Chapter 42
Forty-Two
SENAN
I stare up at the ceiling, woken by terrible nightmares. They’re getting worse, and I don’t know if it’s the poison or the fact that my time with Allette is running out.
In two weeks, I’ll be on my way to Nimbiss.
How will I survive without her?
You won’t survive . If Jeston doesn’t come through with the antidote, I won’t have to worry about any of it. I would’ve suggested leaving this cursed castle the moment she came back into my life, but without that antidote, I’m paralyzed.
What will happen to Allette when I’m gone? She has a means of earning a wage now, but how long will she be happy working here? What if they lay off workers and she is one of the unlucky ones to get sacked? She will need somewhere else to stay. A backup. A choice.
Unlike the last time, I need to ensure that my girl is provided for whether I’m around or not. That starts with reclaiming her aunt’s tower. She’ll require funds to maintain the place as well.
With my mind on fire, I roll out of bed and cross to my desk to make a list of all the things I need to do come morning.
First, I’ll meet with the registrar to have the title from the tower transferred to Allette. There will likely be some fee involved and back taxes to be paid.
The current resident will need to be contacted so that he and his staff have time to vacate the premises.
I should probably speak to?—
The servant’s door bursts open, slamming against the wall. I stumble to my feet, still clinging to the ink pen as I peer out into the dim hallway. Has Allette changed her mind and come to me after all? My heart soars at the thought. But then a masked man steps into the room cradling a woman in his arms.
The ink pen tumbles to the floor.
Not just any woman.
Allette .
Not only is some strange man carrying my girl, she is all but naked, wrapped in nothing but a towel. Where the fuck are her clothes? Is that blood on his uniform?
My pulse roars and vision swims as I sprint across the room. “Allette? Allette, can you hear me?” I caress her pale cheek. “Why isn’t she responding?” I demand.
“Who is Allette?” the man asks.
I recognize his voice. Jeston is the one holding my girl. “What happened?”
“She passed out.”
Shit. The blood isn’t his. It’s Allette’s. No… My love. Please, no… I urge him toward the bed. “Put her down.”
“But the sheets?—”
“I don’t give a shit about the sheets. Put her down and tell me why the fuck she is bleeding.”
He lays her gently onto my bed before lifting his mask. Sweat drips down his face, the paleness of his skin making his dark eyes look more haunted. “She was whipped.”
Did he say someone whipped my girl? What sort of sick, twisted person would order a woman to be whipped?
Not that it fucking matters. Whoever did this is dead.
Allette whimpers when I sink down next to her on the mattress. She’ll need to be healed, and fast. I brush a dark lock back from her impossibly pale face only to discover a mottled blue and purple bruise painting her delicate cheekbone. Did someone strike her as well? Rage fills my chest, a fiery inferno. When I go to peel back the stained towel, I realize Jeston is still watching. “Turn around.”
He doesn’t budge. “Most of the wounds are on her back. You’ll need to turn her over.”
“I can see where her wounds are, now turn the fuck around.”
He does so with a huff. Only then do I find the courage to roll Allette onto her front. Gods …
Angry welts drip dark blood onto my pristine sheets from where my girl’s back has been torn to shreds.
Someone is going to pay dearly for this.
I call on my magic, pressing my hands to a small patch of unmarked skin near the base of her back, sending healing power toward my mate’s wounds. I’ll have to spend a good deal of time in the sun to make up for draining myself, but it doesn’t matter. I’d drain myself dry if it meant healing her. I don’t stop until those marks are nothing more than faint silver lines.
The scars marking what happened in the human realm don’t fade at all. Although I saw them in the solarium, tonight they’re yet another terrible reminder of the pain she must’ve endured, all because I made the foolish mistake of leaving her in that cottage. All because I failed to protect her. And now I’ve failed her again.
“Tell me exactly what happened. Spare no details.” I need to know the name of the person who did this.
Jeston starts telling me about a dead guard and stolen books and lashes— lashes . My love and her friend were beaten over borrowing books ? I listen to every word, my anger simmering until it boils over.
I want to scream. To cry. To take the head of the man who took a cane to my love’s back.
Jeston wipes his hands down his white trousers, his head tilting as he looks at me. “She was crying for you. I wasn’t going to bring her, figured you’d be”—his gaze drops to my clenched fist—“otherwise occupied. But Braith insisted. Said Wynn asked her to get you the moment she realized she needed help.”
Even after I’ve let her down so many times, Allette still looks to me for help.
And yet, I couldn’t save her. Not from what happened in the human realm, and not from this.
I am the worst of fools, thinking maybe fate would let us find happiness in this life after suffering for so long.
“Senan?” Allette’s voice is like a whisper in the silence.
I kneel next to the mattress, afraid of disturbing her even though her wounds have been healed. “I’m here, my love. I’m right here.”
