Chapter 12
Twelve
SENAN
Shadows cling to every corner of this place, ethereal and cold, lurking behind, beneath, and above. There’s a way to get rid of them, but until my guard decides to stare at something other than my face, that can’t happen.
“You can stop watching me like a fucking hawk, Bell. I already told you, I’m not going anywhere.” At least not with him being so infuriatingly diligent.
Bell’s frown deepens, and his eyes narrow, as if he can glue me to my stool through sheer will alone. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t believe you.”
No one believes me anymore. Not that I can blame them when my promises aren’t what they used to be. Then again, I wouldn’t have to lie if they’d stop asking so many damned questions.
I tuck my twitchy hands beneath my thighs so Bell doesn’t notice, but of course he does because he’s still staring . My own gaze drifts past him, toward the front door. “Does that man look familiar to you?”
Bell’s stare hardens before he twists on his stool.
I ease to my feet and am about to take a step when a different guard in silver leathers appears in front of me like an iron gate slamming closed. As if I need another fucking shadow.
Bell gets up and nudges the nameless guard aside. The man returns to his fellow guards sitting at a table devoid of drinks and conversation. Don’t they get bored? I’ve only been here an hour and already it feels like my brain has melted into one of the sticky puddles on the floor. I could’ve asked the women at the table beyond my guards to join me, but from the hungry looks they cast my way, I have a feeling they’re not interested in idle conversation.
“Where are you going?” Bell asks.
“To take a piss, oh observant one.”
In a blink, he starts patting my arms and chest and legs as if I’m some sort of criminal headed to the pit instead of a fucking prince.
“You’re welcome to come and watch if you don’t believe me. I’ll even let you hold it if you want.”
He ignores me, jerking the leg of my trousers up to my calf, revealing the hilt of the dagger hidden in my boot.
Other guards have forgotten to check there. But Bell, he’s a different breed. The only reason he and the others agree to accompany me to this place is because I bribe them with gold. As high and mighty as Bell is, he isn’t above lining his own pockets. None of them are.
I blink innocently at the dagger. “Now, how did that get there?”
Does he smile? No. That isn’t in Bell’s wheelhouse. He’d sooner stab me with my own blade than let his lips drift north. Just because he can’t seem to smile doesn’t mean I’m not allowed. Unless the king has outlawed that as well and forgot to tell me.
Bell tosses the dagger onto our table next to my four empty pint glasses and tells me to hurry up.
“Why? Are you anxious to return home to the little wife?” I give his bearded cheek a pat. “You know, I’d love to meet the woman who fell in love with that frowny face.”
Bell flushes but doesn’t try to follow me again. Nothing deters that man like a conversation about his missus.
“Just hurry the hell up,” he grumbles, returning to his stool to watch me stroll across the barren dance floor. Women huddle at shadowed tables tucked between velvet curtains. Some pretty. Some plain. One pale, gray face stands out in particular. A petite, silver-haired Tuath sitting next to a scowling mountain with a scarred forehead and a thick black beard. My left eye thinks it’s a good idea to wink at her. The drinks I downed when we first arrived urge me to flash her a smile.
I pass Mikel behind the bar—another scowler who always looks as if someone pissed in his boots. I nod and wave. What does he do? He scowls.
When I shove the privy door aside, the stench of shite clinging to the rancid air makes me gag. I suppose I’d be scowling too if I had to clean this revolting room at the end of every shift.
My boots stick to the tiles as I make my way forward, searching the three stalls for signs of life. Empty . Just like my soul. Chuckling, I lean my hip against the sink to keep myself from falling over and unhook the purse from my belt. There just happens to be a razor blade tucked beneath the handful of gold coins.
Not as sharp as the dagger, but it works in a pinch.
Tendrils of excitement surge through my chest as I press the blade to my right palm and slide it toward my wrist. I watch my blood drip into the sink before smearing my wound against the cinderblock to the left of the cracked mirror.
The block vanishes, revealing a vial of glittering golden stardust.
Hello, sweet escape.
I work the cork free with my thumb, inhale a shaky breath, and then pour the warm liquid over my wound. Golden fireworks shoot through my veins—the prettiest thing I’ve seen all night—smothering my insides in warm honey. I toss my purse into the wall, and the opening vanishes, along with all traces of blood.
Behind me, the door creaks, and the pretty Tuath from the shadows slips inside. The starlight racing beneath my skin dances on her soft features. Her pert nose. Her full mouth.
“You’re in the wrong room,” I say when she comes closer. The ladies’ privy is at the other end of the bar.
