Chapter 14
Chapter
Fourteen
We got home late, after Mirabel promised to come first thing Monday morning to help organize the duets. I was feeling like I’d walked into a den of lions and miraculously walked out again, but I was missing a few essential organs. Namely my heart.
I was almost to the cottage when something blurred in the shadows. It was some kind of projectile, but the moon glinted on it enough to know that it was aiming at my bodyguard instead of me. Finally, someone was serious about this assassination.
I leg-swept Mitt down and then dissolved into shadows exactly how my guardian had taught me so painstakingly, coming together directly behind the goblin who’d shot the silver bullet.
I sank my teeth into his neck, drinking his blood and his thoughts like moldy gruel.
Goblin was one of my least favorite blood types, and it didn’t offer much in the way of nourishment, but that was made up for by the knowledge.
My victim was part of an attack by a unified band of goblin assassins from across the world, where they intended to disappear after their mission so the Goblin King didn’t catch them.
The castle was surrounded by woods with a secure perimeter kept by one of the most terrifying angel companies. The goblins had dropped in from above, high enough to avoid detection from the angel patrollers, so very, very high. The goblin’s ears still hurt from the jump in.
There were seven goblins total, four here to take out me and my bodyguards, and three to go kill the angel.
Panic had me snapping his neck before I turned to the next threat. I was breath and shadows, also fangs, because I needed to make sure I had the number and position of the goblins right. I snapped that one, and then Mitt was there to take care of the others.
I left my not-a-bodyguard, and moved without weight or speed, and then I was there, on the goblin outside of the castle, beneath the hall window just outside Richard’s quarters.
I drained the goblin while I sorted through his memories. One goblin would be in the hall above, and the last one should be close to his target. Richard. He’d bound himself to my vulnerability, and now he would die for his stupidity.
I snapped the goblin’s neck and then clawed my way up the wall, dissolved myself through the window and came together behind the hall goblin.
He made a noise before I snapped him. Or her.
I didn’t stop and check genders. At any rate, the noise alerted the last goblin who was in Richard’s room.
I willed myself to the last goblin assassin, smoke and pain, but he cut me back with his poisoned blade.
I hissed and grabbed him, burying my fangs in him while he struggled.
We stumbled over the red floral rug, knocking into an enormous bed with white drapings over the top. It was a lovely bed, just needed some adorable woodland animals…Nope, there was Stew, the gray rabbit on the pillow, chewing on a carrot. Had anything been more adorable?
The goblin slashed me with his knife again while I tried to drain him, but I’d drunk too many goblins tonight, and with Stew, my focus was diluted.
The goblin pulled me around and then I got a glimpse through the open bathroom door of Richard lounging in a copper tub, steam swirling up above his glorious tan shoulders.
His hair was dark and damp, with a slight curl, but his wings were missing.
Where were his wings? He must have glamoured them away or magicked them gone temporarily.
Unless binding to me made his wings fall out.
No, his back was smooth, silky-looking, and so incredibly muscular as he shifted and then pushed himself up to standing, so I got to see the entire glorious silhouette of him from the side as he stretched his hand to grab a towel.
Nothing had ever been so perfectly beautiful. Every muscle in his outstretched arm was perfection, life, ecstasy. And the line of his hip, the taper of his waist, the arch of his back…
The goblin stabbed me deep in the stomach, breaking Richard’s spell.
What was I doing?! He couldn’t catch me here lurking in his bedroom like a creeper.
And I’d been staring like a pervert. And he’d been the most glorious and unforgettable piece of perfection that I’d never be able to forget.
Panic gave me strength. I snapped the goblin’s neck, and then carried him into the hall, tripped on the other body, and then dragged both of them to the window.
I shoved them out and let them fall on top of the goblin at the base.
I leaned out, trying to get a good grip to follow them down, but instead of grace and smoke, I fell face-first, landing on a pile of corpses and feeling like death.
Channeling smoke and stealing thoughts wasn’t the best thing for my overall health and happiness. Neither was goblin blood. Or goblin poison.
I groaned as I pulled out the knife still stuck in my stomach and frowned at the blade.
