Chapter 37 #2
The skin had completely split, the wound so deep that there was exposed bone. Blood poured from the gash, leaking down my forearm in a consistent flow.
The adrenaline from the fall wore off, and I started to feel how painful the injury was. I put pressure on it with my hand, but the blood seeped through the cracks of my fingers.
I toyed with the idea of going to the infirmary, but King Hawthorne would have a conniption if I didn't show up to the armoring ceremony. Hopefully I could find Pia before it began. She would be able to heal the gash enough to cease the bleeding. I’d deal with the rest of it after.
Using my free arm, I pushed off of the step to stand up straight. I kept my hand tightly against my elbow and started down the hallway towards the door, much slower than before.
“Are you alright?” A man's voice stopped me in my tracks.
I looked over my shoulder at a sturdy, light-haired soldier standing at the bottom of the staircase. Caelestian armor covered his abdomen, and though I didn't recognize his face, his voice sounded familiar.
He pointed at my arm.
I turned fully to face him. “I’m okay. I just tripped.”
He cocked his head towards my injury. “It looks pretty bad. There's blood dripping on your dress.”
I glanced down at my gown, the black fabric appearing even darker from the blood saturating it. “My friend can heal it.”
He nodded slowly, his boots scraping the cement as he took a step towards me. “You're a first year, right? I think I’ve seen you around.”
I briefly glanced back at the door. There wasn't time to chat, but I also didn't want to be rude. “Yes. I’m Maeve.”
“Calvin,” he introduced himself with a smile.
“It's nice to meet you, Calvin, but I have to go before I miss the ceremony.”
I started to turn from him, but he took another hasty step, flashing me the back of his hand. His amethyst stone glistened from the flames that burned in the lanterns on the wall. “I can heal you.”
For a fraction of a second, I considered it, but my pulse quickened as he stared at me. He didn't blink—just watched my blood drip into a puddle on the floor.
“Thanks for the offer, but I really should go.” I made haste, strutting for the door as fast as possible without making it obvious that I was trying to get away from him. My hand locked around the door handle, but it pulled me in as it was opened for me.
Lucan entered the corridor, a smile splayed on his face. I backed up into the corridor and he pushed the door closed, leaning his back against it.
“Hello, Maeve.”
“Hi,” I said blandly. What was he doing in the soldiers’ quarters?
“How are you?”
“I’ve been better…clearly.” I flashed him my elbow, then raised an eyebrow. “Shouldn't you be at the ceremony?”
“Yes, I should be.” Lucan raised a hand to his mouth, faking a cough. “Unfortunately I am too ill to attend.”
I glanced back to see if Calvin had left, then swallowed down a knot in my throat when I saw that he was still there, guarding the staircase and leaving me with no escape route.
Dread plummeted through me.
I suddenly found myself very grateful that Sebastian convinced me to take my dagger.
Lucan noticed my breathing quicken. “Relax,” he said.
“What the hell is this?” I snarled, glaring at the king's advisor.
Lucan pushed his glasses higher on his nose, then in sync with Calvin, closed in on me.
“No need to worry.” He raised his hands in surrender, his voice lacking emotion. “I just have a message for you.” On his toes, he peered over my shoulders and granted the man behind me a singular nod.
Without warning, hard leather kicked the back of my knee. Somehow I kept my hand pressed on my wound when I collapsed onto my shin, cursing as my bone collided with the cement.
The bruise was already forming—I could tell by the ache that shot up my thigh as I tried to stand.
I didn't get very far.
Calvin’s arms shot out from behind me. His hand secured the back of my neck and he pushed me down. He held me on my knees with his full weight, and though I tried to wriggle free, he was too strong.
I stilled my body, quickly realizing that I should reserve every ounce of energy that I could.
Lucan spoke again, “King Beaumont would like to personally extend you an offer.”
I stifled a laugh of disbelief. “If he wanted to get a message to me, why is he having you deliver it and not King Hawthorne like he has every other time?”
Lucan stared at me, emotionless as he ignored my question. “The king of Draemor would like to give you one more chance to turn yourself over to him, promising safety for yourself and your loved ones if you accept and cooperate under his reign.”
I couldn't help but snicker at the offer. “I thought Beaumont no longer wanted me.”
“You thought wrong.”
“Does King Hawthorne know you're trying to seduce me into abandoning Caelestis?” I smirked, adding a wink to really tweak him.
Big mistake.
My sarcasm granted me another kick from the solid sole of Calvin’s boot, this time in the middle of my back.
“Ow, asshole. What the hell?” I cursed at the soldier behind me.
“King Hawthorne is not aware of this transaction,” Lucan said.
“Okay, hold on. I don't understand.” My head shook as much as was possible with the hand squeezing my neck. “How do you even know all of this then?”
My thoughts jumbled as I thought back to when Sebastian and I found Lucan in the king's study. He seemed like he was lying, but with everything else that was thrown at us that day, I had forgotten all about it.
Wait.
My mouth fell agape as reality dawned on me. I knew Calvin’s voice sounded familiar.
“Holy shit,” I muttered under my breath, glancing between the two men above me. “You were the two we overheard in the archives?”
“Took you long enough,” the soldier sneered. He moved his hand from my neck to grasp a hold of my hair, pulling my head back so that I could see Lucan better.
“You're the one who's been telling Beaumont about me?” I snarled the question, though I didn't need to ask for confirmation. “You've been selling me out for months!”
“I cannot take all of the credit.” Lucan shrugged, turning his back to me.
“I've had plenty of help along the way. Though many of them were not cunning enough to avoid execution. The Fletcher boy, for example.” He paraded around the corridor.
“Calvin here, however, has been quite useful. One of the last standing.”
I adjusted the grip on my elbow, pain searing up my arm as my palm skimmed my bare bone. “Why?” I snarled.
“Why?” Lucan scoffed. “Cyprian has offered me more than Aldous ever could. When I am successful with my quest, he promises to have me rule beside him.”
“As what? Another king's bitch?”
Calvin yanked my neck back by a fistful of my hair. “Watch your mouth,” he hissed.
Lucan's jaw ticked, but he continued his explanation. “Cyprian vowed that if I bring you to him before the prophecy is complete, that I can expect a reward of the highest honor.”
In the midst of my shock, I bit my tongue. “How does he even know of the prophecy? How do you know about it?”
Lucan cleared his throat and crouched in front of me, putting his face in line with mine. “Tell me, Maeve, how do you sleep?”
“What?”
“Are you prone to nightmares?”
I scoffed with a shake of my head.
“You enjoy journaling, is that correct?”
I didn't answer until my scalp burned as my hair was tugged once more. “Fucking hell,” I swore in pain. “Yes. Why?”
“I should be thanking you, because all of your pathetically sad admissions and shredded book pages have been quite helpful in this process.” Lucan shook his head in false disappointment. “You should know better than to write things on paper that you wish to keep private.”
My expression turned dull. He found my journal entries? I had written everything down on those loose pages of parchment. Everything. “When I saw you in the soldiers’ quarters, before the winter gala, you were going to break into my room?”
“Goodness no. I would never invade a young woman's privacy like that.” He glanced up. “Calvin however does not uphold the same moral standards. It was quite easy for someone so charming to convince a house maiden to create him a master key. When you moved to the soldiers’ quarters, it got even easier for him. He even helped you pack. How kind.”
I was lost for words, remembering the way my papers were crumpled when I first moved rooms—like someone had looked through them.
Lucan rose to his feet. “Prince Hawthorne, huh?” He leaned back against the wall. “Never would have expected that. Does his father know? I can't imagine that would go over well.”
Rampant palpitations took over the normal rhythm of my heart.
“What were you doing in the king's study when we found you?” I asked, knowing damn well he wasn't gathering data. “You said you were going to see the duke when you left, but Duke Sinclair was at the meeting in the throne room…you weren’t.”
“Funny you should ask. That actually had to do with you! What are the odds?” Lucan responded facetiously.
“I was planning to leave him some evidence of your failure to wield—glad to see you're gaining some weight back, by the way—in hopes that Aldous would just hand you over. But you and your boyfriend interrupted me. I planned to go back at a later time, but decided it was too risky after you two saw me.”
“So why would you give me Ridgeroot at the trials if you were just going to try and get King Hawthorne to hand me over?”
“Because you very well would have died at the trials without the Ridgeroot, and then you would have been of no use to anyone.”
“Huh. Well, you may be interested to know that I never even took the damn capsule. I’m no cheater,” I spat.
“My dear, utilizing your resources is not cheating. But I suppose maybe you aren't as weak as I thought. Although I would have expected someone with power such as yours to have won their first trial. Never mind that now, though.”
“What do you want from me?” I asked again, anger coating my tongue like sap.
“I already told you.”