Chapter 212: Whipped Beyond Imagination

Mackenzie wasn’t at all surprised that his father was twenty minutes late to their meeting. Nor was he surprised when his father strode into Mackenzie ’s office, slid into the chair opposite his desk, and offered no explanation for his tardiness. With calculated cool and distaste, he surveyed the office: no windows, a worn rug, an open trunk of discarded weapons that Mackenzie had never found the time to polish or send for repairs.

At least it was organized. The few papers on his desk were stacked; his glass pens were in their proper holders; his suit of armor, which he rarely had occasion to wear, gleamed from its dummy in the corner. His father said at last, “This is what our illustrious king gives the Captain of his Guard?”

Mackenzie shrugged, and his father studied the heavy oak desk. A desk he’d inherited from his predecessor, and one on which he and Jane had—

He shut down the memory before it could boil his blood, and instead smiled at his father. “There was a larger office