Goblin poison was terrible. That’s why I rolled over and threw up.
Throwing up goblin blood was five times worse than drinking it in the first place, and it wasn’t my favorite.
This whole experience was so perfectly on-brand with my pastel princess.
I should take some selfies so I could share them with my millions of followers.
#Living my best life! #PastelPrincessForever!
What I needed was heavenly fire to burn out the poison and the goblins, and especially the vomit.
And then I needed to wash my hair. My perfect ringlets were perfectly ghastly.
Could I summon heavenly fire? I knew the theory, but only an idiot would summon something they couldn’t control.
I couldn’t die because that would kill Richard, so heavenly fire it was.
We’d get to see what happened. If it did kill me, then he’d deserve dying.
A flash of memory, water droplets sliding down golden skin, arm reaching out, body so perfectly everything had me hyperventilating. No, that was the poison. It was fast-moving, so I had to be as well.
I summoned the heavenly fire. Nothing happened. Okay then. I guess I’d just die in this pile of bodies and vomit.
A sudden rush and crackle rolled over me as heavenly flames devoured the bodies and the vomit. My arm ached where the binding was under my skin, but otherwise, it felt so good. Hot, like when they heat the stones in the spa and put them all over your skin. Clean, clarifying, pure. But hot.
The flames went out as soon as they started, leaving me in a pile of ashes entirely naked.
I had time to freak out about if the angel stuck his head out the window and saw me like this before Mitt threw his shirt over me and I pulled my arms through it with trembling limbs.
The rush, the panic, all of it was fading, leaving me shaking and horrified.
My assassins were targeting my angel! I had to tell him so he could get more guards.
Mitt picked me up and carried me through the woods, his long stride eating up the distance.
“Who’s the bodyguard?” he muttered.
I struggled in his arms. “Not you. You’ve told me a million times that you aren’t a bodyguard.”
He rumbled a growl but didn’t say anything until we got to my cottage. I went inside and pushed him out when he tried to follow.
“I’m fine. I burned the poison out with heavenly fire. I just need to be alone.”
He frowned at me for a long moment before he shrugged, stepping back and letting me be alone to collapse into a heap of self-pity and misery all by myself. “Burning poison with heavenly fire’s a neat trick.”
I pressed my lips together so I didn’t sob.
“Yep. I’m probably going to sleep for the rest of the weekend.
” The darkness and despair were gathering around me, whispering of the inevitability of failure, death, and misery.
I was born a monster, and nothing would ever change that.
Except that now I’d also take the angel with me.
I was worthless and everyone hated me. I’d never find love or deserve it. I never should have let the show happen, it was cruel to expose others to me and the monster that I was. I wasn’t really a pastel princess. I was a depressed gothic vamp with bad hair.
And the whole binding thing was just the cherry on top. Why would Richard do that? He needed to know that I wasn’t worth protecting, but he saw the best in me, and would die because of it.
I covered all the windows in my darkest blankets and threw myself across the bed, wanting to disappear.
Did I cry? Of course not. I sobbed and bawled, but nothing so pretty as tears.
I cried filled with self-loathing and hatred that my therapist would make me talk through so I could see that the thoughts weren’t really mine, and I didn’t actually think that everyone would be better off without me and want me to disappear forever, but my therapist wasn’t there, so I got to drown in my misery until I fell asleep.
Maybe I passed out from the goblin poison.
Either way, I didn’t wake up until the light coming through the edges of my dark pink blanket was golden afternoon. Sunday afternoon? Saturday?
I felt hollow in the middle, apathetic, which seemed better than the misery, but if I went too long with that, it would take forever to get back to normal.
I needed to wash my face, put on a happy face and a pretty dress, and do some actual pastel princess shots.
Even though I didn’t care, I would eventually. Maybe.
I pushed myself up from my bed and felt heavy, slow, lethargic. I slithered to the edge of the bed and then stood up. The funny thing is that when I stood up, the weight on my upper back pulled me over so I sprawled back on my mattress.
I froze there, feeling like a bug on its back. Weight on my back? Why would I have weight on my back?