26. Touch Her Again and Die
Touch Her Again and Die
Remme
T he crash of shattering porcelain reverberates through the grand ballroom, drawing my attention as a hush falls over the assembled guests. Near the back, a young woman scrambles to her feet amidst the debris, jewels spilling from her skirts in a telltale spray. A thief from the guild, no doubt - bold enough to attempt such a brazen heist here, tonight.
As she flees, weaving through the throngs of outraged nobility, I catch the eye of my bodyguard Sophia. A silent look is all it takes; she gives a sharp nod and moves to pursue the would-be criminal, flanked by two of my palace guards. They'll see her captured and brought to the dungeons for interrogation.
I scan the crowd, searching for a familiar curtain of golden locks amidst the milling guests. But Scarlet seems to have already departed in the wake of the disturbance, whisking herself away before I could seek her out. Disappointment settles in my chest, an emotion as novel as it is unwelcome. I had hoped to...what? Continue our earlier banter? Unravel more of the mystery she keeps so craftily veiled?
With a frustrated huff, I turn on my heel, striding for the grand entrance. Let the nobility sort out their disarray; I've more pressing matters demanding my attention. But I've barely made it through the ornate double doors when a woman's scream slices through the clamor, raw and laced with panic.
My steps falter as every ingrained instinct urged me toward the sound. I change course, following the commotion out a side corridor and around a corner.
The sight that greets me has my blood boiling in righteous fury.
Scarlet huddles against the wall, back pressed to the intricately carved wainscoting as she fends off the looming threat of a man twice her size, Lord Greystone. His meaty fists are clenched at his sides as he leans over her, features twisted into an ugly mask of rage.
"You'll get those high-minded notions under control," he snarls, flecks of spittle flying from his twisted mouth, "or so help me, I'll beat the obstinance out of you once and for all!"
With a harsh shove, he sends Scarlet crashing back against the wall, her head connecting with the wood paneling in a sickening thump. She crumples towards the floor, only to be hauled back up by her hair, a low moan of pain escaping her lips.
It's that broken, helpless sound that detonates every last shred of restraint within me.
"Ler her go," I growl, the command dripping with lethal promise as I stalk forward. "Now."
The man freezes, his beady eyes going wide with shock and dawning horror as he finally registers my presence. Scarlet sags in his grip, dazed and shaking, as he whips around to face me fully.
"Y-Your Majesty!" he sputters, hastily releasing his brutal hold and attempting to straighten to a properly obsequious stance. "F-Forgive me, I meant no disrespect. I was merely...instructing my betrothed on the boundaries of her position."
He juts his chin towards Scarlet, still hunched against the wall in obvious pain. "You understand how these...spirited birds require the occasional firm hand, yes? A man must keep his woman in line when her fancies grow too lofty."
Loathing courses through me at his sneering, utterly unrepentant words. This ingrate dares invoke my understanding over brutalizing the very woman who has captivated my interest with her poise and courage? My fingers itch to unleash my curse upon his despicable form and rob the world of his stain.
But even as that virulent impulse blazes hot, pragmatism smothers it. I cannot afford for Scarlet to discover the truth of my curse, not when she could well be the key to breaking it. Not when she remains the sole object of my obsession.
Reining in my anger with an effort that leaves me physically shaking, I level the man with a look of pure, unvarnished disgust.
"You mistake my indulgences, sir," I bite out from between clenched teeth. "While a firm hand is occasionally required to guide the steps of the unruly, what I just witnessed was the behavior of a base coward striking out at his defenseless subordinate. It won't be tolerated, certainly not in my presence."
My gaze slides to Scarlet, now hunched against the wall with her knees drawn up in front of her. Her eyes shine with unshed tears of defiance and humiliation as she stares resolutely ahead, refusing to meet my assessing look.
Guilt lances through me at having been the unintended audience to her mistreatment and loss of dignity. More than anything, I ache to reach out and offer her comfort, to let her know her suffering was not unseen nor unjustified.
But I cannot. A single graze of my skin against hers and she'd be forever lost to me, transmuted into an exquisite golden statue - beautiful yet unfeeling, immutable. As devastating as her plight is to witness, I cannot allow my selfish impulses to put her in jeopardy. Not until I find a way to finally break this godforsaken curse. Not until I find the thief.
Shoving down the maelstrom of emotions churning within, I round back on the blustering cretin who put her in such a state.
"Take your leave, sir," I growl, "before I summon the guards and have you forcibly removed in a manner befitting your appalling conduct."
