My Unchosen Ex Chases Reborn Me (Soren and Fiona) novel Chapter 33

Chapter 33 Shifting Currents

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Soren’s brows knitted for the briefest beat, then smoothed as though the crease had never existed. “Your birthday gift has already been delivered to your chambers,” he said to her, handing a box of sugared plums. “Be sure to share these sweets with the other ladies.”

A chorus of feminine voices rose at once-“Thank you, Lord Soren!“-cach syllable shimmering with hope that he might linger on their face a heartbeat longer.

The way his left sleeve sat ever so stiffly… The injury must be on his shoulder. Fiona mused, tracing the subtle tension in his posture. Ulrich said Xavier rode out with Soren days ago… Where is he now? Is he hurt as well? I can’t very well march up to Soren and inquire—he would see through me at once. Roxanne, though, is discreet. I will ask her to find out for me. Besides, Naomi is unlikely to welcome my presence tonight, and letting Roxanne glimpse where my affections lie might prevent future misunderstandings between us. Roxanne is no gossip, and inquiring after a gentleman’s injury scarcely tarnishes a lady’s reputation.

Roxanne studied Fiona for a brief moment. Though she knew it was Soren who had declined the match, the mention of Xavier eased an inexplicable knot in her chest.

Perhaps it was because Fiona’s beauty was disarming–few men could remain indifferent to such charm.

True, Fiona might never become the Zonfrillo Estate’s matriarch, but a favored concubine was far from impossible, especially once the Niven family’s fortunes began to fade.

“Don’t fret, Fiona. I’ll ask him for you,” Roxanne promised.

Soren’s wound, though far from mortal, required quiet rest, and he had no intention of lingering longer than courtesy demanded.

In truth, he had taken that blade deliberately. Convalescence was the perfect excuse to step away from the vicious currents swirling through the Imperial Palace.

As he turned to depart, Roxanne stepped gracefully into his path, silk skirts whispering across

the marble floor.

“Blessings upon you, Lord Soren,” she said, her voice as soft as falling snow.

“What can I do for you, Ms. Thankerton?” Soren asked, patience stretching but intact.

“Lady Fiona bids me ask–has Mr. Xavier suffered any hurt?” Roxanne said.

The request told Soren all he needed to know. Fiona had noticed his own wound and, by

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Chapter 33 Shifting Currents

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extension, feared for the man who had accompanied him.

Still, he had little desire to become a messenger in their budding affection.

“Xavier is unharmed,” Soren replied coolly, then strode away without another word.

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Roxanne caught a fleeting change across Soren’s face. For a heartbeat, she wondered whether the flicker of displeasure was real or nothing more than her own nervous imagination.

Only when Fiona heard that Xavier had escaped the fray without so much as a bruise did the tight band around her chest finally loosen. “You’ve gone to such trouble, Roxanne. I’m truly grateful,” she said, warmth flooding her voice.

Roxanne shifted the folds of her gown, already glancing toward the far pavilion where Naomi waited. “I still have to stand with Naomi to welcome Her Grace,” Roxanne murmured. “If you grow bored, Fiona, roam as you please. Once the banquet is finished, you may depart.”

But the air inside the reception hall pressed thick with perfume and overlapping chatter. Fiona slipped sideways through a gap between cloaked shoulders, choosing a shaded colonnade where she could breathe again.

Guests flooded the Zonfrillo Estate, and overworked servants darted like swallows around their feet. One such girl–no more than fifteen–tripped on a trailing carpet and crashed at Fiona’s toes, her face draining of color. “Please, my lady, spare me,” the child stammered, voice shaking as badly as her scraped hands.

Fiona sank to a knee, steadied the girl with gentle hands, and asked in the softest tone whether anything hurt.

“Are you one of Mr. Callum’s chamber maids?” Fiona asked, a flicker of recognition surfacing.

“Yes, the girl whispered. “They call me Hope.”

Unbeknownst to either of them, Callum stood only a few steps away behind a lattice screen, every word reaching him with perfect clarity.

How in the world does she know Hope? Has she been asking after me on purpose? Heat crept onto Callum’s ears. She isn’t chasing Soren’s shadow at all. She’s interested in me. Does that mean she finds me more compelling than Soren?

Ordinarily, he despised women who pried into his life. Yet Fiona’s gentle familiarity with his servant felt anything but intrusive. It spoke of kindness, not calculation.

When Soren refused the proposed match with Fiona a short while ago, Callum felt an illicit sigh of relief fill his chest.

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