spitting out his words. "You think I haven't noticed your little schemes on my son?"
Brenna scowled and tried to yank herself free, but his grip was too firm. "Let me go, you brute," she yelled, digging in her fingernails to his forearm. He hissed and released her. He clutched his arm as blood beaded from half-moon indents.
"Afton is to marry a princess that can help legitimize our claim on the throne, not a ridiculous girl from some country that gave up its own right for a monarchy without a fight," he said. "He is the most important person in Anjeluund, and he won't be wasted on a nobody with no money, no name, and no influence. So you'll stop your crusade for my son's hand, before I stop it for you."
"How- How dare you insinuate-" Brenna began, but Robert Glenfarrow cut her off.
"We'll stay for the hunting party, but once the week is over we're heading back for Anjeluund with no plans to ever return to Ittal again." He stalked to the door, pulling it open sharply. Before he stepped out, he gave her one more glare over his shoulder. "Good evening, miss."
The door slammed shut and Brenna's anger fumed in her stomach like boiling oil. She grabbed a handful of her skirts and stuffed them against her mouth while she screamed until her throat went raw.