Chapter 16
Damien sat in the Judgement Room. It was dark, but his eyes had adjusted, as had his body. He knelt before Aurora’s braid, his head hanging down, his chin against his chest. The beast was alive in him now, demanding more blood. Demanding revenge. He knew he had scared the servants enough, so they would not bother him anymore. He didn’t care. He didn’t care about them. He didn’t care about Acquitaine. She was gone.
He heard the door creak open behind him. His jaw clenched tight.
“Damien?”
Gawyn. He had wondered where his brother had gotten to. He wondered why he wasn’t there, trying to comfort him. He needed no comfort. Only death. “Get out,” he whispered. It was so silent that his voice echoed through the room.
Gawyn didn’t seem to notice. A torch flared to light behind Damien. He scowled at the light on the floor as if the touch of it would burn him.
“Damien?”
Always intrusive. Damien’s fists clenched tight. He wanted him gone. He wanted to be in darkness. He wanted to be cold and alone. She was gone. Some part deep inside of him was wailing and he couldn’t get it to stop unless he saw red. “Get out,” Damien said more firmly. The beast was hungry. Damien snarled, his lips curling over his teeth.
“Brother,” Gawyn began with a gentleness.
Damien whirled, his hands curved into clawed fists, his rage blinding him, his teeth bared. “GET OUT!”
Gawyn stood, holding a torch. He didn’t flinch at Damien’s tirade; he didn’t move.
The torchlight showered over her like beams of gold touching a goddess. For a moment, Damien froze. He didn’t even take a breath. He must be going mad. Slowly, his hands uncurled. His snarl evaporated. The beast howled inside of him, telling him to run, to hide. She couldn’t be real. He was going mad.
She came toward him. But it wasn’t until he heard her voice, a soft calling, “Damien,” that he knew this was no dream, this was no hallucination.
He was at her side in two large strides. Tears welled inside of him as he stopped before her, his gaze hungrily devouring her every curve, every line on her face.
She touched his cheek, her stroke gentle, concerned.
Fiercely, savagely, he grabbed her and pulled her to him, holding her, crushing her to him. He squeezed his eyes closed, afraid, so afraid that he would open them, and she would be gone. A lone tear squeezed from the corner of his eye, running over his cheek.
“Damien, Damien,” she whispered over and over.
Her voice was the only thing anchoring him to the moment. And still he crushed her to him, refusing to relinquish her softness, her goodness. Her love.
When he heard a soft sob, he pulled back to look at her. Her face was wet with tears. He ran his thumbs over her cheeks, brushing them away. She was safe. He kissed her lips, tasting her. She was real.
The door creaking drew Damien’s attention. He saw Gawyn pause for a moment in the doorway. They locked eyes. He had brought her back to him. His brother had brought her back.
Justina sat in her chambers; Gawyn was seated at the table, watching her. They were still in the wet, muddy clothing they had crossed the river in even though a tub of warm water had been brought in and was set before the hearth. She jumped up from her bed and moved to the window. She stared out at the sun. It was midday. She was feeling restless and lost.
“Are you hungry?”
Justina turned to look at him. “I want him back.”
Gawyn stood. “Justina --”
“I mean I want to bring him home to bury him. He shouldn’t be out there alone.”
Gawyn nodded. “I know. But we can’t go now.”
Justina turned to look at him. Their clothing was damp, but at least the hearth was lit for warmth. Gawyn had carried her up the wall on his back, using the rope and then had done the same for Aurora.
He must have left the castle to look for Aurora. She was more important. She dropped her head and turned away to look out the window again. It was only blind luck that she had been with Aurora when he had found them.
“What is it?” Gawyn asked.
“You saved my life.”
