Salem wouldn’t want that, but I’m beyond caring. I’m not a law-abiding Territorial. I’m from Neutral Territory, and that’s how we do things. We don’t have a justice system we hold faith in, so judgment comes at our own hands, which has always worked well enough for me.
I’m not good, like Salem, though I know he wants me to be.
My breath comes in ragged pants, each inhale aching my ribs. “You have to let Justice and Salem go. Do you understand what you’ve done?”
“I’m saving Jacoba from fae infiltration, is what I’ve done! I heard your lies, telling Justice how grand it’ll all be when the fae are let into our land like the locusts they are. Not to mention the parasites who feed on blood and darkness. Do ye have any idea how many shifter lives have been lost at the hands of vampires? I had to do what I did.” She looks like she might be sick as she picks up the shovel once more. “I never had the stomach for this part. Every day, I picture ending Queen Butcher, but I can’t manage it.” She turns her gaze on me again, and I’m surprised to see genuine pleading shining through. “See? I’m not a criminal. I’m someone who loves their territory. I’m a patriot. A loyalist.”
The room slants again, but I fight to stay coherent. She’s got the shovel aimed at the back of Salem’s head, so I scramble to find my words. “You… How… Why would you want to end Queen Butcher?”
“Her coma suffices.”
I catch a glimmer of pride in the lift of Vera’s thick chin. It’s hard to swallow the dread that bubbles up from my belly. “You’re the reason Queen Butcher can’t rule? You put her into a coma? Why? How could you do that to her?”
Vera studies Salem’s motionless form while gnawing on her lower lip. “She wanted to sign a treaty with Drexdenberg years ago. King Ronin was pushing for a no-tariff trade agreement or some nonsense. Like we’re going to up and shake hands with the enemy. The whole thing made me sick. Takes a monthly dose of bella donna to keep her under, but it’s worth it. Then her boys became my boys, as it should’ve been. I cook and clean for them. I took them to school. I made sure they brushed their teeth and bathed more than once a month. I was always their mammy! Then Salem up and turns soft, like her, offering to marry fae scum? Did he turn a deaf ear to everything I taught the lad?”
Just a little more time. I need to breathe deeper, but it’s so very cold. My ribs ache at the slightest movement. My mind is still rattling all over the place, my eyesight going in and out of focus. I have to keep her talking. I have to stay conscious.
I want her dead, even if I’m supposed to want a fair trial and all that.
Justice isn’t moving. Not even his chest. “Oh, Vera! Did you kill him? Justice isn’t breathing! Justice!” I shout, the sound absorbing into the dirt-packed walls. He was going to teach me how to read better. He was going to show me how to fence like a fancy person. He’s supposed to inherit the crown.
He’s supposed to be my brother.
For all her devious plotting, Vera drops the shovel and runs to Justice, testing his pulse with worry that mirrors my own. Her exhale of relief comes far too late for my comfort level, but it’s there all the same.
She doesn’t want to kill the Butcher boys.
“Ye had me for a second.” She stands, eyeing her shovel with loathing. Then she rolls her shoulders back, and I can tell she’s made a decision. “But it’s gone on long enough, this fragile hold on the throne they have. I’ve got plenty of arsenic. Enough for Queen Butcher and both her boys. No need for things to get messier than they already have. It’s time this ended.” She looks down in reverence. “It’ll be quick.” Then her eyes flash to me with purpose.
My throat constricts, and I know she’s made up her mind. No amount of diplomatic discussion or pleading will convince her that I’m a person worthy of compassion, or even life.
She’s sweating, even though it’s got to be cold enough to frost. When she picks up the shovel and turns in my direction, I know my time is up. Though I’ve resented my twisted brand of magic my whole life, it’s suddenly become my very best friend. I’ve loathed my darker side, but now I hope against all odds that it’s there for me when I need it most.
Vera doesn’t have the same hesitation in her grip when she approaches me. I’m not a person to her, and definitely not family. I’m scum, nothing but a nuisance to be taken out with the trash.