“I need your help…”
“I know, my love. I’ve healed you.”
The tears swimming in her eyes spill onto my pillowcase. “No… I… I killed a guard. He was drunk, and he tried to force himself on me. H-he called me your…your whore.”
If she hadn’t killed him, I would have gladly melted his flesh from his bones and let the wild beasts of the Nether Forest tear his limbs asunder. “I am sorry I ever let you return to those caverns. I have failed you once more, but I swear it will not happen a third time.”
Her glittering eyes cling to mine, searching until they flutter and drift closed once more.
Jeston watches in rapt silence as I stand, prepared to fight the whole fucking world and the stars if I must. “Get her things. She will not be returning to the caverns. Have Braith bring them here.”
His eyes widen. “Braith doesn’t have access to the family wing.”
“Then tell whoever is in charge to give her access.” Honestly, how hard is it to figure out? “Who ordered the lashes?”
“The House Master.”
Looks like I’ll be paying the House Master a visit. I glance back toward Allette. Unsure if she is listening, I keep my voice low. “Did you get the antidote?”
His dark brows slam down over narrowed eyes. “I’m still working on it.”
And I’m running out of time .
“If you speak a word of this to anyone, I will take your head.” I don’t care if it’s signing my own death warrant. If anyone hears the truth of what Allette has done, I’m not even sure my influence can save her.
With a nod, Jeston leaves me to my chaotic thoughts.
As much as I want to visit the House Master immediately, the thought of leaving Allette here on her own makes me physically ill. What if she wakes only to find me gone? No, no. I can’t leave.
Nor can I sleep. So I pace, my anger only growing with each step I take.
First, I’ll deal with the bastard who did this to my girl. Then, I’ll have Bilson go to the registrar about Allette’s tower. There will be training later that I won’t be allowed to miss, but some extra time in the sun will help replenish my power.
Once Allette is back on her feet, she can move in to her tower and be far away from this place and these people. I still can’t believe anyone in his right mind would consider corporal punishment a proper response to taking books.
The servants’ door creaks open, and a maid slips into the room with a small bundle clutched to her chest. She hesitates before lifting her mask, and I recognize woman with silver hair from that night at the Black Hole.
Did Jeston not tell her to bring all of Allette’s things? “Where is the rest of it?” I ask.
Braith glances down at the bundle, then back to me, her brow furrowing. “This is all she had in her room, sire.”
These are Allette’s only possessions? What sort of life must she have lived down in the human realm? I’ve been so caught up in reconciling with my mate that I never even thought to ask about her time there. To have gone down to that festival four years ago so full of life and hope and love only to return emptyhanded, without her wings…
All because I asked her to stay.
If I hadn’t been so fucking selfish?—
Braith whimpers when she sets the bundle onto the corner of the bed. “You’re in pain.”
“I am fine, sire.”
If she sustained the same wounds as Allette, there is no way her back is fine. Clearly, this woman is as stubborn as my girl. I cross to my bedside table to collect the ointment I use to heal my hands when my magic runs low. My guilt over what happened to Allette returns tenfold, so heavy, my shoulders bow. Do I even deserve her? All my love seems to do is rip her asunder.
“Sire?”
Braith’s clear voice tears me from my darkening thoughts. I grab the ointment and slam the drawer closed. “Here. Take this for your wounds. It should help ease the pain and reduce scarring.”
“I can’t accept?—”
“You can and you will.” I force the small tin into her hand.
She watches me, the slightest wrinkle forming between her delicate brows. “Why would you do this for me? You don’t even know me.”
“You matter to her. Which means you matter to me.”
After a few moments, she tucks the tin into her skirt pocket and nods toward Allette. “Has she woken?”
“Briefly.” And she appears to be sleeping soundly for the moment. I draw the light sheet higher, covering her thin shoulders before pressing a kiss to her temple. She doesn’t even stir. “Will you stay with her until I return? There is something I need to do, and I don’t want her waking up alone.”
With a nod, Braith sinks onto the end of the bed.
I stalk over to the balcony, draw the curtains aside to open the double doors, and slip into the cool morning air. Bell and Bilson speak in low tones at the far side of the balcony, silhouetted by the rising sun. Both turn at the same time, their eyes widening when they see me.
I can’t even remember the last time I was awake for the changing of the guard.
Bell throws up his hands, his gray wings flaring as he takes a retreating step toward the balustrade. “I’m officially off duty. He is all yours.”
Groaning, Bilson’s head drops, and his navy-blue wings fall in disappointment. “Don’t tell me you’re going out. It’s half five in the fucking morning.”
Bell lets out a gruff chuckle. “Have fun.”
He takes off toward his tower in the north of the city, where his wife is undoubtedly waiting for him in their bed. What must it be like, having such freedom? To come and go without anyone following you, reporting your every move.
