Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Aurelia
I don’t realize I fell unconscious until my eyes flutter open again.
In that first instant of waking, my mind hasn’t quite caught up to everything I’ve been through in the past several hours. I recognize that I’m lying on dry earth with morning sunlight wavering through leaves overhead, and move to push myself upright.
The spike of agony that pierces through me from head to toe shocks me right back to the present.
I crumple back down against the side of the hollow and make an attempt at clearing my throat. My vocal cords still sear with pain.
When I part my lips and attempt to call out, I sound more like I’m gargling than yelling.
I can see over the lip of the hole, but even lifting my good arm toward the surface makes me flinch. All my injuries have set in, and my initial rush of adrenaline has faded.
It’s hard to imagine being able to pull myself the rest of the way out of the hollow, let alone all the way to the palace gardens.
What now?
I’m scrambling for some kind of solution when the crunch of footsteps reaches my ears.
My heart leaps. The sound was distant, but it can’t have come from too far off if I was able to hear it.
Another twig snaps. The underbrush rustles with someone’s passage.
And a voice that’s low but pitched to carry wavers through the woods. “Aurelia? Are you out here?”
That sounds strangely like… Prince Raul.
Why would he be wandering the woods? Why would he be looking for me?
Both questions are better answered after I’m found.
I try to lift my voice again. “I’m over here!”
The rasping words are barely louder than a whisper. I don’t hear any sign that my call was noticed.
There has to be another way. I grope around with my uninjured arm and grasp one of the larger sticks Fausta and her friends hurled down on me.
Extending the stick as far as I can without fainting with agony, I rap it against the base of the fallen tree. The stick clatters against the log.
Not quite loud enough. Gritting my teeth, I smack the mossy wood with all the strength I have left.
The distant footsteps stop. “Did you hear that?”
Another voice—Prince Bastien’s even cadence. “That way.”
I keep flailing at the log even as tears form at the corners of my eyes. The bruised and possibly fractured ribs in my side send a pulsing burn through my torso.
The approaching figures pick up speed, crackling through the brush. I’m just lowering my arm with a gasp for breath when they hurtle into the small clearing around the fallen tree.
It’s not just Raul and Bastien but Lorenzo as well. They jerk to a halt. Lorenzo’s dark eyes widen while Bastien’s jaw goes slack.
Raul speaks first, with a snarl resonating through his words. “That treacherous bitch.”
In my dazed state, I almost think he’s talking about me . Then he scrambles down into the depression next to me, his hand hovering over my shoulder while panic flashes across his face. “What did she do to you?”
I swallow against the pain in my throat and manage a few brief croaks. “Broken leg. Foot. Ribs.”
Bastien’s mouth has twisted into a grimace of fury. “And hit her hard in the throat, from the sound of it. Fucking harridans. It was Fausta and her pack of vipers, wasn’t it?”
I manage a nod, and he sucks a hiss of a breath through clenched teeth. “The way they were smirking at breakfast when Marclinus commented about you not showing up—Fausta even made a comment about how you’d probably run off. Thank the gods Lorenzo remembered he’d seen them wandering around out here last night. Hold on, let me…”
He eases down the side of the hollow more cautiously than Raul did, but his expression is no less fraught. His dark green gaze skims my jumble of limbs, tracking the damage.
I don’t really understand why they’re so concerned about my well-being all of a sudden. Considering how we made our acquaintance and the performance I gave last night, I’d be less surprised if they’d come to celebrate my downfall .
Lorenzo makes an urgent sound, crouching at the edge of the hollow. I can’t follow his hasty gesture, but Bastien must understand.
“I don’t know if it’s safe to move her,” he says, his own voice strained. “If we don’t stabilize her properly, we could make things worse.”
He peers down at me, his grimace deepening. “I don’t suppose you know any brews for healing broken bones, Medic Princess?”
Even with all the pain I’m in, I can’t restrain a snort. “It’ll take… a real medic.”
