Chapter Twenty-One

The air grew a little fresher, and a spot of light appeared ahead as they neared the end after an eternity. The narrow exit had been covered with vines and grass that Crossbow cleared enough so they could get through. Sébastien almost tripped on the uneven ground when they stepped out, and the Knight kept him up with a shake like that would put strength back into him.

Anybody passing by wouldn't notice it unless they were close and decided to take a hard look around. He doubted anyone would be walking through this spot. Vines hung from the trees, the undergrowth was thick, and plant life claimed as much space as possible. Crossbow and Frown set the lanterns inside after tapping them out.

While they covered the hole, Sébastien considered going for the Knight's sword and dagger. He'd be half useless with one good side.

If he healed Sébastien's shoulder now…

Nope. Crossbow and Spear went ahead, likely to ensure the way was clear as they moved. Mal took the lead of those left and cast Sébastien a suspicious glance like she thought he'd suddenly attack and attempt to slaughter them despite his state.

These were the special people the Regent had hired. Sam had slipped a fib into his story. No one had been planning to wait for him and the group in Midland. They'd gone to act as the Regent's guard dogs.

That meant the rest of the Knights weren't far.

Not a soul was nearby as they went. Sébastien, sweaty and bloody, had more trouble on the terrain. Cuts on the bottom of his feet made walking hurt. The Knight's nasty hand threatened to drag up things he didn't want to think about, and the pain was a steady throb that he couldn't ignore. Nobody cared about how he felt.

He was ready to be dead weight by the time the shrubbery lessened. They came to the road he and Remus had ridden on. Unfortunately, no one was passing by. Crossbow rushed back to say it was safe. They hurried, and Sébastien was forced along.

His heart hurt as it beat faster, and truths he didn't want to think about pressed on him. He didn't have long for one.

As they fought through more undergrowth and bushes, and the smell of salt eventually nudged his senses, the rest came. He might get passed around because Uncle was sick enough to do something like that. If raping his nephew as a boy was nothing, letting others have a turn would also be nothing. Uncle would be glad to see him further crushed and destroyed. Why not stomp on the pieces he'd ripped from an innocent boy? Why not twist him a little more?

He'd so liked the tears Sébastien hadn't been able to hold in at the age of fourteen.

The worst truth was that Remus wasn't going to be able to protect him. It was over, and they wouldn't even get one more night together. He wasn't going to let himself hope either.

His chest ached as the ocean became visible. A single ship drifted ahead, and Crossbow ran ahead with a white cloth that he pulled from his sleeve to wave.

The ship turned to shore as they came to the beach. Mal and Frown went right and rejoined them with two rowboats that they dragged.

They all had the look of fighters. Their snug, dark clothes, suitable for sneaking through the forest and camping out in a dirty tunnel if needed, showed muscles. Mal had a faint scar on her neck, and he had a feeling all of them except for the Knight had been mercenaries who fought in wars for pay while not caring which country was right or wrong. They likely went after bounties and did the occasional dirty job. Sébastien was a dirty job.

He wasn't allowed to climb into a lifeboat at the shore. The Knight tied his hands behind his back, careless of his wound. When a cloth was slipped over his eyes, his pulse pounded in his ears. He wouldn't be able to see anything or what was coming even if he couldn't stop it. He tried to stay still, but panic made him jerk even though it was too late and the cloth had been knotted.

A fist slammed into his gut. Whether the Knight did it out of malice or whether Corentin signaled was unknown. Sébastien was thrown into the shallow surf, and he almost sucked in a lungful. He tasted salt, and it soaked through his clothes to burn in the bloody hole. With his hands bound, he could only use his legs.

As he tried to get to his knees, a hand fisted his hair and shoved his head down. The panic exploded in him that time as he struggled to get up enough so he could breathe. Corentin must have told them what he hated and feared most. Being unable to lift his head or breathe was a special kind of terror, not that Uncle had ever cared.