“Sire?” Bilson watches with a furrowed brow, his hands planted on his hips, looking like an angry mother about to give out to her bold child.
“Save your scolding, Bilson. You and I are going to the caverns.” I drop my glamour, and my wings appear at my back. I take off with a singular focus in mind, flying straight down, through the dark clouds and into the murky gray that lives in the world far, far below.
Two guards wait at the servants’ entrance, their eyes closed and heads drooping. Dozy bastards. I kick the iron gate, and they scramble to attention.
“Your Highness,” the younger one with a patch of fuzz over his thin upper lip scoffs. “What’re you?—?”
“Do you think you are in any position to question a prince of the realm?” I clip.
The man has the good sense to look terrified. “N-no, my prince.”
That is what I thought. “Bring me the House Master.”
With a bob of his head, he takes off running toward the caverns, his feet slipping and sliding as he stumbles for the dark entrance.
Bilson’s thick fingers clamp around the pommel of his short sword. “Sire? May I speak with you about something quite urgent?” He nods his chin toward a large boulder a few feet away. Knowing better than to make a scene, I reluctantly follow him.
“What do you want with the House Master?” Bilson asks under his breath, casting a wary glance back toward the remaining guard before turning that serious stare on me.
“He has committed heinous atrocities and must pay for his crimes.”
“If that is true, why isn’t the king handling this?”
“Because I am handling it for him.”
“This is not your place.”
“The hell it isn’t. He beat her.”
“Beat whom—?” Before he can even finish the sentence, his words fade and understanding lights his dark blue eyes. “What is your plan?”
“You’re going to let me borrow that.” I motion toward the sword at his hip. “And I’m going to run him through.”
He twists slightly, putting the hilt of his sword farther from my reach. “And risk your brother’s wrath? King Boris hired the House Master himself.”
He did? But Boris delegates everything. He has an advisor in charge of selecting his attire and someone to seal his private documents. He has a man who helps him fucking dress. He makes it seem like a king’s job isn’t to rule but to delegate. So why would my brother hand-pick the head of the household when there is a man in charge of castle hiring? Not that it matters. Bilson is right. If Boris finds out I murdered the man, he will have my head on a silver platter.
But I cannot stand by and do nothing .
A middle-aged man with inky black hair, stark against his pale gray face, stumbles from the caverns, escorted by a lone guard. His billowy white shirt hangs to his knees over a pair of dark trousers. “What is the meaning of this?” he huffs. “I’ve been up all night dealing with?—”
I step out from behind the boulder. The man’s dark gaze flies to mine, and he falls silent.
It takes every ounce of control I possess not to call fire to my palms and watch the skin melt from his bones as the bastard burns to ash.
With the guard still restraining his arms, he dips his head instead of offering a proper bow.
“I hear a guard was attacked,” I say. No sense mincing words.
Bilson’s boots crunch on the gravel as he shifts his weight. Probably should have told him that part. Oh well.
“That is correct, Your Highness,” the House Master says. “Darius Porter was bludgeoned by someone in the launderette. Sadly, he succumbed to his wounds, but I can assure you that we are searching tirelessly for the perpetrator.”
Part of me mourns the fact that I won’t get to kill the bastard myself, but that is neither here nor there. “I also heard that you ordered two maids to be whipped.”
His dark brows come together. “Because they stole from the king.”
“They didn’t steal anything. They borrowed books from a fucking library—and with my permission.” Let him choke on that little lie. My hands flex into fists at my sides. If it weren’t for the wards keeping me out, I would’ve already skewered the bastard.Fuck the consequences.
“Neither of them told me that, sire.”
“How many lashes did they receive?”
His throat bobs when he swallows. “Five a piece.”
I snap my fingers, and Bilson stalks forward, coming to a halt at my side. “This man is to be given ten lashes, and he is to be relieved of his position in the castle immediately.”
The House Master scoffs. “You jest.”
“Do I look like I’m fucking jesting?”
“You have no authority here. I was hired by the king himself.”
I saunter toward the gate, look the bastard straight in the eye, and say, “I don’t give a shit if you were hired by the gods themselves. I am a Vale prince. I can do whatever the fuck I want.” I nod, and the guards drag the man toward Bilson.
The House Master does not struggle when they force him to his knees. The sound of ripping fabric screams through the air. His eyes meet mine, his dark gaze rife with violent promises. I only wish he’d try something. Give me an excuse to stab Bilson’s sword into his narrowed eyes. Another guard appears, whip in hand, and hands the thing over to Bilson.
My guard shoots me a steely-eyed glare, his muscular forearms flexing as he adjusts his grip on the handle. The leather rope whizzes through the air, cracking off the man’s back. The House Master falls forward with a vicious curse, bracing his hands on the damp ground and taking every single lash.
I hope every time he sees the scars, he thinks of me.
And if he ever comes near my girl again, I will be the one to deliver the killing blow.