“We’ll find somewhere soon,” I promised.
Anais nodded and rested her head on my shoulder. I rubbed my hand against her back in slow circles. Both to heat her up and because I couldn’t stop touching her. I held her hand all day, twirled her hair between my fingers when we stopped, and snuck a handful of kisses after we ate. My mind should’ve solely been on our escape, but she consumed me. Pushed out all rational thought.
“Are you warm enough?” I asked.
She laughed. “Perfectly toasty.”
“Alright.” I groaned as I stood. “Let’s get going before we freeze to the log.”
A twig snapped nearby in the silent forest. I twisted, my hand immediately going to the hilt of my sword. Pain lanced through my shoulder blade before I could remove the weapon. Then a sharp sting across my side. An arrow slammed into the fallen tree, right beside Anais’ thigh.
“Get down,” I shouted, and shoved her backward over the log.
I didn’t get the chance to see if she stayed hidden behind it before another arrow pierced my back. A strangled growl left my throat as I stumbled. Another arrow. I fell to my knees. Vision blinking in and out. I’d been shot before—stabbed and whipped and broken—but the next arrow hit with a thunk that reverberated through every cell of my body. I fell forward, holding myself up with one arm, and coughed. Blood splattered the brown and yellow leaves.
“Anais,” I said, and tasted the metallic hint of blood in my mouth. “Run.”
A boot slammed into my side and I toppled over. “Hello, Wing,” a royal guard sneered. Then, louder, he called, “get the girl.”
“No!” I jerked up and was met with a fist to my cheek. Pain exploded, stars dancing in my vision. I tried desperately to blink them away, to see, but the pressure behind my eye made the assailant blurry.
“Try to keep him alive until we get back to the palace,” someone said. “The king wants to talk to him.”
The guard looming over me scowled. “Not sure we can guarantee that.”
I withdrew a dagger from beneath my bracer and threw it. The blade landed in his throat and he stumbled back, gurgling. I smiled as he tumbled over his own feet. Smiled for the small bit of satisfaction it gave. For the distraction it caused. I hoped Anais saw the opening as a dozen guards raced forward to help him.
“Fucker,” one of them shouted. Right before driving their boot into my face.
Chapter Twenty-Six
All I knew was pain. Sharp bursts of agony raged through me, a barrage of biting aches. But mostly heat. Ungodly heat radiating from my back. I attempted to lower my arms to ease some of the warmth but they wouldn’t budge.
I cracked my eyes open to a dark room. The only light came through the semi-circle barred window at the top of the wall in front of me. On the other side stood a pair of muddy guard’s boots. I exhaled, the sound trembling, the breath a visible cloud in front of my face.
The dungeon.
This was the dungeon at the palace.
Memories flooded through me. Leaving Ora Et, the woods, arrows, Anais—I jerked forward at her name. A strangled shout tore from my throat. Chains held my arms over the top of a thick wooden beam and the movement speared through my shoulders. They were undoubtedly dislocated on top of having arrow wounds. My vision blinked in and out as my body continued to throb in time with my pulse.
In the distance, a metal door creaked open followed by footsteps. I hung my head, willing the dizziness away. This was always going to be my fate so, as the footsteps neared, I calmly resigned myself to whatever came for me. I had always thought I’d fight against dying even if I accepted the truth of it, but now I only felt… Guilt. For all those years lying to Bastian. Betraying him even though I loved him. And for not getting Anais away quickly enough. Wherever she was right now, I hoped her fate wasn’t as bleak as my own. A yawning darkness opened in my chest, threatening to pull me in. I knew if I allowed myself to fall to the inky pit, all the horrible things I’d done, every lie and misleading remark, would torment me just as my body would be tortured soon. I deserved it, but I wasn’t prepared for more suffering. Whoever questioned me would send my mind spiraling in that direction soon enough.