The urge to hyperventilate is strong, but I manage to keep my breath steady as the room tilts again. Though I can’t feel my fingertips, I will my magic to fill them. With everything inside of me, I need to be my own magic, not anyone else’s. I may not be good enough to graduate from school or bloom healing herbs, but stiff as my fingers are, I am the exact twist of magic this corner of the world needs in this moment. My light will not be snuffed out. I will not go quietly into the void. I will fight for the family who fought for me.
I don’t want to become a bitter woman who takes life, as if it’s all so simple a choice. Even though I’m not sure I believe in Salem’s ideals, if I want to become a Territorial, I have to try. I cannot murder Vera, even though the urge is on the verge of growing stronger than I can resist.
If magic is what you make of it, then I will use everything I have to make sure the Butcher boys are saved. I’ll invest my magic in rescuing, rather than destroying.
I choke out a triumphant cry as petals birth and trickle from my fingertips, scattering themselves on the floor behind me.
I sound just deranged enough to give Vera pause as she peeks around me to the silky purple petals that come to my rescue. I’ve always resented them, hated my darker parts, but in this moment, I love them, and I find the strength to hate myself a little less.
Vera’s grip on the shovel tightens. “What the…”
The petals pour from my palms now, scattering like playing cards that are bent on winning with a losing hand.
Vera’s shovel swings hard, cracking the side of my head with force that makes my teeth ring. I don’t care. Even as the light fades from my eyes, I know I’ve won. Her hatred is strong, but my love is stronger.
Her shovel drops to the floor, and a handful of seconds later, so does Vera. Her slumped form is the last thing I see before my magic runs dry and the darkness takes me.
16
In Ronin’s Arms
Lilya
“Easy, now.” The voice breaks the silence I’ve been swimming in, but the muffled male cadence is so tender, I forgive the intrusion. “I’ve got you, darling. Alexavier, if I pass out again, I swear.”
The answering male voice sounds muffled, like he’s speaking through a rag or his shirt sleeve. “You won’t. I covered the petals with dirt. That should keep the poison from hitting you again.”
Is that Prince Alexavier? It can’t be. My brain hurts, so I’m hearing what I want to hear. I’m immediately angry with my brain for betraying me by playing the one voice that causes me more pain than getting bludgeoned with a shovel.
A female voice I sort of recognize floats over my head. “Easy, King Ronin. Maybe you should let the soldiers fetch her.”
I can hear the tension in Ronin’s tone as he speaks through what sounds like gritted teeth. “She is my family, not some soldier’s. I will not trust to soldiers what I can do myself. She has no cause to trust them. If she wakes up in a stranger’s arms, I will have failed as her father and her friend. She will be my queen someday.” He’s struggling against something. I can hear the strain in his voice.
I’m jostled only slightly, but bile rises from my belly at the slightest movement. Ronin’s cologne tickles my nose, and though I can’t bring myself to open my eyes, my body curls toward the scent of protection.
“I’m here, darling. Everything’s going to be alright.”
I don’t believe him, but enough of me wants to so very much that I let myself float in the lie that loves me and carries me through the den of horrors. I never want to go near this place again, so I trust the lie that tells me love will save the day, that fathers can be good, that
life doesn’t have to be this constant struggle.
When icy air blasts my body and makes my head spin, I cuddle in closer, as much as I’m able. I can’t hear them anymore, but I know people are talking. I can detect a low murmur, the rumble of voices broken up by the sound of my name. Then the wind dies down a handful of minutes later, and I hear dress shoes echo off stone floors.
Mansion. We’re in the mansion. I’m in Ronin’s arms. Even if everything else has fallen apart, that’s one glimmer of goodness I steal from the air and keep for myself. Ronin will keep me safe.
Where is Salem? Did anyone help Justice? Did Vera escape? Fiora. I need Fiora. She would know what to do. I miss her so very badly.
Blankets wrap around me, but I’m too frozen through to feel their effect. It’s all I can do to make sense of where I’m at. The voices around me are shouting something, and fingers pry at my head, which is the last thing I want someone to do.
