Page 36 of The King's Queen

“Nothing!” I say too quickly, reaching out for his arm. He jumps back as if burned. “He did nothing to me. I did this, I chose this. If you would let me explain-“

“Explain what exactly? How you’ve been acting strange lately? How I came to check on you because I was worried and found out you weren’t here? How, when you came back,hewas carrying you— your gods-damned tutor was carrying you unconscious and bloody in the silks of a courtesan. So explain to me what, Verosa, you have been doing. What has he done to you?”

My face burns, but I refuse to linger on the fact that he worried for me. That he came. If I could get on my knees I would, if I thought I could get up and not face the king. If Lucius never had to find out, to see the look of betrayal on his face when he knew I was running.

“Please.” A tear slips down the bridge of my nose, then a second. How had it gotten so out of control so quickly? When did the silver of my friend’s eyes turn into cool unflinching iron?

A heavy sigh, then shuffling as gentle hands rested on my arm. I lifted my gaze to Torin’s, his usual jovial grin gone and replaced with a thin frown. The sight nearly breaks me— breaks me enough that I didn’t wonder where he had appeared from.

“You two need to lower your voices before someone else comes snooping and reports back to Ophelus,” he hisses, explaining his entrance. “Vera, you’re going to go into that bathroom and clean yourself. Then you will give me those clothes, and I will take care of it. We are going to tell everyone you’re sick and not to be seen, and then the three of us are going to figure this out.”

No questions asked, no judgment evident in his voice. Just the cool and calculating voice of the captain’s second, taking control of the situation. With a nod and not another word spoken, I slink off into the bathroom and gasp when I catch sight of myself in one of the many long mirrors.

No wonder Blaine has gone pale.

The already scandalous sash across my breasts is torn, blood and dirt covering the fabric where it barely covers anything anymore. My midriff is wrapped with what I recognize as Derrín’s handiwork, distinguished from Amír’s by the way the bandages are already falling—not that I’m ungrateful. Someone had taken great care to remove all the glass that had imbedded itself under my skin and to apply a salve on all the little lacerations. Another bandage was covering the entirety of my calf, and I wince as I remember the flash of the blade as it skinned my leg. Tiny cuts, already healing, lace my arms. My legs. I may have well just been dug up from my grave.

Limping to the tub, I draw a hot bath, grateful for the commodity of running water more now than ever. Slowly, using a carefully concealed dagger that Kya had hidden in my bosom, I cut the flimsy fabric from my form. Shivering naked in the cold bathroom, I remove all the bandages and lower myself into the tub.

The hot water elicits a hiss of pain from my lips as it makes contact with my wounds. Torin calls from the other room, and Blaine is already limping for the door when I call out that I’m fine. No, the pain is a welcome distraction. Something tells me the following conversation is going to be far worse than this. With the slowest of strokes, I drag a rag across my broken skin, languishing in the hot water mixing with my golden blood.

Torin takes the silks the moment I step out from my bathroom, clad only in a light pink robe. Blaine coughs, some of his color returning to his face as Torin hands a more modest nightgown my way. I raise an eyebrow as if to ask how he knew where to find it, but he only grins. A welcome sight.

“For the captain’s sake.”

My dry lip splits as I try to crack a smile, and I excuse myself to the bathroom again as both men rush forward in a panic.

By the time I return, clothed like I had been sleeping peacefully in my bed all night until I woke up feverish, Torin is sprawled himself across my bed. Blaine sits on the same stool Rowan had only an hour before. Inexplicably, the thought sends a pang through my heart.

“So, here’s how this is gonna go.” Torin’s expression turns grim again as he pats the bed beside him. Slowly, I sit. “You’re going to tell us everything. Don’t bother leaving anything out, or else Blaine here is just going to assume the worst and rip your tutor to shreds the next time he sees.”

I almost laugh. He can certainly try.

“And then, we are going to fix whatever mess you’ve gotten yourself into, okay?” His hands grasp mine so earnestly, his voice cracking with sincerity, and I know that it’s not only Blaine who had assumed the worst when he saw his princess dressed in the teal garb of a courtesan covered in blood.

Quietly, I tell them everything, from running away that first night and meeting Rowan, though I leave out the names of Aiko and Finneas just in case the king does hear. I tell them how I still have bruises from Kya knocking me on my ass for weeks, the glares from Amír that live in my nightmares, and how I nearly wept when I realized they didn’t abandon me tonight. They listen attentively, everyone careful not to breath too loudly as the castle comes to rise. They listen until the words stop coming, and then we sit in silence.

Torin is the first to speak.

“Well, shit.”

“Such eloquence after I just spilled my heart to you.” I laugh softly and nervously, my gaze darting to where Blaine now stands with his hands in his pockets. His shoulders curved inwards. “Say something. Please.”

“What is there to say?” His cold indifference hits like a brick to the chest. Silently, I stare, pleading at him to look at me. To understand.

“Okay then.” I hate the way my voice cracks. “I don’t plan on stopping. I’m leaving this palace, when I do depends on you two. If you tell the king, then I’m leaving now. If you don’t, then I’ll stay until I know I can keep myself safe. Until Rowan is finished training me.”

Blaine swears softly under his breath, his face a mask of cool rage. “I don’t like this. He’s just using you.”

“And I’m using him,” I reassure the irate captain. “I just need him to train me to survive on my own. I will have to cross the border, maybe even leave through the port. There’s a large harbor in Varium if I could just get there first. I’ll start a new life, where people have never heard of Princess Verosa of Krycolis.”

“I don’t like this. Not one bit.” The captain, the man I loved and called a friend, spins on his heel and turns his back to me.

“Where are you going?” No response. “I didn’t see you caring when my father sold me off to Lucius under the guise of a political alliance.” My words come out sharper than I had intended, a sparking rage that demands to be released. “I’m not in the position to wait anymore.”

That rage is smothered by a cool blanket of ice the moment I watch the captain’s shoulders stiffen, and his voice comes out as a croak.

“Why do you think I didn’t seal that passage?”

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