Page 96 of Haunted

65

I don’t go to bed. I don’t sleep. I’m disgusted with myself. I’m angry.

I’ve never been one for dungeons. The stale air, the stench of unwashed bodies and piss. Prince Kenrik is in the upper dungeon, but the accommodations aren’t any more pleasant, and the air is still vile.

The prince takes my rage.

Niawen would be better off with him. I know it. I offer the prince no words for my appearance. Like a coward, I beat him while he’s chained to the wall.

The prince moans after every punch. He yells and spits on me. “What did I do?”

I do not open my mouth. Everything that is dark and despicable about me, all my pent up restraint, is unleashed on the prince who loves her.

He hasn’t done any wrong. His only mistake is loving Niawen. My only wrong was caring for Empress Rhianu. Because she twisted me, I hurt Niawen.

You are forgetting her stain, which you also inflicted upon her. You sent those men. She killed them to defend the prince she loved. Kelyn.

The princes.

Kelyn and Kenrik.

She flirted with them.

I punch the prince again.

She knows of lust.

Crunch. His rib cracks.

I have not been the first to tempt her. She knows the taste of men. Her flirtations might not have been raw like the passion between the empress and me, but Niawen has felt sensuality. She’s had her lips pressed to Kelyn’s.

I scream and send one final punch flying into Kenrik’s face. His head lolls to one side.

He’s unconscious.

I shake my fist out and wipe the blood from my knuckles onto a rag. What does Niawen want with me? I am no prince. Why are we toying with each other?

I turn from the bloody torso, composed, but not any less confused.

66

I wait for her the following evening, with a flickering fire warming the dark cold of my room, our room. Niawen tiptoes in, but my back is turned away as I lie in bed. I’m furious with her, and I have no right to be.

When she slides between the covers, I growl, “You missed supper.” I’m hurt, and I let her feel that emotion.

I should apologize for the way I kissed her, but she left me, alone all night and all day, with no word. She went about her duties as a healer. I tracked her, but I thought she would have sought me out at some point, at least confronted me in a passionate eruption that was so characteristic of her.

She says nothing. I don’t move. I breathe steady and wait for her to do or say anything.

I did have a point to prove last night. She is here, so she didn’t heed my warning—that I am dangerous.

All day long an ache accosted me. I couldn’t understand it, until she didn’t make an appearance at dinner.

I truly missed her.

I missed her the entire day.

My whole existence felt barren without her.

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