Page 77 of Wicked Court

This isn’t a spectacle for me to cringe at. It’s a man bearing the weight of past atrocities.

Reaching out with trembling hands, I hesitantly trace my fingertips along the raised lines of his older scars.

Axe remains silent as I map out each one.

His breath holds steady, as if steeling himself against an expected pain by the person standing behind his exposed skin.

“Who did this to you?”

My voice breaks, and I know he hears the tears I’m fighting back.

“It depends which ones you’re asking about. But ultimately, they’re from people who should have protected me.”

The admission is stark, an open wound.

On closer inspection, I notice the pattern. Squinting, I angle my head.

Symbols? Letters? Circles, stars, punctures, X’s…

“What are these supposed to say?” I ask. My voice wavers under the weight of anguish threatening to choke me.

“The newer ones are from the Sovereigns,” Axe answers in an undertone. “They believe the glyphs control me, make me theirs.”

“What?” I rasp. I can hear his words, but processing it is an entirely different thing. “Do Cav, Wilder and Kaspian have these, too?”

“No. Their torture is different.”

A moment more and I pull my hand back, the feel of his raised, puckered skin lingering on the pads of my fingers.

Axe turns to face me, his eyes searching mine for any sign of revulsion.

There’s none.

Instead of drawing out what clearly humiliates him, I reach for his discarded shirt on the ground beside us. Handing it to him wordlessly, I turn away to protect his dignity.

I can hear the whoosh of fabric as he pulls it over his head.

The sound fills me with a strange sort of relief—the relief of knowing that I was not wrong to ask, and he was not wrong to show me.

“You asked why the Sovereigns want the ruby Heart so badly.”

Axe’s voice draws my head up. His words make me turn to face him.

“The Sovereigns, they’re not like the ones before. They’re involved in certain practices. The occult. They indulge in rituals that make them see us—Cav, Wilder, Kaspian and me—not as legacies, but as curses.”

I stare at him with a mixture of confusion and foreboding. “Don’t tell me they’re trying to cure you with black magic?”

Axe takes a step closer, his voice dropping. “They’ve tormented Cav with it so much that he believes?—”

Behind us, branches crack under weight. My senses spike, heart pounding at the sudden prospect of another threat.

Axe tenses, instinctively moving in front of me. His hand goes to something concealed under his jacket, his eyes scanning the bushes.

A figure barrels out of the dense tree line, and I stand in shock as the forest seals itself around us in an envelope of terror.

The last thing I feel is a brush of frantic wind as Axe launches himself forward.

Chapter 24

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