He thrashed as his face was shoved into the sandy bottom and something scraped his cheek. More pain shot through his shoulder as he pulled on the rope holding his wrists together, kicked, and struggled against the vile hand keeping from getting air.

He was yanked up. A few hairs were surely pulled out. His chest threatened to burst as he sucked in air and coughed. Whoever had him, likely the Knight, dragged him to one side.

"I bet you'll behave now."

He was tossed into the rowboat like an unwanted package. It shifted as others climbed in, and a boot pressed into his chest to hold him down on the bottom.

He wanted Remus. Every part of his body ached as he forced away the wish.

He couldn't see as they left the shore with every splash of the oars bringing them closer to the ship. He caught shouts, and the others mumbled. They were surely close enough when he heard clanking. Maybe the other boat was going up first. After a few minutes, they moved again, and Mal said to make sure the other side was snug.

Water sloshed as the rowboat was hauled up by ropes tied to either side.

The blindfold loosened and slipped off when he was dumped on the deck. He managed to hold back a shout as more blood leaked from his shoulder. Nobody said anything as he forced himself to sit up. What was he going to do? Jump overboard and kick his way back to shore?

Corentin rubbed his lower back even though he surely hadn't been rowing. Perhaps age wasn't being quite so kind. Sébastien eyed the others on the ship.

Seven men were quite big and bore similar features, and that was including the Knight who'd come. Sébastien had been right in assuming he was one of the remaining brothers. How loyal of them to fight for Soleil whether it was against another country or a pesky relative the Regent no longer wanted. They were no better than mercenaries and had tossed their honor down the privy a long time ago.

A few of the people appeared like typical, rough sailors, and a few were gazing at Sébastien like he was a cow for sale. It was hard to tell who'd been hired only to work the ship, and who might have been hired as a part of the group and had simply been given a task. One said Sébastien didn't look like much.

"Put him in my cabin." Corentin waved a hand without looking at his nephew, soaked and bedraggled on the deck. "Heal his shoulder."

The Knight and Crossbow half-dragged him into the Captain's cabin. Sébastien almost threw up at the thought that perhaps Corentin would use him again even though he was too old. Just to grind the filth a little deeper.

He was tied to a chair. It'd be rather difficult to fuck him like that. The Knight healed his shoulder before they left him. It didn't cure the blood loss, so he was still weak as he listened for footsteps and pulled on the ropes keeping him in the chair. The ones on his wrists chafed the skin, and no matter how hard he pulled, twisted, or tried to reach the knots…He made a frustrated noise before something on the wall by the door caught his eye.

The pentacle. The damn, wretched, fucking pentacle that Uncle had hung on the wall in his quarters in both Palaces. Was he hoping for Satan to finally come and do his bidding? The fucking trinket hadn't done anything before despite once hanging on the head of Prince Angelo's tomb.

Satan must not have told Corentin much.

Whatever Satan did with himself while latched onto Sébastien, he wasn't doing anything important. Where was the great power he'd mentioned having? Sébastien could kill the Regent, sink the whole boat, and have a form of peace before he went. Satan could go back to his wretched home and be done with the vile realm as he called it.

The saltwater.

That's why Sébastien had heard the growl when he touched the salt cellar. He'd never heard it before or noticed anything if he sprinkled salt on his meal. That time, he'd definitely heard the growl, pretended nothing happened, and continued speaking with Lord Rochefort. Remus and the lord hadn't heard anything.

Eating a little on his food hadn't done anything. Nor touching it. Still, Satan must not have liked it since he'd made the warning noise. Perhaps he'd been waiting to see where Sébastien would be taken and what would happen. Now that they were in the water-

The door opened, and Corentin entered. He went straight to the basin to wash his hands, splash his face, and dampen a cloth. After removing his shirt, he gave himself a basic cleaning like he didn't have a family member tied to a chair in the cabin. It was roomier than the one he'd shared with Remus, although too small for him to be comfortable near the Regent.

Then again, no cabin or room was large enough.

"If I were you, I wouldn't try anything like escaping. I think you can tell it'd be a foolish endeavor and a waste of energy." Corentin tossed the cloth in the water once he'd finished and reached for a cloth hanging on a hook.

Sébastien stared at the door to avoid looking at him. "Of course, Uncle."

"Well, you have a habit of doing what you want and only thinking of yourself. I figured I should warn you."

Corentin went to the trunk at the foot of the narrow bed to put on a shirt. A vest came next. Whereas Sébastien wore layers to protect himself, Uncle did it to hide his foulness. Rot wrapped in silk and fine linen.

"You still have an attitude. Not that it's surprising after so many years. Your Father wasn't pleased with your attitude overall, and you've grown much worse. If he came back and saw you now…"

He'd hugged Sébastien and left for Calmerra after saying they'd have peace when he returned. He had returned. In a box.

"Your Mother would also be very disappointed if she saw what you turned into. Lazy-"

"No, she'd be horrified her brother-in-law likes little boys. You raped me over and over again and made me do disgusting things."

The silence in the room was almost deafening. Sébastien had never come right out and said the words to Uncle's face. He almost expected Corentin to threaten or hit him for the direct accusation.

"I'd say that's far worse than me not listening to you. Why should I listen to you? You couldn't even wait until she was buried before taking advantage of me."

Corentin sat on the edge of his bed and rested his arm on the footboard. "You want to talk about taking advantage? Who was getting into my lap at the age of twelve? Thirteen? You were still doing it at fourteen before they died. Most boys stop far earlier."

A pinch of shame was already growing in Sébastien's stomach.

"You were especially keen to be on mine-"

Because Father had said he was too old even though Sébastien still wanted hugs and cuddles.

"You made it impossible to not touch you."

The shame twisted. "Nobody else fondled me."

"You weren't wiggling your arse in their lap." Corentin rubbed his unshaven chin.

"I never did that." He knew he hadn't, but the way Uncle accused him made him doubt himself and struggle to think if he had wiggled around in a suggestive manner.

"Hmm. I remember it quite clearly. I don't seem to remember you complaining about me touching you, and you kept coming back."

It had always happened in private, and while the little touches on his rear and thighs had seemed odd at times, Sébastien hadn't seen it as anything sexual or even thought to tell Mother. The idea of Uncle harming him had never occurred.

"You wanted me the night you were left alone. What do you expect a man to do when you're in his lap, against him, and constantly parading yourself around?"

Sébastien walked like any typical man. He'd never paraded himself around. On that particular night, he'd sat next to Uncle and leaned against him as he drank. The words still needled him with more embarrassment as doubt whispered that he'd done all those things and brought the abuse down on himself.

"Men have needs, and I'm no different. You took advantage of mine. Try it with another man. Get in his lap, wiggle your arse, and see if he's not interested. Get drunk and rub against him."

"I didn't ru-"

"Even if he's not at first, the interest will come purely from the stimulation and the proximity. You directly came onto me quite a few times later."

The words hovered on Sébastien's tongue: because his only source of affection had started shrinking several months past his fifteenth birthday. Doing what Uncle wanted brought shame and pain along with approval and more attention. He'd desperately needed the last two.

Remus would tell him it was all lies and Uncle was still trying to manipulate him so he could turn the blame onto his nephew and absolve himself.

"I was a child," Sébastien managed to get out. "It's against the law for an adult to fuck a child. The age of consent is eighteen everywhere."

"I'm very well aware of the law," said Corentin. "You know, it's more of a guideline for the realm in general because there has to be a cutoff. Do you think no one can consent the night before their eighteenth birthday? That's silly. They're not suddenly more mature the next morning. Some people mature faster and are quite precocious even at fourteen or before. You wanted it, so don't sit there, lie to my face, and yak about the age of consent."

Sébastien wanted to throw up. No matter what he said, it would be tossed back at him. Even if he mentioned how he'd cried and begged Uncle to not hurt him more than once, