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Lord Geralt raped me, August.
“What?” I didn’t know what else to say. The single-syllable word sounded so hollow when compared to her confession. I wanted to kick myself for such a lame response for so terrible an admission. Christine was hurt. No wonder she fled.
“That’s not all,” she said while cocking her head to the side. She had this faraway look in her expression that felt all wrong for the conversation.
I ran through my muddled thoughts, trying to remember who the fuck Lord Geralt was. There were so many members of the court I could hardly keep track of them all. If he was alive, his severed head would roll through the kingdom by nightfall. “What else?”
“I killed him,” she said, a slight lift to the end of her sentence, though her words were deadly. “I beat his skull in and got blood all over the carpet.” She rolled her shoulders back. “I killed him, and I left.”
My initial response was to say good. He deserved to die—to suffer. But I didn’t even have time to say this, because Christine shoved at my chest and ran past me. I was stunned still for a moment, my boots rooted to the floor as I processed her words.
I killed him.
It was impossible to think of the girl I’d grown up with murdering anyone. She was the girl who carried every spider and mouse caught in the castle out to the gardens. Life bloomed from her fingertips in her mother’s garden. She wasn’t a murderer. She was…Christine. Innocent, lovely, pure.
But she was also hurting.
Lord Geralt raped me, August.
Lord Geralt raped me, August.
Lord Geralt raped me, August.
Lord Geralt raped me, August.
I was angry, shocked, and confused. But more than anything, I was worried about Christine and angry at myself.
I shook my head clear of the rampant thoughts running through my mind, and sprinted after her. I thought for sure her heels would snap as she stomped down each step, her long dress gathered in her clenched fist as she tried to put as much distance between us as possible.
“Christine!” I called after her. This conversation was far from over, and I was getting tired of her running away from me. We’d been doing this for three fucking years.
But I’d be damned if I ever let her get away again.
She landed on the bottom step with grace and turned to look over her shoulder. I paused on the step, my chest heaving as she shoved her blonde hair out of her face. “I need space,” she said.
I shook my head. “I need you.”
She licked a stray tear that had collected on her top lip and then faced away from me. I took one step closer, the move spooking her. Immediately, she continued running away from me. A royal attendant pressed their body against the wall as she breezed past them. My long legs carried me after her. I pumped my fists as I sprinted down the hall, passing gold frames with paintings of lords and ladies in them.
She knocked over a vase of roses on an end table, sending thorns and petals flying as water splashed on the floor. Atticus appeared out of a room, and she ran past him in a hurry, nearly pushing him in her rush to get away from me.
Atticus looked after her, his jaw clenched as I came to a halt at his side. “What did you do to her?” he asked me before taking a step, likely intending to chase her down. I reached out to grab his arm, my pulse raging as I glared at him. He looked down at where I held him. “Get your hand off of me.”
“Did you know?” I asked, my veins throbbing.
He jerked out of my grip. “Know what?”
I looked around, frowning at the watching castle workers. “Did you fucking know, Atticus? Did you know why she left?”
The realization in his expression made me sick to my stomach. He did know. I could see my answer clearly in the sad way his eyes dimmed. He lowered his voice and spoke. “We should discuss this in private.”
I shoved his chest toward the door he’d just come out of. “Yeah. We’re gonna fucking discuss this, you asshole.”
Atticus shoved me back, his palms landing right in the middle of my chest. “I suggest you keep your hands off of me, Your Majesty.”
I grabbed the collar of his shirt and slammed him against the door. “I’ll fucking kill you.”
Atticus smirked at me. “No you won’t.”