Silver hair falls over the shoulders of her low-cut black dress when she shakes her head, a coy smile playing on her lips as she continues forward until our chests brush. “I don’t think I am,” she murmurs, her dark gaze falling to my lips. She eases forward, and her mouth lands on mine. My back meets the rough cinderblocks, her soft, supple breasts pinning me there as I let her take whatever she wants.
When her warm hand slides into my trousers and clasps around me, my body responds with each exhilarating stroke. I groan against her lips, sinking into the brightest place in my mind, laced with starlight, until the echoing thud of splintering wood forces my eyes open.
The woman shrieks and stumbles back, revealing that Tuath mountain, who moves like lightning. Or maybe he’s slow and I’m just slower. Hard to tell. Either way, his hand ends up around my throat.
Diffuse the situation. That is what the king would say to do.
And that is exactly why I smile despite the blackness speckling the edge of my vision and say, “Give us a minute. We’re not finished yet.”
I don’t see his fist but feel it hit my poor, unfortunate face. Warmth trickles down my lips and chin. Bell flies into the room like an avenging angel, wings spread and sword drawn. The mountain throws him off as if he is an annoying flea, catching my collar, choking me as he drags me back into the bar. I get in one good punch, but the mountain doesn’t so much as flinch, kicking open the front door and throwing me into the fresh air.
My spine slams onto the unforgiving cobblestones. Icy muck seeps into my hair. My clothes. Not exactly how I planned my night to go, but I’ve had worse. Laughter surges inside me as I stumble to my feet. “If you want me to stay down, you’ll have to hit harder than that.”
The man’s fist batters my face again. I go down hard, my head cracking against the ground. If my nose wasn’t broken before, it is now. I blink up at the clouds, so heavy and dark. When I blink again, I find myself staring into a pair of startled, golden eyes framed by the thickest lashes I’ve ever seen.
I wait for her to vanish. She always vanishes, no matter how much I wish she’d stay. This time, though, she isn’t going away.
“Hello,” I whisper, reaching out a hand to touch her beautiful face.
One more.
That’s all I want. One more stolen moment.
She’s there and then she is gone.
Only she doesn’t vanish into the mist like every other time I’ve imagined her. The crowd flooding the streets sweeps her away, and I lose her in the sea of bodies.
I lurch to my feet, scanning the faces swimming around me. Where did they all come from? Someone yanks the back of my shirt, dragging me through the crowd toward a group of guards on the far side of the street. They close around me, an impenetrable wall of scowls and muscles.
Bell releases me with a curse, raking his fingers through his shoulder-length hair.
“I saw her,” I gasp. Gods and heavens and stars above, I saw her! When I try to wedge myself between two men, they close ranks, penning me in. “I demand you let me through. I saw her .” Bell’s narrowed gaze locks with mine. “She was there. Didn’t you see?” I scrub a hand down my face, moaning when I accidentally graze my sore nose. “Tell me you saw her.”
“You’re high as a fucking cloud,” he shoots back. “You didn’t see anything.”
I might be high, but I know what I saw. “This isn’t like the last time. I saw her.” I try to force my way through again, but the soldiers’ wings flare, giving me no way out but up toward the endless gray. Before I can drop my glamour, Bell clamps a hand on my shoulder.
“Let me prove it to you.” All he has to do is trust me. “Please. You can come and see for yourself.”
He has been with me the longest. He knows how important this is.
Bell heaves a heavy sigh but lets me go, nodding to two of the guards who then step aside. I run back to the square. Which way did she go?
“Prince Senan!” a woman shouts. I whirl, but the one waving isn’t the woman I want. More shouts echo. Women grab my arms, my shirt, my belt, making one salacious offer after another. I’m not interested in any of them, but the more I turn, the more lost I become. Bell tries to fend them off, but they keep coming.
I’m so fucking confused, my head feels like it’s actually spinning. I blow out a breath and brace my hands on my knees until the spinning stops. This time, when Bell takes my arm, he does so gently, as if I might shatter all over these stones.
“I saw her.”
“Sure you did.”
Despite the light streaming through my pores, darkness chokes me. I saw her, dammit. That’s what you said the last time . This time, it’s true. Then why are you still alone?
Bell keeps going to the far side of the street, where the rest of the guards wait. “It’s time to get you home.”
Home.
Such a funny way to describe a place that feels neither safe nor welcoming.
“Why can’t you do this when I’m off duty?” he mutters under his breath. “The king is going to have my head now. And yours.”
I’m not scared of the king. What is he going to do to me, anyway? Make me want to gouge out my own eyes? Too late. Bore me to tears? Already happened. Force me into a life I don’t want? Old news.
When I drop my glamour and stretch my wings, I accidentally knock into some poor woman. “So sorry. Didn’t see you there.”
Bell’s fingers circle my wrist. “I can’t let you fly in this state, sire.”
What state? “I’m fine.” Miserable and empty, but fine.
“You’re not fine. You just apologized to a statue.”
“She isn’t a statue, she—” I peer up at the woman. My starlight flickers off her bronzed features. Definitely a statue.
Knowing better than to protest when my guard is in a mood, I follow Bell up the hill, making it about ten minutes before my boots start rubbing my heels. If I’m not careful, I’ll end up with blisters. Blisters are the worst. Even worse than a broken nose. I don’t need my nose for anything but smelling, but I need my feet. “My legs are tired, and I’m getting blisters.”
Bell doesn’t slow his pace. “Remember that next time you stardust.”
There won’t be a next time. After this, I’m done. “Carry me. Please? I’ll love you forever and ever if you do.”
The guards behind us snicker.
“No. Now, hurry up.”
By the time we reach the base of the mountain beneath the castle, my skin no longer glows, which is probably a good thing considering the last time my brother found me using, he threatened to exile me.
As I stare up at dawn painting the castle’s white walls a warm gold, exile sounds like a preferable alternative to returning to that cage.
“Are you all right to fly or do I need to carry you?” Bell asks.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re sure?”
“I said I’m fine.” I have to assure Bell three more times before he lets me try.
I manage to make it to the balcony outside my bedchambers without ramming into anything, which is a victory, all things considered. Although the landing leaves me with a turned ankle and a bruised knee. I hobble into my room only to catch my fucking thigh on the corner of my fucking chaise and careen head-first onto the carpet.
Has the carpet always been this thick and soft? Has the bed always been so far away? Maybe I’ll sleep here.
“Do I want to know where you’ve been?” calls a voice I’d hoped to avoid until at least noon. The king stalks from the other side of my room, his long, onyx hair falling free past his shoulders instead of in its usual leather queue. “Gods, Senan. Is that blood?”
“Don’t know.” My nose gives an answering pulse. “Probably.”
Boris comes to a halt next to my head. I close my eyes so I don’t have to see his disapproving glare. “Have you lost your mind?” He nudges my shoulder with his boot. “You are to be married in twenty-one days, and you look as if you’ve been thrown from the tower with your wings bound.”
Can’t he tell I’m trying to sleep? I roll away from him, tucking my hands beneath my head for an extra comfortable pillow.
“You haven’t been sober since you visited your betrothed six months ago,” he goes on.
That is a bit of a stretch. I wake up sober every morning, don’t I?
“This ends now,” he announces.
“Come on, Boris. Tonight was my stag party. Can’t fault me for that, now, can you? You were young once. Granted, it was a really, really long time ago.” And being brought up knowing you would one day be king stole a man’s youth far too early. At least, that is the excuse I like to give when my brother is being a pain in the ass.
“I want you in rehabilitation first thing in the morning.”
“I don’t need rehabilitation.” What a waste of time. Who wants to sit around talking about what is wrong with our lives when we can drown our sorrows in much more pleasurable pursuits? “I can stop anytime I want.”
“Then why haven’t you?”
“Because I don’t want to.” Obviously .
The king’s curse sounds awfully close to my head. He loops his arms beneath mine, huffing and puffing as he drags me over to the bed. “I want your word that you will not cause any more trouble. Princess Leeri arrives in two days?—”
“ Two ?” She isn’t supposed to get here for at least another week.
“Two,” Boris confirms. “And if her father sees you like this, he will undoubtedly withdraw his support for the alliance. You’ve had your fun, now it’s time to grow up.”
What part of not being allowed out of the fucking castle without a royal babysitter is fun ? What part of living with a gaping hole in my chest is fun ? What part of being destined to wed a woman I care nothing for is fun ?
“I refuse to let your selfishness ruin everything our father worked so hard to achieve.”
What our father “achieved” was having a wife who happened to give birth to five sons. Would our dear, deceased father have been as determined to take over the world if he’d been given a daughter or two instead?
I grumble what sounds like a promise, the claws of exhaustion already dragging me into unconsciousness.
My dreams begin as they always do: with a pair of golden eyes.
And they end the same as well.
With me leaving her behind.