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“Did you keep my letters, the ones I slipped under your door?”
He didn’t move, didn’t breathe. He paused for so long, I may have earned a second beating. “Why did you leave them?” he asked.
“Why?” I shifted against the bed. Sharp heat poured down my right side, probably a broken rib or two. Dancing would be difficult for a few weeks. But the pain felt good, felt real, reminded me who I was and where I’d come from. “I don’t know. Fleeting moments of insanity?” The real reason was far more complicated and considering the prince’s punishment, I had no wish to reveal it.
“I burned them all.” In three strides, he flung open the door and left with his brutal guards trailing behind him.
“But did you read them?!” I called.
No reply came. The door hung open for anyone to peer in and see the results of his visit.
A second wave of fire ignited my side. I gritted my teeth, tried to keep each breath shallow, and waited for the agony to pass.
At least, with the palace in mourning, and considering my apparent relationship with the queen, I might take the opportunity to withdraw to my room for a few days. Jubilant songs and sleight of hand were unlikely to be in high demand at Katina’s passing ceremony.
I dragged my battered body off the floor, kicked the door closed, and collapsed back onto the bed. Bruises would heal, the pain would fade, the drama of the queen’s death would pass. Everything would be controllable once more. Everything, except that prince.
In four years, he might have been the only real challenge I’d encountered. And I’d felt the sting of his sweet wrath. I smiled and licked blood from the cut again. Yes, Arin was going to be a problem, one I couldn’t wait to sink my teeth into.
But first, I’d close my eyes and drift…
* * *
A bangingon the door dragged me back to semi-wakefulness, where everything ached. I stayed quiet, hoping whoever they were would assume I wasn’t in my room and head off in search of me.
When I next opened my eyes, Ellyn was at my bedside, hands on her hips, face stern. “Lord Draven was attacked. Nobody had seen you. I thought—” Biting off her own words, she looked away.
“I’d been tossed in the dungeons again?” I croaked and tried to lever myself up. Arin’s many gifted bruises sparked alive again, reminding me of his recent visit. I’d slept, but I wasn’t sure for how long. All the days and nights had blurred together. Chills shivered through my body.
“No, I thought you’d been hurt too. And you have! Look at you!”
“Ah yes, well.” I clutched my side and dropped back, against the wall. “I had nothing to do with Draven, and this is… tough love, I think…” Some dislodged part of my chest jabbed against a lung. I gasped, and winced, at the mercy of Ellyn’s glare.
“You’ve been like this all day?” she demanded.
Day, night? What day even was it? “I have no idea.”
“Remove your damn shirt.” She caught the gleam of mischief in my eyes. “Do not jest, Lark, this is no laughing matter. Your breaths are rattling. I want to see how bad a state you’re in.” I struggled with my shirt while she clanged through my sparse cupboards. “Where are your basic supplies? Bandages, iodine? At least some henbane to numb the pain.”
I winced, tugging on my shirt sleeve. “I rarely sleep here. Everything I need, I borrow from others.”
She turned, about to plow into another round of chastising me, when her voice failed and her mouth fell open. I could pretend it was the bruises that had stolen her voice, or perhaps my handsome physique, but she’d seen the scars on my chest, hundreds of them. They weren’t deep, but there were many. In soft candlelight, they disappeared. But cruel daylight was pouring through my window, making the scars shine. Ellyn saw it all.
“Who did that to you?” She knelt.
I huffed and brushed her reaching hand away. “They’re old.”
The bruises weren’t though, and those caught fire again, wrenching the air from my lungs. She shouldn’t have asked. We’d made a pact, not long after I’d arrived. I’d helped her out of a difficult situation. She’d owed me. And my only request was that she never ask about my past. As far as she was concerned, my life began four years ago, the day I’d walked into the Court of Love.
Nobody asked about the scars, ever.
Remembering her promise, she blinked away. “Some salts, and warm water, a little henbane for the pain. Hm… This will be easier at the bathing house. Can you make it there?”
“Leave me here, I’ll be fine.”
“No.” She slammed a cold hand to my forehead. “You have a fever. Where’s your coat?” She scooped it off the hook and made it clear she wasn’t going to leave until I obeyed. Perhaps I did need some help.
“Lark, don’t mess with me. This is serious.”
