by Brenna Lyons
Matthew opened his eyes, needing some reality but the one his mind had concocted for him. The room went in and out of focus for a few gut-clenching moments. When it cleared, little details supported the vision. There was a bottle of wine on the table by the door, a single glass settled next to it.
I wonder what the royal doctors would find if they analyzed it? A sick twisting in his gut accompanied the certainty that he’d been drugged.
His stomach vowed to empty at the first provocation, and he postulated it wasn’t his disgust that accomplished it. Most aphrodisiacs were mild poisons. His stomach lurched again. Or powerful ones.
A soft sigh brought his head around, and his heart pounded in anticipation of Mora feigning his agreement to bed her.
It wasn’t Mora. The lady in question was one he’d spied across the room several times the night before, but he didn’t know her name. She wasn’t one fawning over Benjamin, though she’d milled in and out of that crowd several times.
He took a moment to consider her. Her skin was a fresh pink and her lips a few shades darker. Her hair glowed like the gold silk of his father’s cape in the morning sunlight.
His jaw clenched at her lack of clothing. Wisps of memory taunted him, less than those of Mora but enough to confirm for him that he’d tumbled her as well.
“How many?” he whispered. How many had he bedded in his drugged state? How many had laughed and taken a ride, at his expense?
Matthew turned over her, fighting the urge to throttle her. She gasped, her eyes flying open. At the sight of him, a lazy smile graced her lips.
Then her gaze locked with his, and the smile disappeared. She shrank from him in fear, pressing deep into the mattress.
She’d better fear me. She had also better tell me what I need to know.
* * * *
It took a moment for Sira to decipher the expression on Matthew’s face. Her heart started to pound, and she recoiled from his anger.
He planted his hands on the mattress on either side of her, caging her in, looming over her.
“Matthew?” she managed, her voice squeaking a bit.
“That would be Hein Matthew,” he informed her, one eyebrow rising in challenge.
“H-Hein,” she repeated, nodding her understanding.
“How many of you?” he demanded.
“Wh-what?” What was he asking?
“How many of you was I tricked into bedding, after you drugged me?” His voice rose at that, and his expression promised pain to anyone that stood in his way.
Sira shook her head. There was no answer she could give him.
“Tell me,” he ordered, his muscles tensing to do harm.
“I don’t know. I wasn’t a part of it,” she pleaded.
“Then you admit you drugged me?”
“I admit they drugged you. I was only trying to help you.”
Matthew snorted in disbelief. “I see how you decided to help.”
“You—”
He tensed, and she pushed herself as far into the mattress as she could reach.
“I what?” he growled at her.
“You won’t remember,” she decided miserably. That alone could spell her doom, if he decided to press charges.
He wasn’t mollified. “I remember much more than you might hope I would.” That sounded of a warning.
“If you remembered, I wouldn’t be worried. Your reaction proves you don’t remember...at least not me.”
Matthew visibly calmed himself. “And what are you claiming I should remember?”
“You grabbed me. You pulled me into the bed with you.”
“I had no choice.”
A sob welled in her throat, and Sira swallowed it down. “Perhaps not,” she conceded. “The drug was apparently very powerful.”
Her agreement seemed to mollify him...for a moment. “How many?” he repeated.
“I don’t know. I know only...only the one I interrupted.” Her face burned at the memory of Mora riding him.
“Mora,” he spat. “Did you think it funny?”
She shook her head, misery eating at her. “It was wrong. I told them. I told—”
“You had no right,” he whispered. His expression eased into confusion. “You had no right to do this to him.”
Sira didn’t reply to him. Either he remembered it, or he didn’t.
Matthew pushed away from her, settling with his back against the wall, scrubbing his hands down his face. “You said that. Didn’t you? It was your voice...your...face. I know it was.”
She nodded. “Yes. I did.”
His eyes closed, and he laid his head back against the wall. For a long moment, he said nothing more. “Go. Leave me.” It was weary, the voice of a man exhausted in body and spirit.
Sira knew that feeling, since she suffered it herself. She didn’t question him further. She pushed from the bed, pleasant and not so pleasant aches slowing her progress.
Her shirt was hung over the foot of the bed. She pulled it on and went searching for the rest. She had her shoes in hand when she found the skirt shoved under the bureau. She retrieved it and started to pull it up her legs, stilling at Matthew’s voice.
“Come here.”
She finished pulling it up and half-turned, trying to gauge his expression. It was one she couldn’t fathom and didn’t want to delve too deeply into...something between shock and suspicion, perhaps. She didn’t go to him, tying up her skirt instead and blousing the shirt over it.
“I said to come here,” he repeated, none too gently.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she replied calmly, heading for the door. She could put her shoes on elsewhere.
At the sound of him moving, she ran, bolting into the corridor and down the wing toward the doors and freedom...or at least the illusion of it. A glance back told her that he’d stopped to dress and hadn’t followed her in the nude.
She’d almost reached the central staircase when someone grasped her arm and dragged her into one of the dormitory-style rooms set up for the young women in attendance. Sira stumbled in with a squawk of surprise, coming face to face with Lodi. She pushed the older woman away with a grumbled curse on her entire family.