For an endless, heated moment, his beady eyes lock with mine in a silent battle of wills. Every fiber of my being screams for action, to unleash the rage simmering low in my belly at his unforgivable offense.
At last, he gives a sullen little bow, insolence etched in every line of his coward's form. "As you command, Your Majesty." He sneers the title like a slur before slinking away down the corridor, leaving us mercifully alone.
Once he's vanished around the corner, I risk a glance back towards Scarlet. She hasn't moved from her crumpled position against the wall, her face a frozen mask of mortified fury. A blossom of mottled bruising already darkens the delicate skin of her cheekbone, stark against her pale complexion.
The urge to go to her side, to offer whatever paltry comfort I can despite my limitations, gnaws at me with relentless insistence. But I cannot - won't.
"That man had no right to lay his hands upon you in such a way," I murmur, keeping a careful distance as I study her shrouded form. "May I take you back to your dorms? If you need to see a royal physician I can also call one to your room as soon as we get back."
For a long moment, she remains resolutely still and silent, the strap of her gown slipping down one freckled shoulder in silent testament to the struggle she so recently endured. At last, a small sigh escapes her, and she straightens incrementally, still not meeting my concerned stare.
"I appreciate your... intervention, Your Majesty," she says, her voice hoarse yet measured despite her visible disquiet. "But I'm afraid my situation is not so easily extricated."
She fiddles with the rumpled fabric of her skirts, unwittingly drawing my gaze to the trellis of vivid blossoms twining her bare arms. Small scratches score the tender skin, no doubt from fending off her assailant's advances. My hands curl into helpless fists at my sides.
"That reprehensible excuse for a man..." I have to pause, forcing down the thunderous rage that clouds my vision at the mere thought of him. "He claims to be your betrothed. Is this what you want your life to be like?"
Her jaw works silently as she finally raises her haunted gaze to meet mine head-on. What I see burning in those turbulent blue-green depths lances straight through all my defenses - fear and resignation warring with naked longing. Longing for what, I cannot say.
"No," she says at last in a voice scarcely above a whisper. "It is not."
Those two words, spoken in such a soul-weary tone, reverberate through me like physical blows, each more devastating than the last. She does not want this promised union, that much is unmistakable. And whatever circumstance binds her to enduring such mistreatment clearly weighs heavily upon her spirit.
Instinctively, I take a half-step towards her, palms upturned in a silent entreaty for understanding. For trust. "If you would permit it, I can help you. You need not reside any longer under...his dominion."
Her mouth twists in a rueful, one-sided quirk of her lips. "You are gracious beyond measure to offer such haven, Your Majesty. But freedom is a luxury I cannot yet afford. My...situation remains unchanged, for the present."
The bitterness in her tone slices me to the core. To be bound to such hateful circumstances against one's will...
My jaw clenches hard enough to crack bone as I strive to project an aura of steady confidence, despite the maelstrom of useless rage swirling within. What is going on that she thinks this poor excuse of a human could fix whatever has her bound to this man that her king could not?
"Please let me take you back to your dorm, at the very least," I attempt a reassuring tone, hoping against hope that she'll take this final offered kindness. "It would set my mind at ease to ensure you arrive without any further...unpleasantries this night."
For an interminable stretch, she holds my gaze, weighing my words and the sincerity behind them. At last, giving the barest incline of her chin, she rises to her feet on legs that only tremble a little.
"Very well," she acquiesces in that same threadbare tone. "I would be...grateful for the escort, Your Majesty."
Suppressing my sigh of relief, I turn and begin retracing my path towards the entrance and the awaiting carriages beyond. From the corner of my eye, I track Scarlet's progress as she follows a respectful pace behind, back straight despite the ordeal she's clearly just endured.
My heart aches with useless outrage at the injustice of her circumstance. To be so strong and proud, yet still bound to the whims and cruelties of lesser men. Were I not so intimately acquainted with the crushing weight of forces beyond one's control, I might not recognize that subtle, telltale despondence lurking behind her eyes.
Sophia and the palace guards remain conspicuously absent from the entrance hall as we make our way through the vaulted space. No doubt they've already escorted the captured thief to the palace dungeons as I instructed.
At last, we step through the looming oak doors and out into the temperate spring night, the light illuminating Scarlet's striking presence in crisp detail. The dark blossom of bruising stands out in vivid relief against her fair complexion, the line of her jaw set in a defiant tilt.
A sleek, black town carriage awaits with its doors flung open in readiness, the driver eyeing our progress with polite disinterest. I turn back to Scarlet, gesturing for her to precede me up the carriage steps. For a fleeting instant, our gazes lock, a strange frisson seeming to shiver through the air between us.
