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My breath caught in my sore throat, and my heart thudded. I had known Fin was still in the bedroom, of course, but I hadn’t been prepared to see him again.
“I assumed this is all so we can move the body.” Fin shrugged his broad shoulders. “Figured you didn’t want to drip a trail of blood through your castle.”
I swallowed roughly and nodded. Realizing I was staring, I looked at the gleaming crimson pool on the hardwood floor and the smears marking Fin’s path to the rolled rug. “We need to clean this up first,” I said, my voice thready.
Macy and Zion would wake eventually, and the evidence of what had really happened here needed to be gone by then, or their false memories would destabilize, letting the truth shine through.
I rushed into the adjoining bathroom and crossed to the walk-in closet at the far end of the room to retrieve a stack of towels. I would have to hide the mess for now and burn it all later.
Fin was quiet as we knelt together on the hardwood floor of my bedroom and mopped up my dead husband’s blood. His frequent glances reminded me he had come here for a reason that had nothing to do with killing Alastor. I had little doubt that when this was all over, I would find out exactly what had driven him back to Corvo City, pushing him to risk his life by sneaking into the castle. Either I was imagining things, or he was purposely staying out of arm’s reach from me, like he believed I planned to lunge at him and take his secrets without permission, having done it to him before.
After I changed my clothes, and after Fin moved Macy and Zion to the sofa to sleep off their supposed wild night of drinking with the grieving princess, we finally left my private chambers. I led the way up the vacant hallway to the painting of Dani, the Patron of Telepaths, and her German Shepherd, Jack. Fin followed close behind me, the rolled rug containing Alastor’s body slung across his shoulders.
We slipped into the hidden corridors that snaked throughout the castle, Fin moving sideways to fit his awkward burden through the narrow passageways, and wound our way through the warren of tunnels toward the stairway to the north turret.
“We’re almost there,” I told him in a hushed whisper once we had emerged from the walls and started climbing the spiral staircase leading up to the top of the battlement.
Fin was breathing hard by the time I opened the door to the turret, and sweat beaded on his brow, dripping down his temples and making strands of his drying hair stick to the back of his neck.
“Can you unwrap the body?” I asked, taking a few steps, then pausing to turn part way back toward Fin. “I need to, um—” When my eyes met his, my heart stuttered yet again, and the words died on my tongue.
He wasreallyhere. His presence rattled me to the core of my being.
Whywas he here? Where had he been all these years? What happened to him and his people? Why had they abandoned their village in the wooded wildlands to the north? Why had he abandonedme?
Oblivious to my rapid unraveling, Fin unceremoniously dropped his burden. The rug and body hit the stone floor with an audible crunch.
The sound of breaking bones shook me out of my momentary trance, and I cleared my throat. “This’ll just take a moment.”
I rushed across the turret platform and dropped to my knees in front of the ammo box tucked beneath the Gatling gun. Hands suddenly trembling, I fumbled with the box’s latch for a few seconds before freeing it and lifting the lid. I hurriedly removed the bullets, setting them on the floor beside me, then lifted the false metal bottom and pulled out the sealed bottle of whiskey resting on its side and the forged note from a physician “confirming” Alastor was sterile.
I returned everything but the bottle and note to the box, arranging the ammo exactly as I had found it, and shut the lid. Tearing the seal off the bottle, I stood and hurried back toward Fin and the unwrapped body. The jacket that had been tied around Alastor’s neck lay piled in a bloody heap on one corner of the rug.
I yanked the cork free and dumped about half of the liquor onto Alastor’s body, spreading it around to soak into his clothes. When the pungent odor of whiskey was strong enough to make me crinkle my nose, I stopped, lifted the bottle to my lips, and took a long pull.
The whiskey burned my throat, and I coughed as I choked it down. Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I offered the bottle to Fin.
“Maybe later,” he said with a shake of his head. He planted his hands on his hips and stared down at Alastor’s liquor-soaked body. “He’s going over the edge?”
I nodded, crouching down to tuck the forged doctor’s note into Alastor’s inner coat pocket. “Drop him head first,” I suggested, standing. “To disguise the knife wound.”
Fin’s gaze was heavy, assessing. “You really hated him.” It wasn’t a question.
“Since the day I met him,” I said, raising the bottle to take another drink.
I felt lighter all of a sudden. I wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol already tingling through my blood or the relief I felt at realizing I would never have to grin and bear it through another day of being Alastor’s wife.
“Then why—” Fin narrowed his eyes and shook his head slowly, like he couldn’t figure me out. “Why did you marry him? For the alliance?”
“With the Sierra Kingdom?” I guffawed. “No. Definitely not.” I glanced down at Alastor’s body. “Are you going to toss him over the edge, or do I need to drag him?”
Fin ignored my question, his stare burning into me. “Then why, Del? Why him?”
“I’ll tell you as soon as you get rid of the body,” I said, pointing down at Alastor with my chin.
With a huff of impatience, Fin crouched and hoisted the big man’s body over his shoulder. He carried Alastor to the low wall, where he perched him on the edge to get the angle just right, before letting go.
I held my breath as the body fell, waiting. The sound of it hitting the ground made my stomach turn, and I barely suppressed a gag.
