Chapter Forty-Seven
T he truth.
My breathing quickens and the scent of woodsmoke and pine fills my lungs.
The hearth is warm at my back, and the fire flicks dim light across Blake’s chambers. It dances over the black silk sheets, crumpled from our fight, and the scars that mar his chest. For a moment, all I can hear is the crackle from the flames, and the wind that rattles the window.
Blake is promising me the truth. It’s what I want, what I’ve been searching for, yet my muscles tighten. There is something in the way he clasps his hands between his thighs, his jawline sharp, that makes my stomach clench.
“Well? Go on then,” I say.
He runs a hand over his mouth. “How could I have known?”
“Known what?”
His eyes snap to mine. “The events of that night, when James gave you to Sebastian. How could I have known what was going to happen?” He absently touches his bicep. There’s an indent where I sank my teeth into him. “How could I have known James would bite you? When I tried to arrange the marriage between the two of you, I meant it when I said he would not hurt you. For all his faults, I did not think he would.”
My brow creases. “I... I don’t understand. Why are you telling me this? What has it got to do with anything?”
“If my entire plan rested on getting you to accept the bond between us, I would have needed to ensure you were in a life-threatening situation so I could save your life.” He shakes his head. “How could I have planned the series of events that led to James attacking you? There were too many variables to control, too many things that could have gone wrong. Even I’m not that good.”
“You said—”
“No. I didn’t. You said that, not me.”
I cast my mind back to the small bedchambers in Lowfell. I had accused him of planning it all, of creating the bond so Callum would forfeit the throne. And he had said...
My heart stutters. He didn’t deny it, but he didn’t confirm it, either.
“What are you saying?”
“I cannot break the bond, Aurora, because I did not create it. It’s not in my power.”
I step back. The fire is hot behind me, yet my blood runs cold. “You’re lying.”
“Do you think I want this?” His voice is uncharacteristically strained. “It complicates things for me.”
My breathing is shallow. There is a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, a cold wind running through my chest. “I saw the words Anam-Cridech on the pages you burned. Is that the name of the bond?”
“Yes. That is one name for it.”
“What is the other?”
His eyes bore into mine, dark and intense. “You already know.”
I shake my head. “I do not.”
“You do. A part of you knows. A part of you has always known. Just like, deep down, Callum knows. Just like I have always known.”
My heartbeat thunders in my ears. “Tell me.”
He twists his hands together. His lips part. “You’ll have to figure it out for yourself, little rabbit. It looks like our time together is coming to an end.”
I turn, just as the door opens. Lochlan enters the room, flanked by four of his men. A half-laugh escapes Blake’s lips as he stands. “Really, Lochlan? You?”
“It’s nothing personal, Blake.” His kohl-lined eyes glint with violence, and belie his statement. I think he’s worried about what Blake might do to Kai. “I have orders from the king. You are sentenced to imprisonment for plotting against the throne. Are you going to come peacefully?”
A dimple punctures Blake’s cheek as he edges back a step. “I know Callum has told you I’m not to be harmed.”
“He thought you might say that,” says Lochlan. “He wants you to know that you’ve shown your hand. You’ve lost. We can hurt you, if we wish.”
Blake laughs. It’s a cold, contrived sound that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. A couple of the men share a look. He shrugs. “Very well. Let me grab my shirt.”
Lochlan inclines his head. Blake grabs his shirt from the armchair and slips it on. I step away from him, and my back hits the wall by the fireplace. I tense as I wait for him to grab a sword and start fighting, or grab me to use me as leverage to get out of the situation. He fastens his buttons, then slips on his boots.
Lochlan gestures at him, and two of the men grab Blake’s arms and pull them roughly behind his back. They slip shackles around his wrists, and the click resounds around his chambers. He doesn’t resist.
They walk him toward the door, and he stops in front of Lochlan. “Will you give Callum a message from me?” Lochlan nods, and Blake’s lips curve into a wicked smile. “He has not seen my hand yet. He doesn’t even know what game we’re playing. Come visit me when you’ve figured it out, little rabbit. I’ll wait for you.”
He’s hauled out of the room.
Lochlan inclines his head. “Good evening, Princess.”
He follows his men, and Blake, into the corridor.
I’m left dumbfounded, staring at the door.