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“Why didn’t you call me when you escaped?” he asked.
I bit my lip. “I needed a moment to…process everything.”
August nodded. “And you processed it with the man who lied to me?”
An angry growl came from Atticus’s throat. “That’s enough,” Atticus said in a hoarse voice.
August let go of me, but he never took his eyes off of me. “I wish I could say I’m surprised you waited hours to call me, Atticus, but it seems on trend for you to keep secrets. It’s time for you to leave.”
Atticus stood and crossed his arms. Thankfully, he’d put on his pants before August had gotten here. “I’m not going anywhere.” He was muscular and barrel-chested, with a face as harsh as rusted metal.
August shook his head. “You’ve done enough!” he roared. “You’re the reason she ran away. You lied to me, Atticus. You fucking lied. Held me while I sobbed for her. Yelled at me when I was grieving.”
My stomach clenched. The air crackled with tension as August and Atticus sized each other up.
Atticus took a menacing step forward. “I made you man up so you could do what you needed to do. Christine was never going to be safe at that castle, and you know it.”
One of August’s eyes twitched. “I could have kept her safe.” The air between Atticus and August was heavy with rage and mistrust.
“You didn’t keep her safe three years ago!” Atticus spat venomously. “You didn’t protect her when she was weak and broken in Harvington. And you didn’t guard her at that engagement party. I did. I’ve been the one who has always been there for her. So sorry I didn’t trust a reckless prince to take responsibility for the woman I love.”
A suffocating tension filled the room. My heart burned intensely, like a fire blazing out of control and searing my veins with every beat.
“It’s true,” August hissed. His voice was strained and defeated. “You did keep her safe. And you’re right. I never could have done that.”
“August, don’t,” I pleaded. “It wasn’t your fault—”
He threaded his fingers through mine. “I’m sorry, Christine. I will spend the rest of my life giving you everything you deserve. I will be a good husband to you. A good king to my people.”
I nodded. “I know.” I’d always seen the potential in August. I knew that his ability to love fiercely was his strongest attribute.
He turned to Atticus. “I owe Christine a million apologies, and I will make this right. However, I’m not apologizing to you. Not now. Maybe not ever. You lied to me. You fucking lied to me and you watched me break down, Atticus. You held me as I cried.”
I gasped, shocked by the picture August was painting. I could taste bile in the back of my throat and the metallic bite of blood where my teeth had sunk into my bottom lip. I didn’t want them to fight like this, but I knew it was necessary—knew we needed to air all of this out so we could move forward.
A cloud passed over Atticus’s face, and he parted his lips to argue, but he stopped. “You’re right.”
August nodded. “I’m going to make Christine happy.” He stroked my cheek. “I love you, Christine.” He then turned to Atticus. “But you, you deserve to be punished for what you did. For lying to the king.”
Atticus’s face was expressionless. “I deserve it, but I won’t feel sorry for protecting Christine when you couldn’t.”
August’s voice boomed like thunder, shaking the air around us. “Says the man that locked her up,” he spat, glaring at me. Then he turned back with determination. “I’m going to take you to the castle. I’m going to take care of you—”
“NO!” I yelled, refusing him before he could finish.
My feet were perched on a precipice of rock, surrounded by two roaring men who loved me in different ways, and I felt like I was plummeting into cold darkness.
“What do you mean?”
“I won’t go to the castle!”
August’s face fell. “You don’t want to be with me?”
I stroked his cheek tenderly. “Of course I want to be with you.”
My answer made Atticus gasp with pain and clutch his chest. I reached out to Atticus, but August caught my hand before I could make contact. I ended up reaching in the middle, and my fingers brushed against Atticus’s collarbone before August took my hand to his lips and kissed the back of my fingers.
I shook my head with dainty refusal. “I want to be with both of you—”