The boots that stopped in front of me weren’t the well-worn leather of a guard but gleaming black. My head whipped up, expecting Bastian, but instead, I found King Edric. “You caused quite the ruckus,” he said in a flat voice and picked off a glove one finger at a time. He handed it over his shoulder to one of his Wings—I couldn’t tell them apart in the dim light. They were both hulking masses that blurred in and out in my peripheral.
“Where’s Anais?” I rasped.
“Worried about your whore?” King Edric sneered as he removed the second glove and handed that over as well. The second Wing—Nen, I thought, when my vision cleared for a moment—held out a coiled rope. Not a rope. The king let the whip trail down to the stone floor and gave it a practice flick. It gave a light tsk against the stone floor, but I knew from experience that it wouldn’t sound so innocent against flesh. The king moved his gaze up my body before settling on my eyes. “Worry about yourself.”
Then he lashed out. Hard and fast. The crack of the whip against my stomach pulled out a startled cry. Before I could recover, a second lash landed on my upper chest, the tip curling over my shoulder. The third intersected both. But I held my screams then. Swallowed them as the king rained pain down on my torso.
The burning, stinging pain in my back now matched the front as the hits blended together. I felt the blood ooze from where the arrow had struck my shoulder blade, but the whip marks were too close together to notice if one bled or they all did.
My vision tunneled as the king continued his assault. I heard the cracks. Felt the agony of the whip landing in some distant recess of my mind. Crack, crack, crack. I dragged in a wet breath. Gods have mercy and let me die.
✽✽✽
The gods did in fact have mercy—just not the kind I’d wanted. I’d lost consciousness at some point, but I was still alive. If that was what this was considered. I slumped against the restraints, unable to hold myself up, and the wooden beam brought all my weight down onto my shoulders.
“You’re awake,” came a familiar voice.
I lifted my head enough to see the outline of Bastian. Someone had lit two torches on either side of the window since I was awake last. Hours? Days?
“Bast?” I croaked. My throat was dry, tongue thick. “What are you doing here?”
He stepped closer, wringing his hands together in front of him. Dark circles painted the skin beneath his eyes, but it was the dead look in them that drove a nail through my chest. “Is it true?” he asked in a rough, quiet voice.
“Is what true?” Although I was sure the answer would be yes.
“You’re with the Red Asters? You were placed at my side to spy on me?”
I let my head drop back down to avoid his gaze. “I was a child—I wasn’t given a choice.”
Bastian swallowed hard. “Not then, no. But you grew up.”
“Yes. I grew up.” I squeezed my eyes shut against the pain growing in my chest. Somehow it was worse than the arrows and the whip. “But what would you have done if I told you when I was ten? When I was twenty? By then, I’d already been a traitor for so long that the truth would’ve gotten me killed. And, if by some miracle, your father pardoned me, the Asters would’ve sent an assassin.”
“I would’ve protected you,” he said with conviction.
Pressure built behind my eyes, threatening tears for the first time in over a decade. He would’ve tried and knowing that was what mattered to me. “It was my job to protect you. That’s why I didn’t tell you. How could I save you from the rebels if I was dead?”
He was silent for a moment. “Was that why you became my friend? For them?”
My head snapped up and I winced. “If I wasn’t your friend, I wouldn’t have lived my life like this. Decades spent walking the knife’s edge. Worried you would find out. The
king would find out. Or the Asters would ask something of me that I wasn’t willing to do and perish for it. Every day of my life has been a lie and I hate myself for it. I deserve my fate, but I need you to know…” I blinked away the tears threatening to fill my eyes. It hurt my chest to talk this much, both from the wounds and the explosive guilt, but I was about to die. This could be my last chance to explain everything. “You need to know that I never betrayed you to them.”
Bastian locked eyes with me and cocked his head. “Until now.”
I flinched. “Anais?”
A crease formed between his brows. “What?”
“Nothing.” Fuck. I’d just exposed her name when Karina could possibly be the only thing keeping her alive. It was too late to pull the word back in—all I could do was distract him from insisting on an answer. “Don’t blame Karina. Please. If you still have a shred of love for me, don’t kill her. It was my idea to run.”
