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I stop, letting him catch up. “Yvette?”
“Yes,” he says, hesitating at my angry expression.
“Spit it out.”
“It’s about Rina.”
Turning on my heel, I head back in the direction of the stronghold. “What about her?”
To the sound of our boots on the beaten path, I file through the scenarios that would need my attendance. I can’t come up with anything. Unless . . . “Is she hurt?”
“We don’t know. The door has been barricaded somehow.”
“Barricaded . . .what?”That doesn’t sound the least bit plausible. “How?”
“We don’t know,” he starts, but I hold up my hand to stop him from wasting my time.
“Whatdoyou know?”
“Only that Yvette is quite upset that she can’t get into Rina’s room.”
I suddenly wonder if the woman has managed to escape, but I quickly discard the idea. She has no clothing and the temperature dipped below freezing last night. She’d be an absolute fool to run. Then another thought comes to me.Has she jumped?But I discard that too. A body in the corner of the courtyard would have been discovered by now. That leaves only two possibilities, that she’s hurt herself or that she’s being a spoiled child. I despise both scenarios and my mood plunges into darker and darker territory.
By the time I’m climbing the stairs, I’ve decided the woman is more trouble than she’s worth. Those bewitching eyes notwithstanding, if she hasn’t already done herself in, I’ll throw her from the window myself. I ignore the wiggle in the pit of my stomach when an image of her body, twisted and broken against the cobbles fills my head.
The recruit on guard duty at the top of the stairs is surprised to see me. “What’s going on?” I snarl.
“Uh, just a problem with the door.”
“Useless,” I scorn as I pass him by. I’m now convinced that this is a stunt to get attention. Well, if she wants attention, I’ll give it to her.
Yvette is pacing outside the door. “My deve,” she starts, but I don’t want to hear it. Testing the door, I find it is indeed not opening more than a fraction. I push harder and the wood creaks but doesn’t give. And now I’m officially livid. Putting my shoulder to the door, I use all my strength and slowly one of the hinges gives way with a squeal. Standing back, I kick until it crashes down, arcing awkwardly on its remaining hinge against the wall behind it.
The room is empty. “Son of a Mother’s twisted womb!” I’ll kill whoever was on watch last night.
But when my curse stops bouncing off the bare walls, I hear a soft whimper. Yvette tries to push past me, but I hold her back. “Go,” I tell her. “I’ll handle this.”
“But –” she protests, looking stricken.
“I said leave.” My icy glower leaves no room for discussion, but she does volley a parting shot.
“Luka, please treat her with care.”
“Now!” I shout, making her jump.
She flees and I get a flash of Bron’s disapproval before they’re gone.
Rina is in the same place she was the last time I was here; on the floor on the far side of the brazier. Well, what I assume is her is buried under the furs that I provided.
“I should have let her freeze,” I mutter as I rip away the cover . . . to find her curled into a pathetic little ball, her arms covering her head, her legs pulled up into my shirt. “Get up,” I order. All I get are tremors that run through her body. “Get up now or you’ll regret it.”
She whimpers pitifully and disgust wells up inside of me as I grab her forearm and wrench her upright. The way her whole body cringes away from me doesn’t even register when I get a look at her. Her jaw is swollen and covered by a nasty blue and purple bruise, but it’s the bite mark on her neck that chills me. It’s bloody and deep and repulsive.
A new storm swells inside of me. I give her a rough shake. “Who did this?” She only cowers, panting in short jagged bursts. Taking hold of her nape, I force her to face me. Her expression is eerily blank.
I freeze. I’ve seen this look before. My mother used to wear it after my father had gotten his hands on her. Fits of rage against her were his speciality until I got old enough to redirect his ire and take his fists. That I’m seeing it again, on any woman, let alone a woman I’m responsible for, sends my temper soaring. Someone is going to pay for this.
My instincts and experience kick in. Lowering myself to the floor, I ignore her panic as I pull her onto my lap. “Hush now,” I soothe, cradling her against my chest, ignoring the reek of her body. “I’m not going to hurt you.” That she doesn’t put up much of a fight is strangely gratifying even if I know it’s probably due more to exhaustion than trust.
