Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
ROSAMUND
As the day brightens, Della returns, bustling into the room as if nothing happened.
Since I fled the carnage scene, I’ve been worrying a fingernail and scratching at the streak of dried blood left on my neck. Now I stare at her in disbelief as she starts making my bed.
“Did you see him?” I finally burst out. “Did you see the bodies?”
“It’s all been cleaned up already,” she clips out the words, not looking at me.
“How can you pretend nothing happened? Three men came to kill me last night, and he—”
“He stopped them, as he was bidden to do.”
“You…” My eyes feel hot all of a sudden. “You don’t care?”
“Of course I care!” She whirls on me, her cheeks flushed. “I’m terrified for you, have been ever since they brought the werewolf here. Am I glad he killed them all? I’m thrilled. I’m so glad that the creature that was brought to end your life is actually guarding it.”
“Then, will you have a bath drawn?”
She blinks. “A bath? Of course, my lady. I’ll have the servants draw you a bath right—”
“Not for me.”
“Then for whom?”
“Haven’t you guessed? For Valen, of course. He’s covered in blood.”
Her gaze hardens. “I’ll have Kier take him out and throw a few bucketfuls of water on him.”
I hide a flinch. “I thought you liked him.”
“Then reason reared its ugly, bald head. He may have saved your life twice, but he’s still a wolf. I’ll take care of this, my lady, don’t worry about it.”
“Why is a bath out of the question?”
“Didn’t I say you are sheltered? You never let a man get naked inside your rooms, my lady. People will talk.”
I place my hands on my hips. “I’m about to leave. And the people here want me dead.”
“Listen to me. People will talk, and the rumor might reach your future husband, who could send you back. Or hurt you. Trust me.”
A shiver racks me. “My future husband would never do that.”
“Men do many things we think they’d never do. We have to protect ourselves, because they are physically and socially stronger than we are. Remember that, and keep your reputation clean as a cat’s paw.”
My face burns. “Nobody would dare accuse me—”
“They are already talking about you and your new bodyguard.”
I stare at her. “What? But I didn’t choose him—”
“That doesn’t matter, my lady. Don’t you understand?” A desperate light enters her eyes. “You will journey with him. A horny, savage animal. Alone.”
I jut my chin out. “I’ll have manservants with me.”
“Great. More men.”
“Gods, I can’t win this,” I whisper, “can I?”
“You have to. Look at me. This world is harsh. We women have it the worst, but we will change things around one day. For now…” She grips my wrist. “You have to try and win.”
My ears are buzzing—from the dream-ridden night, the bloodbath Valen had caused to protect me again, and Della’s warning.
The dark picture it painted. The realization that I might have thought myself prepared for anything, but I might not be. Despite the past. Despite my distrust and acceptance of the situation here.
She all but told me not to be hopeful. But how can I keep going if not?
It seems to me that being a woman is a constant battle—for small freedoms, for behaviors and activities men take for granted.
Occasionally, society will relax its net over us and allow some equality, but sooner or later, men will strip that away and shove us back into the box with the other dolls, the puppets, and lesser beings.
We create life. Therefore, they want to control us, afraid we may become too strong. They don’t understand that we simply want to be as free as they are, to run like the wild horses in the plains, love and be loved on equal terms.
The fae society has gone through phases when males treated women like their slaves. And human society hasn’t fared much better, despite the crucial role women played in defeating the fae king and wrestling back control of our world.
Living in this manor, far from the towns and high society, allowed to be lost in books and hiding in my room, I had thought the world outside was better. Fairer.
“My husband won’t be like that,” I tell myself. “He’ll understand me. Feel me.”
He will be like the men in epic stories, chivalrous and generous. He has to be. That dream can’t die. It’s all that keeps me going.
I stand at my bedroom window, gazing outside.
The ongoing rain lends a dream-like feel to the day.
Stroking the locket resting against my collarbone, I look down at the cobblestone yard.
I should go and break my fast. I bet everyone is already gathered in the great hall, but I hesitate to step outside my room.
The carnage. The blood seeping into the floor. The stink of it. It wrenches the fear deep inside of me, that deep-rooted horror that shapes my dreams and dictates my everyday actions.
Della said it was all cleaned up.
It’s clean. Hear that? Gone. You can leave your room.
Gods, I hate how the past controls me, how my heart is racing for no reason, as if I need to flee.
Even the scars on my body pull and ache, though that might be due to the cold and rain. I reach up and rub the one at the corner of my mouth. The smallest one, yet the only visible one. The rest I hide under my garments, just like I hide the ones in my mind.
But then movement catches my eyes. Someone is being dragged out of the manor and into the pouring rain, a familiar tall frame, only clad in torn pants, barefoot, his pale hair uncovered. His wrists bound with ropes. A black muzzle over his mouth.
I slam my palm against the thick glass, then open the window and lean out, not caring about getting wet.