His chest rose and fell in harsh breaths. “I don’t know how to feel, Saer. I want to pretend this is all a nightmare and go back to how things were. But I can’t. So, I need you to explain why you thought having an affair with my fiancée was something a friend would do.”
“It’s not what you think.” Mostly. I struggled to get my feet beneath me. If I told him Anais’ secret, she was equally as fucked as me.
“She’s set to stand trial in three days, but you and I know what the verdict will be so don’t martyr yourself for her. Explain. You owe me that.”
I sucked in a strangled breath. Hadn’t I given him everything? Always? But he was right—I owed him the whole truth. And, finally, I could give it to him. If Anais was set to stand trial instead of being quietly sequestered, she wouldn’t be found innocent. The governors disapproved of her before she committed a crime against the crown. I released a defeated sigh, unable to summon the ability to lie. “I was trying to save you.”
“From Karina?” he scoffed, turning his back on me to pace.
“Yes,” I wheezed. “Question the countess—you’ll learn her child died a few years after your father took the throne.”
Bastian whirled on me. “What?”
“The real Karina is dead. Anais is someone the countess bought to act the part. She had no choice but to play along for her family’s sake, but she had no idea the countess was working with the Red Asters. I don’t know what they planned to use her for, but they would use her.” My boots slipped in the blood pooling at my feet and the weight of my body twisted my arms higher. I threw my head back with gritted teeth. “Believe me,” I forced out. “If they ordered her to kill you, she couldn’t refuse. The Asters would’ve made sure your father knew her secret just like they told you mine when I ruined their plans by running.” He didn’t need to tell me how he knew I was an Aster. Faramond threatened to expose me and he did. “Denying the rebels is a death sentence. Leaving was the only way to save you both.”
Bastian worked his jaw. “I’ll have the countess questioned before the trial.”
“You’ll condemn Anais to death if anyone finds out.”
Bastian gave a humorless laugh. “You say you ran for my sake, but it sounds like more than that.”
Because it was. I could’ve let Anais’ secret slip in a way that wouldn’t implicate me and neutralized the problem weeks ago. Fuck it. I was about to die. Without being told, I knew that there would be no trial for me. Might as well go out having said it aloud once. Even if it wasn’t to the right person.
“I love her.” I closed my eyes and let my head roll where it may. There wasn’t enough strength left in me to do anything else. However Bastian felt about Anais, I was convinced he didn’t love her, not like I did. One day, perhaps, they would’ve grown to love each other and I stole that from him. I hated myself for it, but I couldn’t regret it either. “It started when I met her in the garden. Once I found out who she was, I tried to stop but I just… couldn’t. I’m sorry, Bast. So damn sorry.”
Warm hands gripped my cheeks, tilting my face up. I expected a punch to follow. Bastian’s hands to lower to my throat and finish me. Instead, he looked at me with a mix of shock and sadness. “She’s the noblewoman you talked about?”
“Yes,” I breathed.
His grip on my face tightened. I closed my eyes, ready for it all to end. Fitting that he would be the one to do it. It was better this way. For him and me.
Bastian’s forehead landed on mine and he snarled. “Fuck.”
I opened my mouth to apologize again, but he was gone. Practically running from the dungeon. I released a defeated sigh as a traitorous tear slid down my cheek. Had I helped Anais escape death? Did Bastian have enough answers to give him peace? I was too exhausted to sort any of it out. But I knew with certainty that I wouldn’t see my friend again. I’d be lucky to see the sun rise.
“Goodbye,” I whispered to his back as the sound of the creaky door filled the cell.
My last thought was that I hoped he would stay safe before I allowed myself to find oblivion again.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The thick scent of herbs woke me as someone gently touched my chest. I pried my heavy lids open to find the royal healer standing in front of me, rubbing a healing balm into the raw lashes. Why? Was I to go through the charade of a trial after all? They would need me alive and coherent. Unless King Edric simply wanted to keep me alive to torment me longer.
