Chapter 11
“Is he gone?” I whisper through the crack in the door.
Isolde’s attendant nods, her eyes somewhere distant as she eases the door open. Lines of salt trail down her cheeks—dry tears. “It was awful.”
I’m lucky all the attendants admire Isolde, otherwise I probably wouldn’t get away with sneaking into her quarters so often.
If any of them have put it together that we’re lovers, they pretend otherwise.
Out the window, moonlight reflects off the snowcapped mountains. It’s been hours since Caelus caught Isolde with me, but this is the first time it’s been safe for me to sneak into her quarters. My stomach clenches at the closed door leading to her bedroom. “Is she awake?”
“Barely. He suffocated her over and over again—stealing the air from her lungs until she was on the brink of passing out.”
I waver, but steady myself and grind my teeth. He’s beaten her plenty, but this is new—using her own power against her.
If he knew it was me, and not her attendant, that cleans her up after his punishments, he’d be sure I’m never seen again.
“How long will he be gone?”
The attendant inches closer to the servant’s door, her hand eager on the doorknob. After what she’s seen, she’s probably desperate to get away. “An hour, at least.”
With that, she slips through the hidden door and shuts it behind her with a soft click. Silence settles over the space, and a slight whimper comes from the bedroom.
I steel my spine. For years, Caelus has been carrying out the most horrific acts on Isolde, and I’ve learned I only make it worse if I cry when I see what he’s done. I have to be strong, for her.
Blowing out a breath, I push open her bedroom door.
The iron tang of blood thickens the air. I swallow a gasp as I find her sitting on the mattress, her legs curled against her chest and head bowed against her knees.
Her back is to me, and I count the raw welts crisscrossing her shoulders and spine. Thick blood seeps from the deepest of the wounds and clots in her hair, turning the blonde curls a muddy brown.
She shudders a breath and straightens, wincing as the movement pulls her skin.
“Isolde.” My voice is a whisper—one I’m unsure she heard as I cross the room and fall to my knees in front of her.
Her body is bare, save for the bruises marring her arms and peppering her legs. Marks that clothing will hide. She lifts her head, and her swollen, bloodshot eyes meet mine as she opens her mouth.
All that comes out is a hoarse wheeze.
I fight back tears. “Did he crush your vocal cords?”
She nods.
Bile rises up my throat. He’s done that before, to stop her from screaming in pain after a handful of advisors overheard her cries for help. I ache to run back to my room, slide the dagger from under my mattress, and hunt Caelus down—peel the skin from his bones.
I reach up to brush her hair out of her face, but she flinches back, trembling. Her body is in shock, but if I don’t clean her wounds, infection might take over. And while Caelus wouldn’t let her die, he’d let her suffer.
But she’s in no position to be standing.
I stand and lean against the mattress. “I’m going to pick you up, okay?”
A quiet sob wracks her shoulders, but she manages a weak nod. Careful not to press on any of the bruises, I slide one of my arms under her legs, and thread her arm across my shoulders.
I suck in a shallow breath and hesitate.
I can’t pick her up without pressing my arm against her welts, but I have no other choice.
Weaving my arm around her back, I press lightly.
Her mouth bursts open in a silent scream, fresh tears streaming down her face as I lift her and cradle her against my chest.
“I’m so sorry.” My words are garbled through tears as her blood seeps down my arm and drips to the stone floor. The apology isn’t so much for the agonizing pain I’m causing, but that she was caught in the conservatory in the first place.
I should have never agreed to it.
She clings to my neck, burying her face against my collarbone as I lean over the tub and start the water. It rushes out of the faucet, filling the basin to a lukewarm temperature, and I ease her in.
Her hands don’t leave my neck. I lower to my knees beside her, and she presses her forehead to mine. She winces, and her breaths come out in shallow pants, but the tension eases from her shoulders, her body relaxing into the water.
“I’m here,” I whisper, pressing myself from the edge of the tub.
I open the cabinet, grabbing a washrag and a bar of herbal soap I paid the healer for. It’s seen far too many uses—worn down to a sliver—but it’s medicinal and will help numb her pain and speed the healing process.