He curses under his breath and looks over at Raul. Bastien’s face has tensed with frustration, which makes even less sense to me when Raul bares his teeth in silent comprehension. “That fucking prick Tarquin.”
Now I’m totally lost. What has the emperor got to do with any of this? If he decided he no longer approved of me, he’d have his guards slit my throat, not send the other ladies to discard me in the woods.
Bastien grazes his fingers over my hair in an unexpectedly gentle gesture. Maybe trying to soften the blow of what he says next. “Early in the trials, Emperor Tarquin gave orders to the imperial medics that they’re not to interfere if any of the potential brides manage to sabotage each other without getting caught in the act. That they should let nature ‘run its course’ and the strong prevail.”
The disgust in his voice makes it clear exactly what he thinks of that attitude.
I know without even prodding my gift that there’s no concoction in the world that can meld together a body broken like mine is. I could dampen the pain, yes, but I’d still be unable to walk, incapable of even sitting up without help .
Raul growls. “I’ll drag that cunt out here by her fucking throat and make her account for what she’s done. Cutting down the one woman in this mess who has anything like a heart…”
I look up in time to see Bastien glaring at him. “Assaulting Fausta is only going to get you thrown in a jail cell—or in your own grave. Being an idiot won’t help Aurelia.”
Raul glowers back at him, every muscle in his massive body flexing with his seething energy. “She’s going to pay one way or another.”
Lorenzo reaches out to tap Bastien’s shoulder for his attention. Whatever he communicates, the other prince’s expression turns pensive. “Yes, even in this situation, that might work. With the right leverage…”
He turns back to Raul. “You still haven’t told anyone the thing about Flacos, have you? We didn’t think it was worth humbling him.”
Raul’s pale eyes light up so avidly it would probably terrify me if I didn’t know his rage is on my behalf. “I still have that secret in my back pocket. Has he got a gift that’ll work for knitting bone?”
“I don’t know, but even if he doesn’t, it might be enough to persuade him to bring one of his colleagues on board to help.”
“Maybe… Let’s see if we can put a little fear into him and get the job done.” Raul’s gaze drops to me again. His hand, still extended tentatively over my shoulder without quite touching it, clenches into a fist. “And quickly.”
I have no idea what they’re talking about—or whether I’d agree to this plan. “What are you going to do?” I rasp.
A savage smile curves Raul’s lips. “My gift told me a little something about one of the medics on staff that he wouldn’t want anyone else knowing. We’ll get you healed, Princess—he can be paid with my continued silence.”
He sounds utterly certain, but as he and Bastien get to their feet, my stomach knots. “Wait.”
What if he’s overestimated the sway he’ll have over this man? What if his ploy only exposes Fausta’s victory over me so that it can no longer be concealed?
The princes stare at me.
“What?” Raul demands. “Do you have a better idea?”
Bastien’s penetrating gaze takes the measure of me. “Or she isn’t sure she can trust us. Which might be fair enough, but I don’t think you have many options, Aurelia.”
Lorenzo’s fingers shift at his side in a few emphatic motions. We’ll help you.
My throat constricts around the sting. I don’t want to put my life in their hands… They’ve toyed with it enough times themselves.
But they’re here. They came looking for me; they’ve raged on my behalf.
Isn’t this why I started cultivating their good will in the first place? What would have been the point if I throw away their aid when I need it most?
I dip my head. “All right. Try your plan.”
Raul simply grins.
Bastien points to Lorenzo. “Persuading Flacos is mostly going to take talking. Stay with her in case Fausta’s crew decides to come back to gloat.”
Lorenzo gives a gesture of agreement followed by something else that makes the other prince nod.
“Good thinking.” Bastien casts his gaze down on me once more. “We’ll be back as quickly as we can. Stay strong.”
As he and Raul lope off through the woods, Lorenzo sits down on the side of the hollow to join me. He takes my hand in his gingerly and then twines our fingers when I show no sign of discomfort.
