30. Princess Davina
Chapter 30
Princess Davina
“Love can make you do things
that you never thought possible.”
— Phil Collins
A voiding Cole for the past three days has been more challenging than I expected. Everywhere I turn, it feels as if I’m haunted by his presence, his scent, and his voice.
It’s making my blood boil.
Sitting in the library with the fire softly crackling, I should find comfort, but instead, I’m desperate to escape my thoughts .
I can make you shut up, but you might moan a little.
His words echo in my mind, and no matter how hard I try to blink the memory away, every thought is of him and him alone, invading my mind like a relentless disease, infecting every corner of my mind.
I blink, shake my head, and force my eyes back to the book in my lap. With an irritated sigh, I flip it open to the first page, hoping the story will offer me an escape—anything to take my mind off Cole. But just as I lift the book, a small piece of paper slips out from between the pages and lands in my lap.
Frowning, I pick it up.
I’m painfully aware of how foolish I’ve been.
Ugh . It’s like he’s everywhere, refusing to be ignored.
A lump forms in my throat as I set the book down. Determined to push him out of my mind, I grab another book from the stack beside me, desperate to find something, anything, that won’t remind me of him. But as I flip it open, another note falls out.
I’ve been thinking about how to make amends. If you have any suggestions, I’m open to anything.
I slam the book shut and groan in frustration before I grab another, but it’s the same story. Page after page, book after book, each one hiding a new message from Cole.
Just know I am at your mercy.
The next note is a frantic scrawl.
Please be angry, but do so in my presence.
I've come to realize that I cannot stand not hearing your voice.
And then, the most maddening of all:
I made a terrible mistake. I know that her death is a consequence of my actions, and while it should make me feel awful, it's your silence that’s truly breaking me. If you want me to be punished, know that your silence is the greatest punishment of all.
He’s not just sorry— he’s pleading.
My mind races because for the first time in two days, I’m not just angry or hurt—I’m conflicted.
The silence is shattered by a piercing scream from downstairs, and my heart leaps into my throat. I bolt out of the room, racing down the stairs two at a time.
When I reach the bottom, my breath catches in my throat.
Rafe presses Claire against the wall with a sword.
“Traitorous little thing,” Rafe says with a cold, biting tone. “If you think you’ll get away with this, you’re not only a fool but a dead fool.”
My heart races so fast I can barely manage to speak. “What—care to explain what’s going on here?”
The others stand huddled in the corner, looking horrified.
Rafe doesn’t even glance at me. “Princess, get back to your room.”
“Rafe, stop threatening her! What is wrong with you?”
Finally, he looks at me, his gaze dark and unyielding, the tip of his sword still pressed against Claire’s chest. “What’s wrong with me?” he repeats, his voice dripping with impatience. “I don’t like to repeat myself. Get the hell out of here.”
When I don’t move, he adds, “Just so we’re clear, I warned you. If you choose to stay, be prepared to see a lot of blood—and don’t complain later.”
A wave of nausea hits me at the thought of what’s about to happen. I quickly turn, colliding with something warm and solid. A breath escapes me as I’m forced a step back.
I know who I ran into before I even have to look.
Cole .
“Davina.” His eyes flicker to Rafe and then back to me. “Go into your room?—”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” I hiss and take another step back to get some footing, but it’s mostly just to put myself out of his reach.
I can’t shake the thought that he’s behind this. Being responsible for a woman’s death? That sounds all too familiar.
I mentally berate myself for not having my dagger on me. Scanning my surroundings, my eyes land on a silver five-armed candle holder, and without hesitation, I grab it.
Cole raises his hands in a placating gesture, inching closer.
“Don’t,” I snap, anger tightening around my middle. I clench my jaw, trying to get my bearings so I don’t lose it completely.
I close my eyes briefly, and when I open them, they lock onto concerned green ones.
“Davina, I?—”
I hold up a hand, cutting him off. “Did I stutter? I said don’t.” I swallow, trying to stem the nausea that’s churning in my gut. “Don’t you dare come any closer. And don’t even think about feeding me any poor excuses.”
“Claire tried to kill me.”
“You lying bastard,” I spit and laugh bitterly.
His expression shifts, desperation flickering across his face.
Such a convincing liar, I’ll give him that.
A devil in disguise.
“Bastard,” he echoes. “Trying out a new nickname, are we?”
My hands tremble so much that the candle holder shakes in my grip. “What kind of sick games are you playing?”
He stares at me, seemingly at a loss for words.
A muscle in his jaw ticks as he moves toward me. “I am not lying. Please, Davina, stop being dramatic.”
“ Dramatic? Take another step, and?—”
“You think I’m going to hurt you?” His gaze softens, almost pleading.
My teeth ache from how tightly I’m clenching them. “What kind of sick games are you playing?” I repeat, my voice rising with each word. I squeeze my eyes shut, my face turning to the side, hot disgusting tears flowing down my cheeks.
After reading those notes, I wanted to see the good in him.
I’m such a fool.
I breathe through my nose, trying to count back from ten, but the numbers don’t come. All that comes is anger.
Slowly, I open my eyes, letting the salty wetness drip to my chin. He reaches for my face, but I swat his hand away.
He lets out a frustrated sigh. “Ask her yourself.”
I spin around to storm back into the hall, and Cole’s laughter follows me, low and taunting.
I shoot him a withering look. “You think that’s funny? Wipe that smile off your face before I do it for you.”
