61. Zarek
Zarek
A CONCEPT CALLED LOYALTY
Imove slowly, keeping to the shadows and looking over my shoulder every few steps.
More than that, if I’m being honest.
I stop, press my back against the palace walls, and watch the shadows that fill the garden. The music is softer now, muted by distance and greenery. I would hear if someone was coming down the path.
I exhale slowly. No one is coming down that path. Not yet.
“Damn it,” I mutter as I tilt my head to stare at the stables.
I should be with them. Petrys was right about the dangers, but knowing that does nothing to quiet the ache in my chest. Lilias is in there, facing the son of a bitch who used her to start a war. And I’m here. Sneaking away.
“Shit,” I spit.
I hesitate for another long breath, listening to the distant music and the low hum of voices in the soft night air. Damn, I wish I had a blade. I’d rather walk around the gardens naked than disarmed.
Not that I have a fucking choice. I sigh, then continue creeping along the wall, heading for the stables. They seem quiet tonight, thank the gods. The grooms and servants who aren’t attending the ball are probably having their own party somewhere, and good for them.
The familiar sounds of equine shuffling and snorting meet me the closer I get to the stables. It’s strangely comforting; I have spent a lot of nights here, after all. And, gods, it will be good to see Alia.
I’m almost smiling when someone steps out of the shadows and into the path.
I flinch, then rock back. Moonlight glints off a blade in the man’s right hand. I glance over my shoulder. I could probably outrun this bastard. If I have to.
“Leaving without your wife?” the man says.
He tips his hood back and meets my eyes in the moonlight.
“Gerard?” I stammer.
Prince Elrick’s guard scowls at me. Even in this cold, pale light, he looks exhausted.
I could definitely outrun him.
“What in the hells are you doing here?” I ask.
“What in the hells does it look like?” he snaps, waving his dagger at me.
I cross my arms over my chest to let him know I’m not even a little intimidated by him or his tiny blade.
“You came for Lilias,” I say. “Is that why you’re waiting by the stables? You figured she’d come here sooner or later?” He doesn’t reply, and another thought comes to me. “Did her brother send you?”
“There’s a concept called loyalty,” Gerard snarls. “Perhaps you’ve heard of it? Not here in Vsenrog, obviously, but maybe before Malrik destroyed your shit kingdom?”
I really should not let this asshole get under my skin. I clench my jaw, then force myself to say something civil.
“She’ll be happy to see you,” I admit.
Because my wife has terrible taste in men, my mind finishes.
“You slimy son of a bitch,” Gerard replies.
He lunges forward. I see it coming, but I can’t move out of the way fast enough. He crashes into me, forcing my back against the wall of the stables. A horse snorts on the other side. Gerard’s arm presses against my chest; his hot breath washes over my face.
“I can’t believe you’re leaving without her,” he growls. “I should kill you right here.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You think you can kill me that easily?”
Gerard growls, pushing more of his weight against my chest. Moonlight winks off the dagger in his fist.
“I should,” he replies. “Gods know I’d be doing her a favor.”
Oh, fuck this guy.
I twist my hips and drop under his arm. He has enough time to gasp before I bring my arm down hard on top of his, knocking him into the wall.
There’s a dull metallic thud as his blade sinks into the rough wood.
I raise my knee, and I just barely stop myself from landing a solid hit between his legs.
He deserves it, though. He really does.
“Asshole,” I growl.
Gerard scowls at me as he tries to pull his dagger out of the stable wall.
“She’s meeting me here, you idiot,” I tell him. “You really think I’d leave without her?”
Gerard doesn’t reply, which is probably for the best. I don’t know how long I can resist the temptation to kick him in the balls. His blade finally comes loose, and I try to ignore the pang of jealousy as he shoves it into the sheath on his belt. I feel utterly naked without my daggers.
“Great,” Gerard mutters. “Very noble of you, helping her leave the palace like that.”
My jaw clenches, and my fingers tighten into fists as I fight the urge to punch this asshole right between the eyes.
Because he’s right. The two people I love the most in this world are in the palace right now, beneath Malrik’s fucking nose. And here I am. Escaping.
Damn it. Her taste is still on my lips, the sound of her soft, muffled cries still echoes through my mind. She came to save my life, even after everything that’s happened between us, after all of the horrible shit I’ve done and said and put her through.
And what did I do? I kissed her, I devoured her on the servants’ staircase, and then I left her on her own.
I glare at Gerard. The bastard has a point, but I’m never going to admit it.
And he is getting under my skin. Fuck.
I exhale slowly, then glance over my shoulder. The ballroom windows glow golden over the garden wall. The music has stopped. Now, the soft night air is filled with the dull, distant roar of applause.
Malrik must be giving a speech. Lovely.
I picture her there, in that beautiful dress, under the glow of the crystal chandeliers. The most gorgeous woman in the kingdom. With Petrys by her side, for some legitimate reason, apparently, and the gods only know how he pulled that off. My brother can work fucking miracles.
My shoulders start to relax. Lilias was right, of course.
She needs to be seen at the ball, so no one will have any reason to come looking for her.
She’s brilliant, realizing that when Petrys and I didn’t.
My chest still feels tight; I force myself to take another long, slow breath.
She’s going to be fine. They’re both going to be fine.
They have to be. Or I will tear this entire palace to the ground.
“I gave them half an hour,” I tell Gerard. “Then I go back for them.”
“Them?” Gerard repeats. “How many people know about this secret plan? And how long ago was this?”
“Fuck you,” I snap.
“I’d sooner stick my dick in a—”
His voice cuts off as the night fills with a low, sickening roar. The ground under my feet trembles.
And the air fills with screaming. It’s louder than the music from the victory ball. Much louder.
Gerard’s eyes meet mine as he pulls his dagger from its sheath.
“Where are they?” he demands.
“Follow me,” I reply.
And I spin on my heel and race toward the screams.