“Help them,” I manage, though I still can’t bring myself to open my eyes.
“We got them out.” Ronin’s cadence finds me, and something about the control in his voice eases my worry by a necessary degree. If Ronin’s not upset, maybe all the problems in the world are fixable. Maybe everything isn’t broken after all.
Maybe Salem is okay. Maybe I’ll get to keep my new brother, even if Salem goes back to his secret girlfriend. I want him to have that choice. I don’t want someone so incredible to die underground at the hands of a madwoman.
Maybe life won’t pull the rug out from under me all over again.
“Darling, look at me.” I can hear Ronin’s control begin to slip. “Can you open your eyes? Please open your eyes! Has Vera said anything yet? Who did this to the princess?”
It’s an effort I’m not sure is worth it when I open my eyes and the room starts spinning. I latch onto hints of stone walls and a long desk in the corner before I shut my eyes again to fend off vomiting. I have no idea where I’m at. Somewhere in the mansion, I assume, but not a room I recognize.
“She’s awake! Healer Wesley, don’t bother with the others. Lilya’s the priority! If she dies, the territories will never unite.”
I’m not sure that’s true, but when more fingers prod at my skull, I can’t bring myself to say as much. My stomach heaves as the pain ramps up, my whole body contracting like it needs to purge all that’s gone wrong inside of me. I manage a few words of warning before I’m rolled onto my side and a bowl is shoved under my chin.
“It’s alright, darling. This will pass. You’re safe now.”
Safe.
Ronin’s fingers are gentle as he gathers my hair in his fist while I vomit. When my stomach settles enough to let me view the world again, I soak in the compassion from his pretty eyes. There’s not a hint of disgust. “My mom! I need my mom!” I cry out as tears leak from my eyes. I’m not sure if I’m crying from emotion, or from the pressure that’s pushing at my insides while my stomach heaves. I don’t care that I sound childish and probably pathetic. Fiora stayed with me each time I took someone’s poison into my body. She put cool cloths on my forehead and sang to me. The world tried to splinter apart the harder I scrambled to hold onto it, but she remained calm.
“You, go to Neutral Territory and fetch the shifter healer Fiora. She lives in the west end near the pub. But don’t call her a healer; she hates that. If anyone gives her trouble for stepping back onto shifter soil and violating her banishment, you’re to tell them she’s been granted temporary access to Jacoba so she can tend to the princess of Drexdenberg.”
If more puke wasn’t rocketing out of me, I would tell Ronin how much I truly do love him, how grateful I am for him and how scared I still am. “Mom!” I cry for her. I only use that label aloud when I’m desperate, and I fear that’s who I’ve become—a woman desperate for some semblance of safety.
Then I shake my head. “No. Don’t call for her. I don’t want her to see me like this.”
“Prideful,” Ronin scolds me, but doesn’t argue further.
I expect Ronin to back away, but he doesn’t turn from me when I’m a shell of a person. Instead he holds me steady while my body does what it needs to.
This is what a dad should do. This is a parent.
“Don’t leave me,” I beg Ronin, and I know I’ve passed my last vestiges of pride miles ago.
“Never,” Ronin promises. Even if he’s lying, I don’t care. I’ll take the lie and count it as kindness.
He holds my hair until I have nothing more in me to give. Then he hands me a cup of apple cider vinegar to gargle and spit out to clean my mouth and throat.
“There you are. Let’s lie you down now. The healer can give you a look while we’re fetching your mum, yes?”
“Don’t leave,” I say again, unsure if he took my worry seriously.
The usually hardened or cocky edges of his eyes soften with something that looks like compassion and perhaps even familial love. “We’ve already established I’m not leaving your side. I’ll be right here until we leave for Drexdenberg, where I’ll make sure nothing like this ever happens to you again.”
I can only allow myself a solitary exhale before another worry takes me over. “I can’t protect them yet. Watch them. Are they alive?”
