Don’t dare me

“Marcus, you’re defending that girl again?”

Lady Bianca’s voice was sharp, trembling with the kind of fury that could only come from a mother who believed she was right.

Her husband looked up from his seat near the fireplace, calm as ever, his expression tired but steady. “I’m not defending anyone,” he said slowly. “I’m defending peace. That’s what you don’t seem to understand anymore, Bianca.”

She laughed bitterly and paced in front of him. The ...