Turning back to Isolde, I cradle her chin with my hand and dip the rag in the water. Her lids are heavy, but her eyes meet mine, and a string of muddled words comes from her mouth.
“What was that?” I drag the rag over the back of her head, washing out the caked blood.
“You came.”
My hand pauses at her temple. “Of course I did.”
Her gaze softens, and she lifts her hand from the water, running her thumb across my palm. “Of course you did.”
A shadow passes over her face, and even if she could elaborate, she doesn’t need to. I’ve heard enough about her past to know that she’s never had anyone she could rely on. Everyone she’s ever known has taken advantage of her or used her for her power. Her mother, her brothers, Caelus.
Something shifts in my chest. It cracks—a hairline fissure in the wall I’ve built around my heart since I became cursed. I’ve never known a life where I haven’t had my crew behind me, ready to support me in everything I do.
Isolde only has me.
I weave our fingers together. “I’ll always come.”
She closes her eyes, and despite the pain in her back, a smile pulls at her lips.
A comfortable silence settles between us, and I gently work the medicinal soap onto her skin. Her hands stop trembling, and I drain the tub, rinsing her with fresh water.
She opens her mouth, as if to speak, but I shake my head. “Save your strength.”
Tears well in her eyes, but they’re no longer ones borne from pain. They’re open, trusting. Vulnerable. I offer her a hand, and she eases herself out of the tub. The welts on her back are still deep and swollen, but the soap has cleared the worst of it.
I pull a towel from the hook and wrap it around her, careful not to press too hard on her back and bruises. She melts into me, and I cup the back of her head, pressing her ear against my heartbeat. The way she held me when she saved me from Dyerson.
We stand for a moment, our breathing synced, steam curling off the curve of her shoulders. If I could, I’d pause time—make it so that we can exist in this moment together. Come tomorrow, when The Gales begins, everything will change.
I press a kiss to her forehead. “Let’s get you to bed.”
The rest of the words go unsaid. Before Caelus comes back.
Leading her into the bedroom, I fish an oversized shirt from her armoire and ease it onto her body. Exhaustion weighs at her eyelids, and wordlessly, she crawls onto the mattress and sinks her head onto a pillow.
Within moments, her breathing deepens.
I lean over the bed and comb her damp curls away from her face. Ten years ago, I had heard of the Sky Court’s strength. How Queen Isolde ruled with insurmountable power—strength that intimidated even my mother. She was known to be fearless, unforgiving.
But here, asleep, she’s fragile. Not weak—never weak. There’s a peacefulness to her, one that I wish I could bottle and save for moments when she’s on the brink of breaking.
A light knock comes from the door, and her attendant peers in. “Caelus will be back soon.”
“Thank you.” I trail my fingertips over Isolde’s cheekbone and ease the sheets over her before leaving the room.
“Is she going to be okay?” the attendant says.
I nod, pulling the door to the bedroom shut. “She’s strong.”
“Strong enough to take the punishment for two.”
My steps falter, and I freeze at the door leading into the hallway. “Excuse me?”
The attendant wrings her hands and shuffles on her feet, unable to meet my eyes.
“When it started, Caelus said he was going to drag you in there with her, since he found you two together. But the queen insisted it was her who invited you there, so she begged him to spare you. She took her beating as well as yours.”
Tears blur my vision as I glance at her closed bedroom door. I can’t even begin to imagine the agony she faced over the last few hours, all for a handful of stolen kisses. She endured twice the pain, for me.
I can’t tell her that I’ve entered The Gales. It’s too much of a burden for her to carry—too high a risk of something like this happening again. If I’m caught, or anyone were to find out she was involved, Caelus would do unimaginable things to her.
I have to keep her safe, and I can’t do that if she’s constantly worried about me.
Swallowing, I wrap my hand around the doorknob and crack it open. “Check on her for me, please?”
“Of course, Briar.”
Stepping into the hallway, I let out a shallow, rattled breath.
Tomorrow, The Gales begin. And if I die, there will be no one to take care of Isolde.