‘His Lordship always compliments you when you wear the sapphire earrings,’ Gwenore said, stepping back to admire her work.

‘Because they were a gift from him.’ He complimented her so she was forced to express her gratitude over and over again. She glanced at the window to gauge the time. ‘Where is Everard?’

‘Likely with His Lordship.’

She resented how much time they spent together. Every ride, every sparring match, every game of chess, every conversation they shared while shooting at the butts felt like another claw in her.

‘Shall we?’ Gwenore asked, heading for the door.

Isabel had no choice but to follow her.

It was a far more social affair than the evening prior. Many noble families used Hampstead Keep as a safe stopover when travelling through the region. Isabel’s gaze swept over the rows of people seated at the long tables, searching.

But searching for whom?

Her eyes paused on Blackmane, who was standing at the back of the room talking to Hadewaye. His muscled arms were crossed, his stance wide. Inky hair fell forwards in a tousled mess. His dark eyes and black leather uniform only added to his lethal appeal—if there was such a thing.

‘Are we entering, or are we simply going to stand at the door all night?’ Gwenore asked.

Isabel’s cheeks flushed. She had forgotten her mother was beside her, and she knew how ridiculous she must have looked standing there gaping at the defenders. Not all the defenders, however.

Stepping into the room, she snuck another glance at Blackmane, who appeared oblivious to her presence. Probably a good thing. It was better to focus on the man she would soon marry. He was definitely looking at her, eyes raking her up and down—making her want to turn around and leave.

She kept her focus on him from that point. The last thing she needed was him catching her looking at another man. Lord Hodge settled for nothing less than her undivided attention. He needed a lot of it, all the time, and for whatever reason, he had chosen her for the role. So she would either need to find it within her or fake it convincingly for the rest of her life. The problem was, the more he demanded, the further out of reach it felt.

Hodge rose from his seat when she approached, and she made an effort to smile. He waited for the women to take their seats—so chivalric—then dragged his chair closer to Isabel’s so he could hold her hand.

‘Those earrings look absolutely beautiful on you.’

He was so predictable.

‘You have exquisite taste, my lord.’ She gave her mother a look, but she pretended not to see it.

The room grew louder as the evening progressed. And when the music began, it got louder still.

‘Will you come dance with me, sister?’ Everard asked, offering his hand.

Anything to free herself from Hodge. Of course, she needed his permission before leaving his side.

He nodded his consent, and Isabel fled the table, making her way into the middle of the room where other guests were already dancing. If anyone else had asked her, his hand would have tightened around hers, and she would have smiled and said to them, ‘That is such a kind offer, my lord, but I am afraid I am rather tired.’ And only when that person was far away would Hodge’s grip ease. Then after, she would return to her quarters, open the windows wide, and watch the sky, imagining all the sights Margery was seeing while flying free outside the walls.