A sudden burn forms behind my eyes, as comforting as the gesture is. Maybe because of how comforting it is.
I thought I’d destroyed all the progress I’d made with these men with yesterday’s stunt. But somehow the three princes I’ve clashed and sparred with are on my side—and more passionately determined to help me than I’d ever have expected.
Even with the evidence right in front of me, I have trouble wrapping my head around that idea. I peer up at Lorenzo as if I can read the answers to my confusion in his handsome face.
With him so close, I can get away with simply murmuring. “After last night, I thought you’d all be back to hating me.”
Lorenzo’s forehead furrows as if he doesn’t know what I’m talking about.
I make a face. “The way I treated Lady Rochelle?”
He blinks and then sputters a sort-of chuckle. The motion of his free hand toward me, then covering his face, then pressing to his heart convey a clear enough message.
You were hiding that you cared.
A lump fills my throat. They recognized that? They trusted what I’ve shown them enough to believe my cruelty was an act and not my kindnesses before?
That’s what Raul must have meant about me being the one woman with a heart. The horrified look on Lorenzo’s face last night—it was prompted by Marclinus’s attitude rather than mine.
It’s possible saving Rochelle won the princes to my side more instead of pushing them away.
How is it that these three men who started out terrorizing me know me better than the man who claims to be considering me as his lifelong partner?
“I also told off Raul quite a bit,” I feel the need to add.
Lorenzo’s mouth twitches with a grin. I think the next flicks of his fingers are meant to convey, He likes that.
My guffaw prickles up my throat. “Sure he does.”
Apparently I didn’t offend Raul so much that he wrote me off, though.
The effort of speaking has set off the pain in my ribs again. I let my eyes drift shut.
Lorenzo keeps holding my hand, using his other to brush stray strands of hair away from my forehead. His touch lingers on my face.
All at once, my heart is aching more than any other part of me.
The bell of the hour peals beyond the palace walls. It’s hard to tell how long it’s been before footsteps tramp back toward us, punctuated by hushed but urgent voices.
I open my eyes just as Raul and Bastien come into view at the top of the hollow, flanking a middle-aged man with wispy salt-and-pepper hair atop his narrow face. I saw him overseeing the medics who healed our burned hands in that previous trial, though I never spoke to him directly.
As he studies my crumpled form, he frowns. “What did you say happened here?”
“She fell,” Bastien says flatly. “What does it matter? She needs healing.”
“She fell three feet and managed to break several bones all through her body, and end up with a bruised throat?”
At the medic’s obvious skepticism, my chest tightens. He’s not easily fooled.
Raul narrows his eyes. “You’re going to fix her up as well as you can, or the emperor’s going to find out just how much you’ve exploited his generosity in supplies.”
I’ve never heard the prince sound so ominous.
The man’s tan face grays. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“No? You really don’t think that I could have noticed what you’re carrying on you when you take your little trips out of the palace—what is it, every tenth evening?”
A shiver runs through the medic’s frame, but he makes one final protest. “I have orders from Their Imperial Eminences not to interfere?—”
“ Fuck your orders. Work your magic, or we’re marching you straight to Emperor Tarquin right now.”
My body stays tensed, but the man only hesitates for a moment longer. Muttering something to himself, he slides into the hollow next to Lorenzo and examines my legs. “I’d better start here.”
Bastien folds his arms over his chest. “Be quick about it. We need her back at the palace as soon as possible.”
The medic rests his hand on my shin. Warmth courses through my flesh, followed by a piercing sensation that makes me wince.
But the tension in Bastien’s voice niggles at me. He bends down to pass a small drinking skin to Lorenzo, who brings the spout to my lips. The cool water dribbles down my sore throat.
As Lorenzo draws back the skin, I catch Bastien’s gaze. My voice comes out a little smoother. “Why the rush?”
His mouth tightens. “Marclinus is calling for all his remaining ladies to attend to him at the next bell. If you’re not there… I don’t think there’s any excuse that will appease him.”