Page 136 of The Forsaken Heir
“How do you feel?” I asked. “Do you need water or anything?”
“Or a beer?” Rasp offered.
“I’m fine,” Aurelius said with a weary smile. “Just tired. Exhausted, really, but other than that, I’m all right.”
He yawned, and his eyelids drooped.
“You rest, son,” Cassius said. “We’ll be here when you wake up.”
Aurelius nodded and closed his eyes. “I’m so glad to be home.” His breathing evened out, and his hand went slack in mine.
“We’ll leave you guys alone with him,” Rasp said.
Vince gazed down at Aurelius, chewing at his lower lip.
Rasp nudged him. “Let’s go, bro.”
Vincent frowned at him. “You meant me too?”
Rasp rolled his eyes. “Yes, dude.Jesus,come on.”
The two of them left, and I stroked Aurelius’s arm.
“Are you hungry, dear?” the king asked. “I could have food brought down.”
The last thing I wanted was food, but at the mention of a meal, my stomach gurgled.
“Honestly, that would be great.” I stood. “You stay. I’ll go to the kitchens. He’s your son.”
Cassius was quick to put a hand on my shoulder, forcing me to stay put. “No, dear. You stay. It’s fine. I’ll be back in a bit.”
Before I could argue, the king slipped through the door with a speed and grace that belied his age. I stared down at Aurelius, taking inventory of his wounds. Each one was an affront to me. A signal emblazoned on Aurelius’s skin that my brother Bastien was a madman. Silently, I vowed that he would answer for each and every one of these wounds a hundred times over.
When the door opened a few minutes later, I assumed it would be the king returning with food. Instead, I found Freddy stepping into the room.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hey.”
“Can I sit?”
I nudged the other stool toward him, and he took a seat beside me. We sat in silence for several long moments. The exhaustion of what happened had drained us so thoroughly that neither of us had the energy to talk much.
“I’m sorry,” Freddy said at last.
“About what? Aurelius? That’s not your fault. Bastien did this.”
He shook his head, and his face crumpled into a miserable mask of self-hatred and loathing.
“No. Abouteverything. What Mom and Dad did to you. Sending you away.”
A knot formed in my stomach as the old pain and sadness threatened to bubble back to the surface.
“You didn’t do that either,” I mumbled, unable to add any life or volume to my voice.
“But Icouldhave. When you left I was a kid, sure, but later? I could have written to you. Called you. Could have found you on social media and sent you messages. I didn’t.” He pounded his fist into his thigh. “I was too goddamned scared of what our parents or Bastien might do if they found out. It was the same with Sophia. We sort of left you in the cold.
“When I saw you at the house before that disaster of a ceremony? I was certain you hated me. I watched you guys pull up through one of the windows and wondered what you’d do when you saw me. Slap me, slug me? Maybe spit in my face?—”