Valen.
He’s tied with long ropes, held between four men. Wait, is this the washing Della promised? Just throw him out into the frigid rain?
A small crowd has gathered under the covered porch. As it turns out, no buckets are needed when the rain keeps pouring down.
No embarrassment is needed when a non-human is tormented, either.
It shouldn’t matter to me. He’ll be fine. It’s just… Just that I can’t look away. Even from up here, the deep grooves and hard planes of his body snag my attention, as does the way his wet hair clings to his strong neck and his biceps bulge as he fights the pull of the ropes.
I don’t think I’m the only one staring at Valen. He possesses that impossible physique, those sculpted muscles humans rarely develop, that magnetism that has my body clenching inside with desire. Even tied up and muzzled, he looks powerful.
He’s meant to be a spectacle, to be ridiculed, but nobody is laughing.
Closing the window, I open my door and hurry down the corridor to the stairs. As I come down, I find the hall is only half-full. The guests have gone outside to witness Valen’s humiliation, and I rush past the tables set with cooling platters of food to exit into the pouring rain.
“My lady,” a man says as I shove past the gawking crowd, “you’ll get wet—”
“I realized,” I snap and slam into the wall of water. Instantly, my dark green dress becomes drenched and heavy. I wade through the puddles, making my way toward the group of men holding Valen. “Let him go!”
The silver studs in his leather collar glint, and the leash attached to it swings as he turns around. I swear, for a moment, his eyes widen when he finds me there.
“You can leave,” I tell the men, my voice colder than the rain. “And take the ropes with you.”
“But my lady—”
“He’s my bodyguard. My responsibility. You never take him away again without consulting me first.”
“What are you doing?” Valen growls, muffled behind the leather muzzle. “Get back inside.”
And he’s undermining my authority even more, so I glare at him. “I said, go.”
The looks they shoot me say that they couldn’t care less about my statement. I have no real power in this household, and everyone knows it.
“As you wish, little lady,” one of them says snidely as he unties the end of his rope from the werewolf’s wrist. “If he eats you, then it’s on you.”
“Yeah, we didn’t invite you down here to wrestle with him, but if that’s your desire…” another says, untying his rope, too. “It’s your funeral, lady.”
“Now you pretend to worry about me,” I mutter, bending down to grab the leather strap of the leash. “You laughed when he was brought in to be my bodyguard. You thought it was really funny.”
A third man is silent as he unties his rope, and he elbows the fourth one when he opens his mouth to speak.
They walk away as the sky cries over us.
Everyone is still watching, I know. I can hear their voices over the rain, arguing and discussing loudly. Probably placing bets on my survival chances.
I’m standing in the yard alone with the wolf, and his wrists may be bound, but he’s unbound. He could grab me and lope away. He could feast on me right here and now.
It’s what everyone is expecting, gazing at us with bated breath, hoping to get their thrills in on this gloomy morning.
In the stillness, the clouds part and daylight streaks through the cloak of rain. The leash chain gleams, and Valen’s eyes shine like old gold.
“Aren’t you afraid of me anymore?” he asks, his voice a low rumble like distant thunder. “Have you already forgotten last night?”
A shiver crawls down my spine. “How could I forget?”
The blood splashed on the floor and walls, covering him from head to toe. Even now, with the rain bathing us, his hair is encrusted with it, turning the silver gray dark, and brown streaks are visible on his muscular chest and arms.
But who’s ogling his muscles, right? Not me. I’m definitely not looking.
“What are you doing out here, Princess?” He lifts his bound hands and trails a fingertip over my cheek. “A silverling for your thoughts.”
I slap his hands away. “Don’t touch me, wolf.”
He dips his head over me. His jaw clenches past the muzzle. “Right. That’s you in a nutshell, isn’t it? No touching. Bad dreams. Scars—”
“Shut up.”
“So what’s the story here, Princess?” he growls. “Do you have men trying to kill you every night, or did I choose the right time of the year? Is it a game?”
“It’s no game,” I mutter, doing my best to hide how shaken I am. “And no, my life was quiet until now.”
“Just my luck, then.” Even muffled behind the muzzle, his deep voice holds resignation. “Your own father set you up.”
“He’s my stepfather, not my father.”
“Stepfathers aren’t supposed to set assassins on their stepdaughters.”
“And sickness or violence isn’t supposed to take your loved ones away, but it happens, doesn’t it?”
“Oh, Princess.” He shakes his head. “You’re a fucked-up mess.”
“And you’re an animal in disguise,” I snap, turning around and tugging on the leash, blinking water off my lashes.
“Better carry a knife with you at all times,” he says to my back. “But it won’t be enough. He’ll kill you if you don’t leave now.”
“You won’t allow that, though,” I say, not even sure why that rings so true, “will you?”
“Damn right I won’t,” he replies. “But I’m kind of tied up right now, if you get my drift.”
Very funny.