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Killian
Iknelt by the blood-soaked floor with the writing that had sent Ainsley into a second rage of screaming.
The first round had rocked me to my core. Coming through the doors behind her and Jackson had been one of the worst moments of my life. I hadn’t known the duchess personally, but it was Ainsley’s last remaining parent who had raised her.
Her last connection to the world away from the chaos she’d embarked upon. And Bash had taken it all from her—quickly and effectively.
I was on my knees near the door, watching Jackson’s breakdown and how he was struggling to hold Ainsley up—keep her together.
For the first time in an incredibly long time, I didn’t know what to do. What to say to her. How could I comfort her? There was nothing I could do to make this better.
When the second set of screams started, I rose from the floor and immediately saw the motivation behind her anger. Now, I needed to investigate. See something, notice some flaw in Bash’s handiwork to discover where that bastard was.
Jackson had let go of Ainsley as her anger simmered enough to have her refrain from the screaming. She sat shaking in a terrified mix of fear, anger, and loss. I’d kill him for inflicting this pain upon her.
“We need to get help to clean this up and prepare for a memorial.” His tone was void of all emotion. He was a stoic aristocratic man now, with a list of things that had to be done.
Ainsley tilted her head and placed a hand on the duchess’s arm, squeezing harder than she likely realized. “I cannot let go.”
Jackson knelt next to her, kissing her forehead. “I’ll go.”
He immediately looked to me, walking my way. “Don’t leave her alone.”
I nodded, and when he’d left the room, went to Ainsley’s side. The moment I was on the floor beside her, she collapsed into me, although she still held her mother’s arm in a vise grip.
“Breathe, love. Just breathe.” I stroked her hair while holding her close to me. I didn’t have the words, nothing eloquent enough to ease her pain. So instead, I’d sit with her in her grief until she had the strength to stand.
Jackson was gone for what felt like hours. When he returned, he had quite a few people who appeared like staff. The men’s faces blanched, however, the moment they spotted Ainsley, they adjusted their expressions of shock. She was loved here. The instant they hid their pain and fear for her, I knew. Home was her safe place, a place of joy. And Bash had crashed into it not once, but twice now.
I didn’t move as Ainsley looked up at who had entered. She sniffed, and though fresh tears and a few sobs escaped, she leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss on her mother’s face, then finally letting go of her arm.
There was no hesitation as I grabbed her around the waist when she stood on her own two feet. Although, she wobbled as she lifted her chin.
“Thank you for your help. I’ll begin preparations for the memorial, and we will go from there.”
One of the men came around and cupped her face. “Ms. Harensly’s drawing you a bath. And a bit of tea. It will help you sleep. We shall take care of everything, my Lady.”
“Thank you, Braxton,” she whispered.
Ainsley moved to take a step forward, but as she did, grabbed my hand that rested on her waist. And so, by her side I remained. She nodded to Jackson, who followed behind us.
Ainsley led, though I supported her weight, and she took us to a large, ornately decorated sitting room. The fireplace wasn’t lit; however, a woman entered the room soon after we’d opened the doors.
“Your bath is nearly prepared, my Lady. I shall light the fire for the evening now.”
Ainsley smiled and thanked the woman sweetly.
I took her hand, because she seemed to have gained a bit of courage and strength being in this room. She sat on a chaise, stretching her legs out in front of her and staring at the darkness of the unlit fireplace.
“We need to alert the prince and the other royals of the news,” she said, still staring into the abyss in front of her. “And we need to ensure no one else suffered casualties, although I doubt it. Bash’s message made it abundantly clear why he was here.”
She drew in a breath. “And I need to speak with Doctor Weston to inquire how to…” She paused and then cleared her throat. “How to ensure she is buried correctly. I wasn’t here for my father’s, I’m not aware.”
Another sob crashed through Ainsley’s body, but Jackson was closer. He held her head to his chest as she inhaled heavy breaths. “I’ll take care of all of that. It is no trouble. As soon as Ms. Harensly returns.”
This place, seeing her here, it reminded me of my own life. Of what life would have been like had I taken up my royal title and stayed. If I hadn’t had to take care of my brother’s skeletons. I hadn’t been back in a place like this in far too long. And now I watched the only woman I’d ever cared for, completely shaken to her core, attempt to go through this trial in the midst of her grief.
Ms. Harensly walked through the door with a few logs in her hand and set the fire, efficiently and quickly and was gone again in only a few moments.