“Yes, they’re alive. We carried Destino upstairs so he could rest. Something about passing out from a headache? I’ve never heard such a thing from him before, but he was so bad off, he couldn’t stand. Bloody nose. I’m not sure what to make of it. The healer gave him something to sleep it off; he was so delirious from the pain. Fought us on it. Said he needed to be near you.” I somehow find the wherewithal to focus in on Ronin’s teasing smirk.
“Where am I?” I ask as Healer Wesley comes into view. He dabs at the side of my head, tsking me for looking at the rag that comes away bloody.
Ronin’s mouth tightens. “You’re in Jacoba. Do you know your name?”
“Where in the mansion is Des, and where am I?”
“Destino is upstairs in his bedroom. You’re downstairs in the study, in the room next to where Queen Butcher has been laid. I’ll get you to a proper bedroom soon enough, darling. We were worried to jostle you too much going up the stairs.”
Panic wells up in me. “That’s too far! I have to be closer to Des. Ronin, help me find him!” I try to sit up, but Healer Wesley and Ronin both back me down onto the… maybe I’m lying on a couch? I can’t tell.
“Easy, easy. You need to rest. Destino isn’t going anywhere. You can see him when you’re feeling better.”
“We’re connected! I’m his headache. If we’re apart, he’s never going to get better. You have to take me to him! We can’t be separated.”
“Darling, you’re not making any sense.” Ronin postures, his nostrils flaring. “Healer, if something’s wrong with her mind, I need to know straightaway. We must fix it.”
I don’t know how to make him understand, and I can’t get up. “I need Des!” I shout, my own volume making me wince. “Help me find him! Des!”
“He shouldn’t be bothered right now. When we found him, he was passed out on the floor. I don’t know if he’s been attacked, or what the extent of his injuries might be. He’s resting.”
“He won’t ever get better unless we’re together! I’m coming, Des!” I call through the mansion, though I’m certain he can’t hear me.
Ronin shoots the healer a look of frustration, as if me throwing what looks like an irrational tantrum is poor Wesley’s fault. “Very well, since you won’t calm down, I’ll take you to him.”
“I’ll take her, your majesty.”
“I’m perfectly capable.”
“If I’m the healer, ye have to let me make these kinds of calls. She may have broken something.”
“Can she be moved or not? If she can, I’ll do it.”
The protective note hits me at just the right angle, and I realize how much I really do love this insufferable man.
“Aye,” Healer Wesley sighs. “But I’m watching ye.”
“Are you intent on a beheading?” Ronin snips, but to his credit, Healer Wesley takes my care seriously as Ronin lifts me off the couch and carries me through the hallways. Everything hurts, but when I get closer to Des’ room, all thoughts of my bumps and bruises are shoved to the back of my mind.
17
By Destino’s Side
Lilya
Ronin tries to soothe me, but it’s no good until I take in the flaccid form of Des as he flops onto his bed. “Easy, now. Here we are. See? Destino is perfectly whole. Just a headache. I imagine it’s far less painful than yours.”
“Des, what is it?” Prince Alexavier’s voice does funny things to my heart and my stomach. I worry I’ll vomit again, but when Ronin lays me beside his great-grandson on the bed, everything in me starts to settle. Prince Alexavier touches Des’ forehead and turns to Ronin. “He was writhing in agony just a minute ago. Kept trying to get to the door and go downstairs. Gripping his head. Now he’s all limp. Healer Wesley, will you look at him?”
I don’t care that they’re prying at Des’ eyes and asking him questions he’s too far gone to answer. I can feel the heat from his body sinking into mine. We both shudder together, and when Des finally speaks, his voice catches with emotion he doesn’t hold back. I love that about him. “I had a terrible time trying to get to you. Your head! Oh, blue eyes. How did… I… I’m so sorry I couldn’t get to you.”
I can’t roll onto my side, which feels bruised beyond repair, but Des can, so he curves his body around my supine form while we both shudder with relief. The mournful sound that comes from me might’ve embarrassed me on other days, but I’m too far gone to care about things like decorum right now. “I’m sorry I was taken away from you! I’m here now, Des. We’re together.”
Malicious Prince: A Reverse Harem Romance (Territorial Mates Book 3) Page 10