Chapter 11
Chapter
I pray she never bears witness to the things
I am capable of imagining on her behalf.
Thoren steps into the checkered hall with far more vigor than I had hoped to see. His nose is fixed on the high-beamed ceilings as he scratches the exposed skin beneath his ruby red cufflinks.
For a split second, I think I’ve gone unnoticed. My slender figure is tucked closely behind Xander, hidden in the dim light of a half-lit sconce. And like the fool I am, I step away from the safety of my brother’s shadow, right into the prince’s reach.
Before the scream can erupt from my lips, his hands are on me, pinning me to the cold damp walls.
“You get off on making me jealous, don’t you, Beastie?”
My pulse hammers in my ears as fear gives way to anger. “There is nothing I enjoy when it comes to you, Thoren,” I bite out. But all I have to sink my teeth into is the bitter taste of regret, as Thoren’s surprise is a short lived victory.
With a crooked smile, he fists the crest hanging loose around my neck, pulling me taut until I can feel the heat of his breath on my lips. I try to fold mine in, but with his other hand, he tugs my bottom lip free. His chest rises and falls as I tremble beneath his touch.
“God, I love it when you misuse that pretty little mouth of yours.” He breathes out, dragging the tip of his nose along my tear-stained cheek.
“Now, I get to remind you of its purpose.” I seal my eyes shut, tensing in preparation for the pain I know is soon to follow, for the moment his teeth sink into the fat flesh of my lip, hard enough to draw blood.
“Your pain is my pleasure. And these lips were created to please.” I wince at the memory of his words as they bleed into existence.
“Get your hands off of her, you demented fuck,” Xander seethes, but his warning only drives the prince closer, until his hot breath is on the shell of my ear.
“Tell that sackless brother of yours to back off, or the feisty little surprise I bought for you loses more than just her memories.” I shake my head, looking to Xander for a way out when I notice he hasn’t raised a hand.
Or drawn his blade. The only time he’s ever held back from a fight was with Father, when Ella…
I draw in a breath at the very same time Thoren’s lips quirk into a grin. She’s the surprise.
“You bought—”
The prince smothers my question beneath his palm, the metal of his spider ring cold against my lips. “Ah, ah, ah.” He shushes me, half amused. “That’s our little secret.”
I peer past the prince’s shoulder, watching the torment unfold across my brother’s features. The look in his eyes, one I’ve seen before, is pure murder.
I don’t have much time before he loses his restraint, but I need to know. “Tell me why, and I’ll agree to keep it.”
Thoren’s mouth twists into a wicked sneer, my family’s pain little more than a consolation prize in his wicked games. “Let’s just call it insurance.”
“If this is because of what you saw in the hall, I promise it isn’t necessary. I’m not going to run.”
Thoren lets out a bitter laugh. “As if you could. We both know I’d hunt you down before your feet left the castle grounds.”
“Charming!” My brother’s voice cracks against the crumbling walls at my back. The vibrations send a few dislodged pebbles to the ground.
My eyes blow wide as a heavy piece of stone barely misses our heads.
“Tick-tock,” Thoren whispers.
“Please?” I beg, prying at the fingers tightening around my throat.
Xander draws the blade from its sheath.
“Time’s up, beastie.”
Forgive me, brother. “Stop!” I scream.
Xander freezes, the tip of his sword inches away from cutting the prince’s devilish grin clean off his face.
“Sunday?” Confusion flickers in his eyes.
“Please, just…stop.” I beg.
Xander hesitates a beat before lowering his blade.
“I’ll be okay. Remember?” I repeat his words back to him, encouraging him to go.
He tilts his head the way he does when he’s about to argue, but the prince tosses him a cat-like smile over his shoulder. “Don’t you have a missing maiden to find?”
That strikes a nerve. My brother’s eyes cut to me, his hand hovering just above his blade, waiting for permission.
I shake my head. His mouth parts in reply, but he doesn’t argue. He doesn’t reach back for his blade. Instead, he simply nods. Then turns and walks away. Leaving me well and truly alone with this monster.
I look to Father’s chamber and notice the open door.
But where is Father?
Where is the dark knight?
The prince drags his thumb across where his teeth have carved my lips, patting my cheek with his blood-covered hand when a dark figure shifts behind him.
It’s all I can do not to scream as a large hand reaches from behind the prince, yanking him away with enough force that he falls to the floor. But he doesn’t stop there. Before Thoren can even roll to his side, the hooded figure sends his black boot into his stomach.
I wince, pressing myself back into the cold stone wall, struggling to make sense of the scene laid out before me. Somehow, the masked knight of Castle Ruin is now standing over a dazed princeling, whose violent coughs are absolutely going to draw attention.
“You need to leave.” I hurry between the two men before Thoren can get a good look at the knight. As fond as Father might be of him, there is nothing he could do if the prince called for his head. “Now.”
Frog’s eyes darken. “You’re bleeding.”
My tongue darts out and sure enough, my lips are wet with the metallic taste of blood. “It’s nothing.” I shrug, swiping it away with the thick woolly cloak hanging over me.
A cloak that belongs to him.
Oh my God. “I’m still wearing your cloak.”
“You are.” He nods slowly, oblivious to the dire situation my carelessness has put us in.
I chance a look over my shoulder where Thoren still holds his stomach, and lower my voice. “I am wearing your cloak, and he saw me wearing your cloak.”
Frog’s brows climb as he pieces it together.
“Take this and leave.” I slide the cloak free from my shoulders and thrust it into the knight’s arms, my eyes pleading for him to go.
Behind me, I hear the prince already staggering to his feet.
In one swift move, the knight drops his cloak and ushers me behind him. I try to get between them, but the knight’s arm swings out, blocking my way.
If only he knew he’s just delaying the inevitable.
I huff, peering around his large form, expecting to find the prince’s features pinched with rage, his fists bound tight. Instead I find something far more unsettling.
Thoren stands before us, smiling. Every pearly white tooth is bared in a grin that never reaches his eyes. A deep, bone-rattling laugh tears from his throat, ricocheting off the crumbling walls.
I shrink in the knight’s shadow, willing my stiffened limbs to move. To reach for the reprieve of the castle’s darkened, windy halls. But my mind remains a prison, and I haven’t got the key.
Maybe I’ll get lucky and he’ll fall onto the dark knight’s sword. But just as my hopes stand at the precipice of new heights, the laughter stops. And once again I am at the heart of cruelty’s attention.
I dare to meet Thoren’s eyes, searching for any trace of reason that may linger somewhere within their amber depths. But they are just as hollow as the first time I saw them all those years ago. Devoid of feeling. Merciless.
The only difference now? His hatred wears a smile.
“I wouldn’t get too attached to this one, Beastie.” He shakes a finger at Frog. “Or, do.” He smiles, his lingering gaze suggestive. “’Tis not my heart that will be left broken.”