“He’s awake,” the healer said over his shoulder.
I lifted my head a little higher, groaning as the pain radiated from my back. My chest was blissfully numb. Bastian leaned against the wall behind the healer with his arms crossed. At the sight of him, I tried to push to my feet, but my legs shook too much to manage it. The healer set his salve-covered hand on my shoulder to steady me.
“Hold still,” he admonished.
“Your Highness,” I croaked. Not only because of the audience, but I wasn’t sure if I was allowed to use his given name anymore.
“Relax and let the man work.” The prince scuffed the floor with the toe of his shoe. “He needs to return before someone notices him missing.”
“If we could undo his chains now,” the healer suggested.
Bastian nodded and stepped forward with the key to unlock the chains around the wooden beam. “I wasn’t sure if you’d wake up fighting if we took them off before,” he explained quietly as the chains clinked, loosening. “The whole plan hinges on us going unnoticed.”
The chains slid to the ground and my body slumped to the side, legs unable to hold me up on their own. Bastian caught me with an arm across my chest. He slowly lowered me to the floor and helped the healer remove my tattered shirt.
“What plan?” I wheezed.
“Did you think I’d let you die?” Bastian braced my shoulder, letting my forehead rest on his collarbone as the healer gently moved one of my arms.
Without warning, the old man popped my shoulder back into place. I immediately wretched from the pain, my mouth flooding with saliva. The healer repeated the motion to my other shoulder before I had a chance to recover. The room tilted, sight and sound unfocused. Sweat beaded on my skin and I clutched onto Bastian like an anchor.
“Hold on,” Bastian urged.
The healer began treating the wounds from the arrows next. I hissed in pain at the first touch of his ointment, my clarity rushing back, but then a cooling tingle spread from the wounds.
“I still don’t know how to feel about everything that happened,” Bastian continued despite the healer’s presence. “I’m furious with you now but I… I understand. At least, I want to. If I let my father kill you, I’d regret it when the anger fades.”
I huffed a laugh. “Wouldn’t want you to regret it.”
“You know what I mean,” he mumbled. “When you’re all stitched up, I’ve got a coach ready to take you to the Summer Palace. You can stay there until you heal enough to forge your own path.”
“I can’t leave you here alone.” I winced at the first prick of the healer’s n
eedle.
“You can stay and die, or leave and live, but both options leave me without a Wing.”
The sorrow in his voice echoed what I felt in my chest. “It’s my duty to die protecting you.”
“Your duty is what I say it is.” He squeezed my shoulder where he still held me steady for the healer. “Now hold still.”
That wasn’t true. Everyone had drilled it into me since I’d arrived at the palace: protect the prince or die trying. But I was in no position to argue. The state of my body left me with no choice but to obey. As the healer worked, I thought about the times I spent with Bastian at the Summer Palace. Carefree summers where we would explore the woods and, when we got older, learned to hunt. Now I would be the prey, though. Hunted by anyone and everyone that wasn’t Bastian as the price on my head was bound to be enormous.
“All finished, Your Highness.” The final snip of the healer’s scissors left the last hole stitched shut. “I have some medication for him to take over the next few days to ward off infection.”
“Thank you,” Bastian said and stood. I fell forward, catching myself with my hands and my elbows trembled with the weight. A clink of coin exchanging hands filled my ears. “Alright,” he said to me once the healer departed. “Let’s get you up.”
“I don’t think I can walk,” I admitted.
“You’ve been stuck on the post for two days without food and water. Even if you weren’t beat to hell, I wouldn’t expect you to.”
Bastian grabbed one of my arms while another pair of hands gripped the other. My gaze flew to the side to find Volney slipping his head beneath my elbow to better carry my weight.
“What the fuck?” I growled. Where the hell had he come from? Was he here the entire time?
“You let me win,” he replied. “If you’re dead, I won’t get a rematch.”
The Prince's Wing Page 18