Chapter 48
I t was hours before she awoke, enough time for me to pen a letter to Iiro to open negotiations back up, something I would have hated myself for only the day before.
I handed the letter off to Taras, who had insisted on guarding the hallway himself. Koshka seized his opportunity to come back into my rooms, though he stopped short once he got to the bedroom, letting out an angry meow.
I shushed him, but allowed him to stay since he was unlikely to go anywhere near the source of his ire anyway.
Then I went to my desk where I stared at the same piece of parchment for hours, trying to think about anything but the girl in my bed who I had failed to protect, and the visceral panic that had ripped through me when I saw her bleeding in the courtyard.
It wasn’t supposed to be this way. She was only ever supposed to be a means to an end. Not?—
Meow.
Koshka stalked around the edge of the bed, eyeing the curls spilling over the side like they had come to do him personal harm. He would have fit in well with the dukes at the Summit. And half of Socair, for that matter.
Rowan stirred as the massive cat let out another meow. It wasn’t the first time she had moved. She had slept fitfully all night.
I massaged my bleary eyes, ready to plop the menace outside.
I felt it before I saw it, the hairs on my neck standing up like I was being watched. Not just sleeping fitfully this time, then.
As much as I had wanted her to wake up, I had given no real thought to what I would say when she did.
“It’s not polite to stare, Lemmikki,” I finally said, if only to break the tense hush that had fallen over the room, to incite her to say something that would let me know she hadn’t been irreparably broken on that flogging pole.
“You have a cat.” Her voice was like sandpaper scraping down my spine, a reminder of the shattered screams from only hours ago.
“The estate has a cat,” I corrected.
She made the mistake of trying to twist her head from her prone position, and a whimper escaped her, sending another unwelcome wave of guilt my way. I stayed in my seat, sure she wouldn’t appreciate my proximity when she was already in pain. Briefly, I wondered if I should have had Kirill sitting in here with her instead, or Yuriy.
“So that water bowl is for you, then?” she pressed, spotting the blanket and bowl I kept on the floor for Koshka.
I couldn’t help but feel a small bit of relief that she was joking, in spite of everything.
Not broken.
Hell, I had seen soldiers take far longer to even recover enough for a few words.
“You really shouldn’t waste your strength on talking,” I told her, leaning back in my seat.
Koshka pounced onto the bed, sidestepping warily around the owner of the nemesis hair.
“Oh, look,” she deadpanned. “The estate cat seems to be quite at home in your bed.” She tensed, either from another wave of pain or because it had just dawned on here where she was. “Speaking of which, why am I in your bed?”
Because I won’t risk letting you out of my sight again as long as Mairi has painted a target on your back.
“I have to keep you close, seeing as you’re an escape risk now.”
“Right,” she huffed. “Lest I go running off at any moment.” Her voice broke, and she squeezed her eyes shut.
I debated what to say. We weren’t friends, and I was not like Kirill, full of warmth and sympathy.
She sucked in a breath, turning to bury her face in her pillow like she could hide from the pain, and I knew I had to give her something. Pain was something I understood well. I thought of our last real conversation, where she had no hope and I hadn’t bothered to provide her with any.
No, I couldn’t offer comfort. That wasn’t who we were to one another, wasn’t who I was at all. But I could offer her practicality.
I went to her side, briefly inspecting her bandages to ensure she hadn’t pulled anything loose. They were all in order. The agony was nothing to scoff at, I knew firsthand, but at least we had gotten her help fast enough to prevent any lasting damage to her range of motion.
“Injuries like this—lash wounds—are rarely as bad as they feel.” It was technically true, though in her case, it had been touch and go. “I’m sure you’ll be back to scaling balconies in no time.”
She turned to face me, questions churning in her eyes that I had no desire to answer, let alone when we were alone in my room in this bizarrely intimate setting. Another pained grimace passed her features and I grabbed the vial on the nightstand, uncorking it.
“For the pain,” I said, pressing it into her hand.
She blinked in confusion, taking the vial.
“What about Yuriy?” she asked, downing the tonic. “Is he…?”
All this time when she had been playing games with my men and inciting them to chaos, I had assumed it was a diversion for her, but her features were drawn in concern. She was lying in a bed, in excruciating pain, worried about my cousin.
For all the times I had called her selfish, it didn’t feel true right now.
“He’s fine,” I assured her. “He’s the one who came to get me.”
Relief overtook her features, and I took the vial, turning back to my desk to get some space from her.
“Are you sleeping there?”
No, there would be no sleep for me.
“I have work to do,” I clarified.
Her eyes widened with…panic? She gasped for a breath, like suddenly there wasn’t enough air in the room.
“So I’ll be here all night, working.” I gestured to my desk, testing out that theory.
“Oh.” She started to nod, but caught herself with a grimace.
Then she settled down, letting the pain tonic overtake her while I busied myself with rote work for the census, trying to clear my thoughts. Trying to think about anything besides the princess who hated me being terrified at the thought of me leaving her alone.
Perhaps I was wrong.
Perhaps that flogging had broken her, after all.