"You are not like your father," she said.
Julian met her eyes. "I'm not."
"Explain that to me."
"My father," Julian said, his voice unhurried, "is a man who endures. Every insult, everything Liam and his men do—he takes it in, thinks about it, and makes careful calculations before moving on. He is very good at enduring."
He paused.
"I am not interested in enduring."
"When that soldier said what he said about you," Julian continued, "my father heard it politically. What it meant for the duchy and what responding would cost." He looked at her steadily. "I heard something different."
"What did you hear," she said quietly.
"A man who believed he could say anything about you in this castle without consequence," Julian said. His voice remained calm throughout, which made it even more intense. "I heard that clearly. And I decided it was the last time anyone in this building would make that calculation."
The room held the words.
Olivia's hands had gone still completely.
