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I rub my cheek with my thumb, knowing it will heal before the bruise even begins to settle in. I’ve been holding back my punches with Ivar. He doesn’t have that luxury, and I won’t hurt him just to teach him. Something my father taught me well by doing it the wrong way.
“Again,” I command, readying my stance.
“Your Grace,” someone calls from outside the training arena, and Ivar and I separate. Breathing heavily, I wipe my forearm across my brow, keeping the sweat beading there from dripping in my eyes.
“What could possibly be so important that–” I turn toward the voice, and the world seems to stand still, fading into the background as Finn smiles. His beard is longer than I remember. His hair unkept and unruly, but the same cheesy grin is still slathered on his face, highlighted by the dimples in his cheeks. He creeps a box wedged between two blunt ends of his arms up into the air, and my heart could crumble into ash, and I’d still be standing here, gawking.
What the hell happened to his hands?
“Your Grace,” the guard says again, knocking me from my daze, and I quickly shuffle toward the arena’s edge, jumping over the railing.
“You’re here.” It’s all I can manage to get out. My chest tightens as if a thousand pounds has been placed upon it, and my skin breaks out in a cold sweat.
If he’s here, then he was set free.
And if he was set free…
Traveling my gaze to the glass box he holds, my throat goes dry, and even as I try to swallow to wet the sandpaper-like tissue, I can feel every ounce of resolve I have fading. If he’s here, then that was Alice the other day in the keep.
“Please, by all the gods, new and old, tell me that’s not what’s left of her…” I step closer, and the glare reduces until a beating heart becomes clear. A pinkish-red glow radiating from its core.
“No. This isn’t Alice…Your Grace.”He exaggerated the term of endearment that I’ve quickly come to hate. It makes me sound too much like my father, and he’s everything I wish to never be. Still, there’s a sense of pride in Finn’s tone, and it tugs at something deep within me, like a glimpse of hope.
“Leave us,” I command the room and everyone, including Ivar, heed it, heading toward the door. Not wasting a moment, I wrap my arms around my best friend, squeezing him hard before setting him back down. I’ve never been a touchy person with anyone beyond Alice, but the man has seen the depths of Hell and managed to come backmostlyin one piece.
“What happened to your hands?” I ask, peering at the children’s doll size digits jutting out of the healed tissue at the end of his arms.
“Long story short, I met someone. She was held prisoner with me and we knew we were going to both be executed, so we tried to make a last ditch effort to escape. I tried to get her animal-side to bite off my thumbs, and clearly her aim is shit.”
Only he would end up in that position.
“I see… Well, we should get you to the healers. I’m sure they can speed up the process somehow–” Finn holds up a hand and my mouth snaps shut. He just shushed me… and even though it’s disgraceful to do to a king, I can’t say I’m upset. Everyone has walked on eggshells since Alice locked me in that prison world. It’s nice to have someone who’s not afraid to ‘break me’ around again.
“I’d love to see the healers, but there are more pressing concerns.”
Stepping back, I cross my arms over my bare chest, eyes glued to the beating heart in his hands. “Who’s heart is that?”
“The High King’s. Alice killed him and is currently laying waste to his kingdom… that she’s now declared herself queen of.” His eyes look everywhere but at me as he speaks.
There’s always been a part of me that believed she lived. I couldn’t accept it, but then the obsession never returned and I had to see it for what it was. She was gone. Women flooded into the keep, desperate to ‘help the king in his time of need’ and I couldn’t handle it. It infuriated me that anyone thought they could simply replace her, and that fury ended with me wrecking my own castle and my people being terrified to enter it.
Not that I blame them… I killed three of my servants for touching Alice’s things. I ended six of the maidens who ‘came to my aid’ for merely suggesting they could make me happy. That they could make me forget her and move on. There is no moving on, and I was satisfied with sending them away without laying a finger on them, but then more kept coming. Then there’s the guard I threw out the window… I quickly became a monster until she stepped through that door.
She had her same curls, the flecks of gold near her pupils that I’ve gotten lost in more times than I can count. I know every piece of that woman, and I was so sure… I wanted to believe it was her. Then the minuscule signs told me otherwise.
There was no tag in her boot.
She cowered away from me, like I terrified her.
She didn’t purr.
She didn’t fight me.
She couldn’t even look me in the eye, when she’s never been bashful–ever.
That woman looked like her, but she didn’t act like the Alice I know… Still a part of me knew… but I let my fear of being swept back into the clutches of that deal rule me, so I let myself believe I was mistaken. But I suspected deep down it was her, and I’ve questioned it every waking moment since.
Now the proof is right in front of me. I have no choice but to believe it. Alice set out to free this man–my best friend–and she did it. And supposedly killed the unkillable king in the process.