Lodi released her, shooting a sheepish look at Sira, then at the crowd of “ladies” behind her. “I take it he’s angry,” she guessed.
“Don’t you think he has the right to be?” Sira snapped back, raising one shoe and slipping her foot in with unsteady hands.
“Perhaps.”
“Per... Perhaps?” Sira fairly screamed that at her, lowering her foot.
Lodi motioned for silence, and several of her cohorts winced, shifting nervously.
“Are you mad?” Sira asked in a calmer voice. “How could you do this?”
“Mora had to face censure, so she wouldn’t try something so underhanded again,” Lodi reasoned, seemingly unperturbed by the outburst.
Nuay nodded her agreement. “She had to be taught a lesson.”
Sira felt her temper coming uncorked. “With a willing man, perhaps. But this was hurtful, criminal. It was—”
Lodi interrupted her. “Have you told him who we are?”
“Hein Matthew hasn’t asked...yet.” She worked on the other shoe, finally sliding it on, and lowering her leg.
“And when he does?” she challenged, straightening, as if Sira would back down from such a threat in her mood.
“I will turn you over in an instant. You had no right to do this. Neither will I go to prison as conspirator to something I had no part—”
The door behind her opened, and Sira stiffened. She didn’t turn to look. She was afraid to. Whether it was Hein Matthew or his guards, the next few minutes were going to be ugly.
“And...here you are,” he drawled. There was a moment of silence. “How convenient that I recognize several faces...and all in one place.”
Lodi’s look of confidence faded, and she paled alarmingly, backing off several steps.
Sira didn’t question wh
y. The heat at her back was answer enough. She swallowed hard, all too aware of Hein Matthew close enough to... She didn’t want to contemplate what he would do when he laid hands on her again.
His whisper teased at her ear. “I gave you an order,” he reminded her.
Tears pricked at her eyes. Sira nodded, envisioning a prison cell. Here she was, with the conspirators. The Hein had no reason to trust her. The cell was probably her fate.
His heat receded somewhat. “Let me get this in perspective. You ladies were angry with Mora, because...?”
No one answered. Hein Matthew ambled around Sira, turning halfway toward her and catching her eye. His expression demanded an answer.
“She was trying to use the drug to seduce Prince Benjamin,” she reported.
Nuay had told her as much when she’d dragged Sira off to “witness Mora’s comeuppance.” If everyone would see prison time, Mora wasn’t going to be left behind. The drug wouldn’t have fallen into Lodi’s hands, if not for Mora’s plans to use it.
Hein Matthew’s eyes widened, and he motioned to someone at the door. “Check Benjamin,” he ordered. “Check him now.”
Footsteps pounding away were all the clue she needed that guards were in the corridor. She wondered how many, then decided she didn’t want to know.
The Hein recovered quickly, his eyes narrowing. He crossed his arms over his bare chest, and Sira looked away, the memory of tasting that chest too raw and close for comfort.
“You wanted Benjamin for yourself?” he asked.
The silence was nerve-wracking. Why didn’t someone answer him?
A throat clearing brought her attention back to the Hein. No one was answering, because he was staring her down, addressing her personally, as far as anyone with manners would assume, given his stance.
Sira shook her head. “It was obvious that His Highness was taken only with Mora and Alana,” she offered. “I was hoping for Alana, personally.”
“So was I,” he admitted. Hein Matthew motioned around the room, without taking his eyes off of Sira. “These are the ones who drugged me? These are the ones you were arguing with last night?”
She hesitated, realizing that no woman would trust her, if she did this. The Hein waited for her answer, his arms tensing.
“Yes.” Sira’s stomach twisted in the combination of hunger and apprehension. “I don’t know which... I didn’t see which one or ones actually did it; I wasn’t there when they...drugged you. But yes. They were the ones I was arguing—”
“Honestly-given and well-stated, I believe. Gentlemen, I have heard enough.”
A hand closed around her arm but loosely, and Sira closed her eyes, torn between looking at the guard and simply following him to her fate.
“If you would,” he began.
“That one comes with me, Johnus.”
Sira started shaking, wondering if this boded well or poorly for her. Considering his anger that she’d disobeyed him, it probably boded ill.
The hand retreated, and another circled her opposite arm. She didn’t question that it was Hein Matthew’s.
“Come with me,” he ordered gruffly, drawing her along.
Sira stumbled. He paused for a moment, and she opened her eyes, realizing the futility of trying to follow along without watching where she was going. She reconsidered that when she caught sight of the Hein’s expression of exasperation. She looked away at the guards, and he started leading her again.
He offered no conversation, and neither did she. What was there to say?
At his room, he ushered her inside and closed the door. He led her to the stool, now at the center of the room, then seemed to reconsider and turned her toward the bed.
Panic bloomed in her, and Sira planted her feet, shaking her head. Whatever he was doing, she wanted no part of it.
Hein Matthew pulled her to face him, locking his hands on her arms, just tight enough to restrain her but also tight enough to press at the existing bruises he’d left, reminding her that he was strong and angry...and powerful enough to explain away taking retribution on her. His jaw tightened in fury.
