Page 110 of The Royal Art of Revenge

She never should have.

Her life should have been a fairytale. It should have been everything she ever could have dreamt of and more.

Instead, it was a nightmare. A horror movie. In ways I can’t possibly begin to fathom. In ways I will probably never know.

And, fuck.

If she’s right, if her hunch that Rosalyn was involved in her kidnapping is correct, I will burn that fucking house down myself.

If she was responsible for doing this to Harriet, her life won’t be worth living.

Hattie’s revenge will be child’s play compared to what I’ll do to her.

“Are you sure you can stay?” Her voice is small. Weak. Tired.

Broken.

As if she’s a burden.

“Yes. I’m sure.” I kiss her hair, tightening my hold on her as if it’ll bring her any closer than she already is. “Whatever you need, just tell me. Whether it’s talking, silence, sleeping... I’ve got all the time in the world for you, baby. Always will have.”

She presses her face against my chest, and her hand trembles where it’s gripping my shirt. “Can we lie down?”

I loosen my hold on her so I can move the covers back, and we slowly untangle from one another. Hattie crawls under them sluggishly, and I stand up to kick off my shoes. She burrows beneath the covers and watches me as I strip from my clothes and change into something more comfortable.

Her eyes are still a little glassy, but she’s behind them now. There’s a brightness that wasn’t there before and thank God for that.

For a moment, I truly feared I would never see her spark again.

I slip into the bed next to her and open my arms. She shuffles into my body, moving her head so I can slide my arm under her neck. Our legs entwine, her toes getting momentarily caught in the sheets before she frees them, and I hold her tightly against me, making sure to tuck the covers in as if I’m wrapping her up in bubble wrap.

“Thank you.” Her words are but a murmur against my bare chest, and she snakes her arm around to my back, hugging me tightly.

I reply with a silent kiss to the top of her head.

She doesn’t need to thank me, but she’s going to. I could say it a thousand times, but she’d still do it. Whatever she’s been told, whatever she’s been conditioned into believing… it can’t be undone overnight.

As much as I wish it were different.

All I can do is be here. Hold her. Rub her back, stroke her hair, ride through these rougher patches with her. As long as she knows she isn’t alone, then I’m doing something right.

Even when it doesn’t feel like enough.

Because it doesn’t.

I want to take it away. I want to reach inside her and rip away every bit of anxiety, every flash of panic, every last bad memory that consumes her so deeply. If I could steal it from her so that she didn’t have to deal it anymore, I would. In a heartbeat. Without a second thought. I would live with it just so she doesn’t have to.

How cruel it is that I can’t.

I glide my fingers through her hair, staring aimlessly at a spot on the other side of the room. I have no idea how long we stay like this. It doesn’t matter. As long as she’s calm. As long as she feels safe. I’ll stay here for days if that’s what she needs me to do.

“People… can be overwhelming.” Hattie’s small voice fills the tiny space between us. “Arguments even more so.”

I say nothing.

Something tells me that if I speak, she’ll stop.

“I’ve never seen my father like that. I’m not a fool. I knew what I was doing would enrage him. It was the whole point, after all. To hurt them.”