"I feel I must reiterate my disgust over the treatment to which you were so unjustly subjected, Lady Scarlet," I murmur, holding her eyes with a weighted look. "No woman should suffer such degradation at the hands of her sworn protector. You have my deepest apologies that my presence brought you into the path of such indignity."
Her teeth sink into her full lower lip, worrying the tender flesh as she ponders my statement. At last, she seems to reach some internal decision, shoulders squaring beneath the thin straps of her gown.
"With respect, Your Majesty...you should reserve that censure for the true offender," she states, her tone hardening to adamant steel. "I am no shrinking blossom, easily cowed or abused. What you witnessed was but a temporary setback towards a cause I still endeavor to see realized."
That fierce, blazing look in her eyes sears straight into my soul, igniting answering embers of determination and...something far more primal that I dare not give name to. Here, bathed in moonlight and the faint glow of the carriage lamps, she appears well and truly formidable rather than fragile - a being of incandescent strength and conviction despite her evident trials.
Perhaps it's that undeniable force of presence that proves my undoing in that singular instant. Or maybe it's simply been far too long since I've glimpsed such vibrant, unapologetic intensity from one of my own subjects. But whatever the impetus, the words slip free before I can grab hold of my treacherous impulses.
"You are...captivating, my lady." The hushed utterance seems to reverberate through the stillness like shattering crystal. My jaw goes rigid, bracing for the inevitable censure over such an unforgivable breach of propriety. Particularly after having just been the audience to her mistreatment at the hands of another.
But Scarlet meets my gaze head-on, her expression revealing not outrage, but somber acceptance of the raw truth laid bare between us. "I somehow doubt Your Majesty is given to such...untoward flattery without underlying motive," she murmurs, watching me carefully through her lashes.
Her words slice through my conscience with unerring precision, every instinct screaming to cover my careless indiscretion with the usual dismissive prevarications. To preserve the pristine distance I've cultivated between myself and my subjects for fear of the horrors my accursed touch could inflict.
And yet, something in her guileless stare seems to strip away even those most ingrained defenses, leaving me raw and mercilessly, recklessly honest.
"You aren’t wrong," I admit in a rough tone, the compunction to lay my soul bare feeling very much like wrenching open a barely-healed wound. "I have not been afforded the luxury of...indulgence without intent in longer than I care to admit.”
Her lips part around an indrawn breath, whether in surprise or outrage I cannot say. Pressing my advantage while I still can, I close the remaining distance between us in two long strides, utterly heedless of the impropriety of such an overt advance.
I lean in close and speak in a low, intimate tone while looking into her eyes. "I'm not gonna lie to you and say sweet nothings, Scarlet. You've...captivated me in a way I didn't expect. I can't say if you meant to or not. But just know, I won't forget the fire I saw in you tonight anytime soon."
Her eyes widen fractionally at my emboldened admission. For a handful of suspended heartbeats, the night seems to still around us, the scented air crackling with some indescribable, perilous energy I have not felt in...longer than I dare recall.
At last, her tongue darts out to wet her lips in a gesture of unconscious invitation that sends a molten shock of yearning lancing through my entranced senses.
"Be careful with such words, Your Majesty," she cautions in a low, throaty tone rife with thinly veiled warning. "One would not wish for such indulgences to be...misinterpreted on false premises."
The inference hangs unvoiced between us, searing and unmistakable - a portent of entanglements yet unknown that could prove disastrous if mishandled.
Yet I cannot heed that voice of carefully cultivated restraint urging me back from this precipice. Some reckless part of me longs to careen over the edge into those perilous depths, drawn by the promise of true connection after so many years of deprivation.
"I assure you my regard is not lightly bestowed," I murmur, spearing her with an intent look that leaves no room for misapprehension. "Nor shall its implications escape me, however unanticipated they may have been. But fate does love a bit of...inadvertent meddling to set events askew from time to time, does it not?"
A daring smirk curves my lips as I drink in the picture she makes, bruised yet unbowed despite her circumstance. Beneath the gauzy layers of her gown, the flickering lamplight of the carriage sculpts every lush curve and dip of her form, fanning embers of desire I'd thought long since banked.
Scarlet’s gaze lands on my face. I can feel her calculating. But no words escape her lips. The carriage jostles as it runs over a loose cobblestone and she winces. It takes everything in me to not reach out and help her. Her pained eyes meet mine for a moment, and then turn away. I wish the gods were kind. I both wish and desperately hope that she is the thief who attempted to steal the crown. But if that were true, it could be both of our condemnation.