Chapter 13 #2
It’s true and not true at the same time. I did run. I didn’t look back. I just didn’t do either of those things today.
Cowen nods grimly. “We’ll find it. Now that we know you’re safe, we can hunt it without fear of it hurting you, and put it down.” He gestures toward the lodge. “Please, my lady. Come inside.”
Brennan’s arm is around my shoulders, tucking me into his side as he steers me toward the lodge. “She’s exhausted. Whatever questions you have can wait until she’s rested.”
They lead me inside the lodge and my attention immediately goes to the trophies on the wall.
Nausea rises, burning my throat. I counted those mounted heads.
Forty-three of them. I was impressed by them.
Excited and eager to gain my own. I’d thought they were beautiful, and proof of human dominance over something wild and dangerous.
The antlers. The tusks. The different types of horns—curved and straight and twisted. Each one was grown on a living creature. Each one attached to a body that could think and speak.
Because they are my people.
My stomach turns. I press my hand over my mouth, and turn away. I can’t look at them any more.
“Alleria?” Brennan’s arm tightens around my shoulder. “Are you—”
“Please, I just want to rest. I need to …”
“Of course.” He turns to Cowen. “Is there a room my princess can use for the night?”
Cowen nods, and leads us to a room on the first floor. “Please stay as long as you wish. I’ll send word to the king that you’re safe and unharmed.”
Brennan follows me into the room. “Do you need anything? Would you like me to stay?”
“No.”
He catches my hands. “I never gave up believing we’d find you. You’re safe now. I’ll never allow anything to happen to you again.”
I press my lips together, swallowing the slightly hysterical laugh that bubbles up. As if he could stop Cairn if he wanted to do anything.
“You must be hungry. I’ll have food sent up ... And hot water so you can bathe. You must want to get out of those clothes.” He squeezes my fingers. “Anything you need, Alleria … I’ll be in the room next door.”
The door closes behind him, and I stand in the middle of this warm, clean room with its soft bed, a fire burning in the hearth, and wait for the relief at being safe to come.
It doesn’t.
The maids arrive with steaming water, filling a copper tub. They cluck over my dirty clothes, my tangled hair, and the state of my fingernails. They help me undress, and I let them, because I don’t have the strength to protest.
When my clothes hit the floor, I turn away so they won’t see my face as I search my skin.
There’s nothing to be found. The bruises he marked me with have faded.
The cuts have healed … all except the scar on my palm.
It’s pale and thin, barely visible unless you know it’s there.
I stare at it, remembering the way his nail opened my skin, his mouth sealing over it.
The lap of his tongue, the heat of his lips, the way my body responded—
Shutting that thought down, I step into the tub and sink down into the hot water, until it covers me to my chin.
“Is there anything else, my lady?” One of the maids hovers near the door.
“No. Thank you.”
They leave, and finally I’m alone with the thoughts I’ve been keeping at bay.
He let me go.
I should be relieved and grateful. I’m neither of those things.
He’s going to get himself killed.
I shouldn’t care. He kidnapped me. Used me. Every nightmare I’ll have for the rest of my life will wear his face.
Human females who want to fuck the dangerous fae. Who want to believe they’re special. That they’ve tamed something wild and vicious.
My face burns even now, alone in the bath, remembering the contempt in his voice. But underneath the shame, there’s also anger. I’m scared to examine it too closely.
The water cools around me, but I don’t get out. I just lie there, staring at the ceiling, while the light fades and the fire pops.
He’s out there somewhere. The Dell’s hunters will be searching for him, but they won’t find him. He’s too smart for that. And I think his magic is returning. I saw it at the stream, that silver light flickering between his fingers.
Fae magic. One of the reasons they are caged in iron.
I should tell Brennan and Huntmaster Cowen. I should go downstairs right now, find them both, and tell them that he isn’t running. That he’s going to come back.
But I can’t.
You told the serving girl I was a pet. You told the seamstress your father bought me.
Every lie he had me tell wove a trap around me. If I speak now, I don’t just look complicit, I look guilty. Even if they believed me, even if I could explain why I did what I did, what then?
So I stay silent. I have no other choice. It should horrify me. It does horrify me. The girl I was a week ago would be disgusted, appalled and ashamed. But that girl is dead, and what’s left behind is something messier.
Because I don’t want him to die. He terrified me, and I miss him. He used me, and I would let him do it again.
Eventually the water is too cold for comfort. I get out, dry off with the towel left for me, and dress in the clean nightgown left draped across the bed. It’s made from fine linen, soft against my skin, the kind of thing I’ve always taken for granted.
I climb onto the bed with its soft mattress and clean sheets. The pillow smells of dried flowers, and the blankets are heavy and warm.
Tomorrow, I’ll go home. I’ll see my father and pretend everything is how it should be. I’ll smile, and nod, and tell my story again. I’ll become the girl I was before.
Except I won’t. Because that girl would have killed him. And that girl is gone.
I close my eyes.
Go home, Alleria. Forget this happened.
But how? How am I supposed to do that?