As Braydon walked up to the main door of the great hall, he could hear the conversation inside. Not because the door was ajar, he would still not hear small conversation from outside, but one whiny voice was piercing enough that he couldn’t miss it.
“It has been several hours now, my love. Where is this Viscount that has kept you hostage for all these months? If he is treating me this rudely, I hate you thinking how much you have suffered.” There could only be one person who would say something like that in the castle. Braydon would not stand for it. He immediately entered the room to rebut the insolent man but was dumbfounded about quite how poorly behaved he was.
Jett was sprawled across his chair, a goblet of wine in hand. By the greasy stains around his mouth and the half empty plate in front of him, Braydon could imagine the disgusting site that Rhydian and Nela had had to witness. And by the furrowed brows of Rhydian and the barely veiled face of disgust on Nela, they had about had enough.
“My apologies, Blake’s son, I was not informed that you would be coming. Had you learnt how to send a messenger in advance, I am sure that I could have accommodated you better.” Braydon was not interested in putting up false pretences. Everything he said was true, but it was obviously a provocation. Not that Braydon thought Jett had the intelligence to properly respond when sober, let alone his permanently half-inebriated state. And he was correct.
“What did you say, you bastard?!” Jett tried slamming the table but the sound was feeble. He had never been renowned for his strength, mainly abusing his position as Earl Blake’s son to get his way. What he was forgetting here was that he wasn’t in the land of a neutral noble but of a lord from an enemy faction. If he decided to act wilfully he would be given no quarter.
“Was I wrong? Please correct any misunderstandings I might have had.” Braydon responded with spite. When he saw that Braydon would not budge, he tried turning to Nela for backup.
“My love, this brute is maligning my good name and you are not saying anything? This would be the best time if any to stand up for your husband’s honour.” When Jett said this, Braydon almost laughed out loud. The face of pure revulsion that Nela let slip for a moment said that she was not quite as amused as Braydon. Though she decided that she would think carefully before saying anything lest she start cussing in his face. It would not do well for her reputation if she became known for swearing at her fiancé in the castle of another lord.
“But Lord Braydon has been nothing but hospitable to me during my stay here. It would be uncouth for me to say something libellous about him.” She decided to go with a roundabout way of calling Jett a liar and a brute. Though, the meaning of her words obviously went over his head, only understanding that she had refused to speak ill of Braydon.
“See this, this is why you should come home with me, my love. Here you are unable to even speak of the maltreatment you have suffered for fear of reproach.” He had completely missed the mark. Braydon knew that Jett did not hold any great philosophical insights but he could not even understand a simple insult. He was unsure of what to say next but decided that he would have to be more direct than Nela had been. He was free to do so as he held an actual title, and did not have any status that would stop him from going against Jett. Unlike Nela who was still his fiancée, if in name only.
“That Lady Nela ran away did not clue you in? She does not want to marry you. You have also only shown up here now, I doubt that you truly care as much as you say. Or did you get lost on your way out of the brothel.” Braydon wondered if he had been direct enough. But from the look of unadulterated rage that graced his face, Braydon knew it had worked. Jett stood from his chair as he started to curse.
“YOU BASTARD! How dare you! Do you think I will not…”
“He is right.”
“Wha…” Jett had intended to fly off the handle but Nela had cut him off. She had not spoken loudly but had made sure that she had been heard by the man throwing a tantrum. He stood almost muted.
“I said he is right.” Nela repeated herself to the now mute Jett.
“He is right about what?” He was trying to delude himself. Surely she could not mean it.
“I ran away because I do not want to marry you.” When Nela said it so clearly, Jett was forced to confront it. Braydon wondered how Jett would react. He had likely never been rejected so strongly in his life. At least not by a woman. Though Braydon thought that a sample size of hookers at brothels was a bit biased to form an opinion of women. ‘Will he deny her opinion? It sounds like something he would do.”
“Then fine! I never wanted to marry a whore like you anyway. I am sure you have already given yourself to every man in this damned castle by now. Why else would you be treated so well?” Had he just gone there? Rhydian and the guard captain stood slack jawed. They knew he had a bad reputation but this was something else.
Nela stood up, her smile had finally disappeared. She slowly made her way towards Jett, who had now also realised what he had just called her. He may be stupid but even he knew that he was in deep s***, if this got out it would ruin him and quite possibly his father too. Though he did not care about that, just what his father would do to him once he heard. It was then that he looked up to see Nela raising her arm.
“What are you…”
*slap*
