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Yanking at the collar of my grey t-shirt, I second-guessed the colour. I should’ve worn black to hide the pit stains if I started sweating. I prickled with sickening nerves.
I had no idea where I was going, but I followed the clamouring noises of pots and pans and the whiff of tasty things. Stepping into the kitchens shot me back to medieval times with soot-stained ceilings, coal ranges, and harried servants.
The bricked walls formed a circular shape, reminding me of the caves beneath our feet. The huge slab of beef popping and sizzling in a gigantic hearth turned by itself on an automatic rotisserie. Cooks and sous chefs, pastry artisans, and scullery maids; the entire place bustled with activity.
A short, curvy woman with greying hair and a food-stained apron noticed me first.
Abandoning a bubbling pot and wiping her hands on a tea towel hooked into her apron strings, she hustled toward me and tugged on my wrist for me to duck to her short height.
Scowling, I shot a look at the guard watching the mayhem and the other standing by the open door to the outside. A few chickens squawked beyond, kicked at by a young man as he carried in an armful of greens.
I ducked at the knees and tipped forward.
“They’re by the larder,” she whispered. “The camera only has a narrow dead spot. Send the three girls to me. They’ve been talking for long enough. Ensure your back is to the room and be quick about it.”
Before I could ask anything, she pushed me toward the shadowy left corner.
Ily beckoned from where she stood with Rachel, Mollie, and Peter.
My gut churned as I strode toward them.
Shoving my hands into my jeans pockets, I hoped to God I wouldn’t reach for her, kiss her, or try to snatch her away from Peter. Every instinct surged to keep her close. I hated that she’d been away from my side twice this morning.
Twice too many.
Peter never took his dark eyes off me as I ducked around a girl carrying a large tray of sliced fruit. Skin-coloured fingerless gloves and socks covered his hands and feet. His bare chest didn’t seem too bruised, and his linen pants were free from blood.
He looked a damn sight better than he had when I’d carried him back from the caves. That night, his skin had been grey. Now, it glowed with the same honey tan as Ily. Taller than her but just as lean, he could’ve been her brother.
A cousin.
Family.
Gritting my teeth, I gave myself a stern talking to.
You will forgive him for wanting her.
He isn’t competition. He’s her friend. We are on the same side.
Did Ily know she had two men in love with her?
Did she suspect the depth of his feelings?
My heart fisted with a surge of pity for him.
I was the luckiest motherfucker in the world because she’d chosen me. The threads of fate had given her to me. I had no idea what this twin flame thing meant or if it even existed, but I did know Ily was special. Ily was mine. And I would do whatever it goddamn took to get her free.
Including being kind to the man who would never have her.
Stopping in the shadows of a walk-in pantry, I made eye contact with all of them.
Rachel blushed and dropped her gaze.
All the sickness, depression, and horror of that night in Victor’s chambers came back. I had no control as I stepped into her and whispered, “I am so, so sorry for what I did.”
She froze. Her lips parted in shock. “I-It’s…fine.”
“It’s not fine.” I balled my hands. “And I don’t expect you to forgive me. But…it happened. I hurt you. And I’m forever in your debt.” I glanced at Mollie. “I’m in both your debts for not ratting me out to Victor about Ky—”
