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My heart knew what I’d discover.
Kenrik, I’m coming.
SIXTY-FIVE
“Kenrik!” I ran into the cell, appalled by the stench, but mostly crushed by the wretched anguish pouring off my dear friend.
He groaned. His head lolled side to side. As I fell to my knees beside him, my stomach lurched. I knew right away his legs were crushed. His face was busted and swollen. His lip was crusted with blood. He wouldn’t be walking out of his cell anytime soon. Healing him would take weeks.
I’d never be able to do that with Caedryn looking over my shoulder.
I still felt sick.
This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening.
He’s my husband!
What he had done—disfiguring my friend, punching him, breaking him—was as good as drawing a knife across my throat. I was bleeding on the filthy floor, unable to breathe. And the blood would never clot. I would bleed and bleed and bleed.
“Kenrik.” I couldn’t stop the tears from falling. Tears for his pain, for my pain, for the hopelessness of the situation. I was stabbed a thousand times over as I bowed over Kenrik with my tears covering his face.
“Niawen, is that you?” A puffy eye cracked open. “I can’t feel anything below my waist.” He laughed. “Never thought that would be good.”
My chest shook as I tried to laugh, but my grief only multiplied. “I’ll fix you.” I pawed his chest. “You’ll be as good as new.”
Kenrik grabbed my hand. “We both know I have no time. You haven’t the time. You must flee. Go far away from Caedryn.”
“He’s not like this. Not always. He cracked. Oh, I’m so sorry.” I reached into Kenrik’s hair and stroked his head, enjoying the way my fingers combed through the strands and praying my touch gave Kenrik relief.
He coughed, and his legs twitched.
Deian, don’t let him die. I can fix him. “Why are you here? Why’d Caedryn do this to you?”
“I followed you. It was rash, but I did it anyway. You left. You left Kelyn and Brenin. You shouldn’t have gone.”
Though I smiled, my brows pinched together. “Your being here has nothing to do with Kelyn and Brenin.”
Kenrik grinned, but behind it, his sorrow remained. “I loved you from the first time I laid eyes on you—when you turned to me, at the festival, all covered in blood. I was unable to stop myself. I had you to myself for less than a day before you passed out, before Kelyn showed up and drew your attentions. I knew he’d steal you. He stole everything I ever had—ever wanted. I saw you for how special you are. Kelyn saw you as a trophy.”
“Kelyn never stole me. No one could ever steal me. I’d have to give myself to him.”
My throat constricted. I gave myself to Caedryn. I never thought in a million years he’d hurt someone I cared about.
I never really knew him. How could I when he spent all those years working as a double agent? He probably interrogated people in gruesome ways. He might have done all sorts of abominable things I never knew.
There was no such thing as a clean slate. No such thing.
He’s sick. He couldn’t help himself.
“I tried to walk away,” Kenrik said. “I had my dreams, and you were restless and broken. But I couldn’t let you go. Not after how traumatized you were from killing those men. Kelyn and I were selfish to fight over you. We didn’t think about how you were still recovering—about how you weren’t ready for love. I should have stopped you from running. But blast, woman. You were just so stubborn.”
“Stupid. I’m stupid.”
“You seem to have a notion in your head to run.” Kenrik coughed. “That running is always the solution. Stay with us. Stay with me. Fight. Face your fears. Come home.”
Home. I hated that word.
I found his face, his jawline. My fingers flitted over the unshaven skin, memorizing the angles and creases. I’d never forget his misery. Never.