“Come on,” he says, clearly amused, gesturing to the candle holder in my hand. “Put that thing away.”
I scoff. “You won’t be laughing when I stab you with it.”
His eyes twinkle as he leans in slightly, a playful smile playing on his lips. “Won’t I, darling? For you to stab me you’d have to be awfully close, and each time you voluntarily come near me, all I carry is a smile.” With a grin, he winks. “Please, stab me.”
My traitorous heart tightens at his words, but I ignore him and quicken my pace.
“I can’t decide,” he continues, “if I love to argue with you or if I just love looking at you.”
“Stop it.”
“You know what? Every argument with you makes me wonder what else we could be doing with all this energy.”
“Shut—” I’m shocked into silence when I spot Claire spitting in Rafe’s face.
“It’s his fault Madeline died,” she screams, her eyes darting around wildly. “You’re all going to hell. Every last one of you! You want to live with someone who sacrificed an innocent girl? She was my best friend, and he deserves?—”
“Very touching,” Rafe interrupts, his tone dismissive. The blade of his sword brushes against her throat. “But it won’t save you.”
I stand frozen, torn between the horror of what’s unfolding and the disbelief that seems to cloud my mind. “Wait,” I say, trying to piece things together. “Claire, what have you done?”
She lets out a harsh laugh, her eyes flashing with disdain as she glares at me. “Are you really this na?ve and blinded by him? Someone who kills women without a second thought?”
I blink, taken aback by her tone. Her words sting, but there’s something darker in her voice, something that makes me uneasy. “I’m not blinded,” I respond. “I didn’t agree with his plan. I’m just as angry as you are. But Lorelda killed Madeline.”
“But it was only because of him that Madeline ever crossed paths with Lorelda in the first place.” A twisted smile plays on her lips. “He deserved it.”
A shiver crawls up my spine. “What exactly did he deserve?”
The room falls silent.
Rafe starts to laugh. “Oh, please tell her,” he says, jerking his chin toward me. “Tell Davina what you’ve done,” he demands.
Claire spits in his face again.
Her eyes burn with hatred, and for a moment, I see a ferocity in her — the desperation of someone with nothing left to lose.
Rafe doesn’t even blink. He wipes the spit from his cheek and sighs, as if bored by the whole situation. “Isn’t this getting a bit tedious?” he asks, letting out another sigh. “I’ll break it down for you, Princess. Your new best friend here tried to poison him,” he says, nodding toward Cole. “She slipped some poison into his coffee this morning, but Juliet was kind enough to inform me.” His eyes flicker toward Juliet, who stands silently in the corner. “I owe you one, sweetheart.”
I turn to Claire, my eyes wide with shock. “Is he telling the truth?”
Claire merely stares at me with those cold, unforgiving eyes.
The tension in the air grows unbearable. “Claire!” I shout, desperate for answers. “Is he telling the truth?”
But she doesn’t answer, and her silence echoes louder than words. Her silence is a damning confirmation.
“If you tried to kill him,” I snap, “you are no better than he is.”
Rafe presses the blade against her temple. “The best part is, Cole begged me not to hurt you.”
He did? That’s… surprising .
I glance at Cole, but his face reveals nothing.
Why would he do that? Why would he try to save someone who tried to kill him?
Rafe meets my gaze. “Can you believe that? Seems like he still has a shred of a heart left somewhere. He’s worried you’d hate him even more than you do now.” His gaze shifts back to Claire. “Too bad I don’t tolerate traitors in this palace.”
Claire’s gaze flicks between Rafe and me, a humorless laugh escaping her lips. “Did you hear that? The mighty prince is willing to spare me just to keep the sweet little princess happy. I feel so honored,” she sneers, her voice ice-cold and dripping with venom. “You’re nothing but a puppet, Davina. Weak and pathetic.” Her eyes narrow at Cole. “And you,” she spits out, “rot in hell.”
My fists clench at my sides. My breath comes in ragged gasps as I take a step closer, anger trickling through my veins like poison, freezing my blood and stalling my heart.
I’m sick of being treated like a weak and fragile girl who was told to sit down and look pretty her whole life. I’ve been silent, obedient, and submissive for too long. I’ve swallowed my anger for as long as I can remember, always being told to keep my head down and my mouth shut.
But not anymore.
I’ve had enough.
What makes my fury burn hotter is the thought of Cole being dead if Juliet hadn’t intervened.
The thought of his death shatters something inside me.
Something just snaps.
I want her gone.
I’ve never felt such raw, consuming hatred before. Adrenaline surges through me, taking over my senses, and my mind screams for her to be killed.
In the midst of my boiling rage, Cole’s voice cuts through, barely audible over the pounding of blood in my ears. “—and watch the fucking way you speak to?—”
The anger is so strong I can’t choke it down. It sears my throat, roils in my chest, claws its way to the surface, and blankets my vision in a red haze.
Without being able to stop it, I let out a scream that reverberates through the room.
A chandelier crashes to the floor, scattering shards across the room, and chairs topple over in chaos.
Everyone’s eyes are fixed on me, but my anger doesn’t subside.
My gaze locks onto Rafe’s sword, and a dark desire flares within me for him to use it to end her.
She tried to kill Cole.
As if responding to my unspoken plea, Rafe’s sword pierces Claire’s chest.
I gasp as the reality of it hits me.
She’s dead.