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How was I supposed to overcome this, especially alone?
My white flame dimmed in my chest, doused by the tidalwave of despair that rose from my trauma, and tears burned in my eyes as that helpless feeling pulled me beneath the surface. Faster and faster my breaths came, pricks of black dotting my vision as panic exploded from my core. Bile rose in my throat, and I gagged on my breath before dropping the reins and bolting to the nearest tree. Bracing myself on it, I heaved the contents of my stomach onto the array of pine needles coating the forest floor, though not much came up. Ruslan made no move to follow, and for that I was relieved. The tree slightly obscured him, and I used the opportunity to regain control of my breath, using the flow of air in and out of my nostrils to ease the sharp pain that gripped my chest.
I was a survivor. I was strong. I was powerful. I was an insidious bloom, and he would not see my thorns until it was too late.
I repeated the phrases over and over until the threat of further gagging subsided. Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I returned to where Ruslan and the horse waited patiently.
“Are you alright?” he murmured.
I hoped the hate in my eyes was evident as I stared him down. “No, I am not. I have panic attacks when I get overwhelmed, or startled, or fear for my life. Why? Because you fucking people abused me from the time I could talk. I spent my entire life chained in a cave. I had no contact with anyone besides males who would beat me, tear me down psychologically, or rape me, and a group of females who pretended like everything was perfectly normal when they showed up once a month, despite the fact that more often than not I was covered in bruises or blood or both!
“And now, I have to sit here and listen to you tell me how fucking amazing you are. That you are my mate and we’re going to conquer the continent with your father. That all of that abuse was meant to break me so that you could mold me into aweapon for your own desires. But guess what, I am not broken! I am here, I am angry, and I am tired of males acting like they are so superior. You are no better than my father – who I killed, by the way – or the other High Lords of his court. Why would I be alright when I am with you?”
Ruslan only blinked as I finished my verbal assault, my chest heaving with unreleased anger. I had so much more to say, and I was ready to unleash another torrent when he fell to his knees before me, grasped my hands, and brought them to his face. I flinched, ripping my hands away, but he reached for my waist instead and pulled me into him. Pushing against his shoulders, I struggled in his hold, turning this way and that, but as he buried his face into my jacket his grip was as unbreakable as the irons that had chained me for so long.
“I had no idea that you suffered so much… they were never meant to hurt you, or touch you,” his words were muffled by the fabric of my clothing. “They were meant to show you the way – our way, so you would be compliant when the time came.”
I shoved at his head again, wanting no part in this insincere apology. He only gripped me tighter, his shoulders shuddering with wracked breath.
Was he seriously faking tears?
“Save your breath, I know you don’t mean a single word of what you’re saying,” I spat. “The only education I received was how to numb out of my existence as your kin made me bleed.”
His black hair shifted as he tilted his head up, his slate eyes shining with a desperation that made me cringe. “Izidora, I will spend my whole life making this up to you, helping you heal these wounds you carry. I should have checked on you, rather than leaving you in the hands of others. Our fathers were the ones who arranged for your care, and they would not allow my involvement until you came of age. On your twenty-first birthday, I was on my way to surprise you and to whisk you away tothe palace I built for us, where I planned to shower you with treasure and love. But when I arrived, all the guards were freshly dead, and you were nowhere to be found. I waited for that day for so long, and to find you were not there almost destroyed me. I went out of my mind trying to find you, fearing the worst. Please, Izidora, see that I mean this,” he begged, his hands fisting in the fabric of my jacket as he clutched me to him.
He used my name for the first time.
All I could do was blink as I absorbed his explanation, sincerity and despair weaving among his words. My father was a sick bastard who admitted to allowing the abuse to happen, even contributing guards from the Night Realm while he sent Kazimir and the Nighthounds racing around the continent looking for me. For that, I killed my father without regret, and King Azim was next on my list. The two self-important males could rot in hell together.
Ruslan must have sensed my wavering resolve, because he relaxed his hands, resting them on the backs of my thighs instead of nearly tearing my jacket and tunic from my torso. The tension in the air between us was palpable as he waited for me to speak, to acknowledge his words. Escape was high on my priority list, but I had to be smart about it. I knew, more than anything, hownotto escape after so many attempts in the cave. I also knew how to manipulate and pretend to be who someone wanted me to be. I didn’t believe a word he’d said, but heaving a sigh, I backed out of his embrace, holding my hand out to him as my keepers in the cave had taught me. “My Prince, I see that you mean your words. Let’s start over. Hi, I’m Princess Izidora.”
He grasped my outstretched hand like it was a lifeline and he was drowning. His rakish smile flashed his white teeth and jolted my low belly. “Pleased to meet you, Princess. Can I get you something to drink?”
“Some water would be lovely. Thank you, Your Highness,” I said, giving him a tight smile.
I was so fucking tired of doing what I had to do to survive.
He pushed to his feet, his hand never leaving mine as he led me and his horse to the camp. I cringed internally, but his shift in mood - however sudden and strange - was welcome, and if I could maintain it, maybe he would let his guard down long enough for me to flee.
“I’ll be right back,” he promised, dropping me in front of the fire, returning only a moment later with a canteen and a blanket. He wrapped the thick fur around my shoulders like he was wrapping the most precious of gemstones, gently tucking in each corner until I was fully enveloped in warmth. His tenderness was antithetical to his earlier aggression, and I was developing whiplash from his abrupt shifts in mood.
In another act of kindness, he sipped from the metal canteen, then handed it to me to drink. The water was cold and refreshing, washing away the taste of bile in my mouth. Satisfied that I was comfortable, he seated himself behind me, caging me in with his legs to keep the blanket firmly in place when I accepted a plate piled with food from one of the soldiers. Hunger overtook caution as I tore into the roasted meat and vegetables, my belly demanding sustenance. Funny how I went years without a proper meal every day, but a few months with good food completely reversed my body’s tolerance for starvation.
The lack of camaraderie was apparent around the crackling fires, which highlighted grim faces and unmoving lips. Few dared sit near Ruslan and me, and despite my hatred of the current situation, I was desperate for a joke from Kriztof or a trick from the twins, Zekari and Kirigin. Endre’s quiet companionship held none of the tension that lay between Ruslan andme. I’d even settle for Vadim’s licentious tales or Viktor’s brilliant mind.
My eyes burned, and I bit down on my lip to suppress the sob that wanted to break free. I missed the Nighthounds, my friends, and the wood smoke scent surrounding me sent a stab to my heart as it reminded me of our time together.
Don’t think about it, don’t think about it.
I repeated the phrase over and over while I stared, unseeing, at the food in my hands. But it was no use, not as the scene at that damned feast played out over and over behind my eyes.
Kriztof leaping to his feet, hurling a dagger at King Zalan, only to be pinned by the king’s guards, the executioner’s blade poised to strike. Vadim tackling the would-be executioner. Liliana’s scream as her brother launched himself from their table. The Knights jumping to action, Zekari and Kirigin leading the charge against those who sought to kill their brother-in-arms. Viktor and Endre preparing to die so Kazimir and I could escape the chaos as Ruslan’s soldiers flooded the ballroom.
A lone tear mapped my cheek, dripping onto my plate as I ducked my head and chewed my food, hiding the grief that surged from my soul. Food turned to ash in my mouth at the thought of my friends lying dead in Este Castle, and it took all my willpower to choke down the last few bites, needing all the sustenance I could manage to get me through whatever came next.
When my plate was clean, Ruslan lifted it from my hands, then spun me to face him. Even squatting on a fallen log, I had to tilt my chin up to look upon his face. “Do you want to know how I know you are my mate?”
I narrowed my eyes at him in response.