Sira expected him to point out that she hadn’t minded the night before. He didn’t.
“Are you sore?” he challenged.
She considered that. She was sore, but why would that matter?
“Are you?” That time, it was stated in a calmer voice, and his grip eased.
“Yes.”
“Then you’ll want the bed. I will take the stool.” He released her, settling on it, as promised.
Sira stared at him, confused by his sudden show of concern. She backed toward the bed, sinking to the edge, her eyes locked on him.
Why? What do I think he’s going to do? Vault across the room and attack me?
Hein Matthew shifted, finding a more comfortable position, and she backed away along the mattress, admitting to herself that she really did fear it. And why wouldn’t she? He’d been physically attacked and made a fool of, and he thought her part of it.
A pained expression settled on his face. “You were virginal.”
He didn’t question it. Sira wasn’t certain if he intended her to answer, so she took the safer route and nodded.
A series of curses streamed from between his clenched teeth. Hein Matthew panned his gaze up her body. “Did I hurt you?”
Sira stared at him, her brow knitted so hard the muscles complained.
“You were virginal, and I had no self-control. You say I grabbed you, that I pulled you into the bed. Did I harm you?”
* * * *
Matthew’s heart pounded, and his palms went slick with sweat. The scratches on his chest burned a reminder that he’d almost certainly done something she didn’t sanction.
If I’ve hurt her, I will push for the most severe punishments my father and the Counselors will allow.
She shook her head slowly. “No. I’m not hurt. Just the normal aches of a...” Her cheeks went crimson, and she averted her eyes again.
“Are you sure? I can call a doctor, if you—”
“No. Please. I’m certain I’m fine.” Her half-choking voice called her a liar.
“Did I force you? Did I force you to a single thing? Please, do not lie to me about this.” Goddess, this could drive a person mad. His memories were fractured; he could be certain of so little.
What would he do, if he had? How could he make amends for it?
She didn’t raise her head. “No. You...you seduced me, to be sure, but I was willing.”
“That isn’t what I asked,” he grumbled. “I asked if I forced you. Did I...” He wasn’t certain how to phrase it delicately. Perhaps the doctor would be best.
“You did ask—”
Matthew snapped. “Did I hold you down? Did I—”
“Yes.”
His heart stuttered. “I...what did I...” Her expression was so heartbreakingly innocent and lost, it tore at him. Goddess, what have I done?
“When you pulled me into the bed, you held me down. Hein Matthew, I don’t understand—”
“They will pay for this,” he vowed. “They will spend the rest of their days in cells...no matter how short a time that may be.”
She paled, and her shaking intensified. “I don’t under—”
He stood, intent on holding her and calming her. She scrambled to the far side of the bed, her breathing harsh and uneven, her eyes wide. Matthew put up his hands in a calming gesture, and she relaxed, her small hand unfisting against the quilt, her delicate fingers splaying out on the dark fabric.
A memory of that fist pressed to his chest ripped through his mind. Hein, please. This isn’t— He’d silenced her with a kiss, a brutal one.
Goddess, please let that be a phantom, a nightmare and not fact.
“I don’t understand,” she repeated, seemingly pleading with him.
“I think you do,” he replied calmly. At every move toward her, she runs from me. I must have frightened her to death, scarred her for the act, perhaps scarred he
r to men, in general.
She shook her head, tears pooling in her eyes.
“How far did I force you?” he asked, easing toward her.
She didn’t retreat from him, not that she had anywhere else to go but over the footboard and out the door again. “I don’t understand.” Her eyes widened. “You think... No, it wasn’t like that. You didn’t...” She paled a shade.
“I didn’t?” Matthew prompted her, taking another step toward her.
“You didn’t...rape me. You kissed, yes, but... You must know that I was convinced and not unwilling.”
He nodded, settling to the edge of the bed. She gasped but didn’t move away from him.
“I will not harm you,” he promised. “You have my vow on that.”
She nodded, taking a deep breath.
Matthew eased his hand over hers, squeezing lightly. “You don’t know what to expect from me.”
“No,” she replied weakly. “I don’t. Are you still...”
“Still?” he prompted her.
“Angry with me? I didn’t... I swear to you that I had no part of it,” she added miserably. “I only wanted to help.”
A spike of guilt pierced deep at that. After what he did to her...however she wanted to minimize it, his treatment upon waking had been deplorable. “I know you did,” he offered.
Her eyes closed, and her body relaxed. He noted the dark circles under her eyes, her pallor, her shaking. This was his fault.
No. It is their fault, and they will pay for it.
Matthew raised her hand to his mouth, pressing his lips to it, a silent promise that he would make this as right as he could.
Her eyes opened, and a tear spilled down one cheek. With that one drop, he knew he could never take away what she’d suffered.
And what she still might. Goddess, what a mess this was.
“If you carry...” he began.
A second tear spilled. “I will ask nothing,” she promised. “Your actions were not your own. I know that.”
You will have everything I have to give.
But now was not the time to argue with her. Considering the circumstances, she might choose not to carry the babe at all, and the law would allow her termination...now or in the future. “You will contact me when you know for certain,” he replied.