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“No.We already went over this,” I said firmly.
“They’ll torture you.” Garrick’s voice was ragged. “That’s how they’ll punish me. And it’s my fault. I was the fool who held you—”
I lifted my chin, once again cutting him off. “Well, they can’t do much to me if Preston is to announce our engagement soon. They need me alive, and they can’t do anything to obviously mar my appearance, either, or the citizens will see and know.”
“Starlight...”
“I’ll be fine,” I insisted. “Go back to sleep.” I lay back against the pillows and pulled the sheets over myself, pretending that I was about to fall asleep myself.
We spent the rest of the night in tormented silence, each trying to fool the other into thinking we were fine. Asleep and unafraid.
Occasionally, I heard faint shrieks from deep in the bowels of the fortress, down in those awful dungeons. I squeezed my eyes shut, telling myself at least it wasn’t Garrick. And it wouldn’t be him tomorrow, either.
Better me than him,I thought.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Garrick was on his feet, hunting knife in hand, before the door even swung open that morning. I was moved by Garrick’s protective gesture even if we both knew it was futile. But it wasn’t Nerissa or Preston—at least, not at first. A guard entered with a tray of food, leaving it wordlessly on the bed beside me.
My stomach churned.
“You should eat,” Garrick said. “Restore your strength after fighting that demon.”
“What about you?”
Hesitating, Garrick sat on the edge of the bed, keeping plenty of distance between us. But despite our efforts, neither of us managed to do more than pick at the food.
When footsteps approached again, Garrick leapt to his feet, knife firm in his grip.
The door swung inward, and Preston’s piercing eyes immediately darted between Garrick and me. A derisive grin overtook his features. He stalked into the room, sniffing. “Garrick, you stink of human—and mortal, you smell ofhim.” He shook his head. “The fact that you can even bear to touch her...” He trailed off, flicking his fingers without even sparing Garrick another glance.
Stiffening, the wolf shifter lowered his weapon, his expression melting from fury to cool indifference. I sucked in a shaky breath. He was under Preston’s control now.
“You should know better, Fiancée,” Preston continued, stepping even closer to me, his presence looming. Though my heartbeat picked up, I refused to let my growing fear show on my face, instead setting my jaw and forcing a mask of calm in place. “No one touches what ismine.”
“I don’t belong to you,” I said, standing slowly. “I don’t belong to anyone.”
“Garrick,” Preston snapped. A single gesture from the king had Garrick reaching to gather his hunting knife and stalking toward me. There was no sign of the man I knew. He seemed like a mere husk, a puppet forced to do Preston’s bidding, as he seized my wrist and twisted me around until my back was to both men.
My heart twinged. I’d expected Preston to inflict some sort of hurt on me—I hadn’t anticipated him using Garrick to harm me.
Still, I didn’t resist, didn’t cry out. I couldn’t let Preston know he was winning, couldn’t let him gain a single more ounce of pleasure out of my suffering. He could enjoy watching Garrick harm me with his knife, but he wouldn’t hear me sniffle or beg.
I fought the urge to tremble as cool metal pressed against the skin at the base of my neck, hesitating before slicing downward through my tunic. The sound of tearing fabric rang out in my ears too loudly in the quiet, and cool air nipped against my back. I ground my teeth together at the first press of the tip of Garrick’s knife, the first well of warm blood, the first sting of breaking flesh. Tears burned the back of my throat as he worked slowly, methodically, one firm hand on my waist.
