Page 32 of Rise of a Fallen Man

“Ari?” Lady Gem called in a subdued voice.

Her footfalls moved closer, and Ari jerked away from me.

“I’m sorry,” she finished her sentence in the most heartbreaking way.

As she hurriedly straightened her clothes, reality rushed in, and it was cold and brutal.

She wasn’t mine.

“Princess.” I reached for her as if grasping for the remnants of a disappearing dream.

She caught my hand before it touched her face and kissed my palm gently.

“I have to go,” she whispered. “Please, please stay safe.”

Then she was gone.

Chapter 9

Ari

Iyanked the curtains closed behind me, hiding Salas from view. Gem turned around the corner, searching for me. Her probing eyes found me in the dim light of the hallway.

“I needed a minute away from the noise,” I explained, briskly walking toward her.

But the lady chamberlain wasn’t so easily fooled. It took her less than a second to assess the disheveled state of my hair and the loose fit of my bodice. Next, her gaze flicked to the empty wine bottles standing by the wall.

“Is that so?” she asked flatly, her brow pinched in a frown. “Did you want a minute alone or a minute in the company of someone you know you shouldn’t be with?”

If I felt guilty about what had just happened between Salas and me, it was not because of Gem. My relationship with my cousin had deteriorated. Part of me missed what we used to have, but another part of me always knew that the relationship between us was never balanced. It’d only worked because I’d allowed Gem’s dominance, and it was destined to fail the moment I pushed back.

“I outgrew the need for a nanny long ago,” I snapped, brushing past her.

She caught up with me by the front door. “Where are you going?”

“Back to the palace. I’m not returning to the party.”

“Thank Goddess, you’re not,” she scoffed. “Not in that freshly fucked state.”

My cheeks flared with blush. I brought a hand up to my hair, trying to smooth it down. Shame crept into my chest, settling in next to guilt. I hated it, hated to feel ashamed of Salas or of anything that we’d shared.

I shoved the front door open.

“I’ll send the carriage back for you.”

“No need.” Gem followed me out into the courtyard. “I’m coming with you.”

The worst of today’s summer shower seemed to have passed, leaving behind the dark puddles on the ground. The air smelled like wet dirt now. The rain clouds had thinned but didn’t disappear completely, saturating the courtyard with a fine mist of drizzle. I welcomed the tiny droplets on my flushed face. The gloomy day was turning into a calm, pleasant evening.

I wasn’t looking forward to sharing the carriage ride with Gem on the way home. As short as the ride would be, her pursed mouth and determined stride didn’t promise an amicable company.

“Wouldn’t your golden-haired gladiator be upset if you left so early?” I asked, crossing the courtyard.

“He’ll survive,” she dismissed, gesturing to the servant by the gate to get our carriage. “And Falo isn’t golden-haired, by the way. His actual hair is brown. The gold comes from the lemon-camomile brew the healing witch makes for him to wash his hair with.”

I blinked at her, unsure about what to do with that piece of information. “I didn’t know that.”

“Few people do.” She smirked, climbing into the carriage when it had arrived. “Falo guards this secret rigorously. He only admitted it after I’d seen him with his pants off. Apparently, as wonderful as the witch’s brew is for the hair on his head, he’s afraid to use it around his cock.” She laughed. “And so, his crotch remains very naturally dark.”

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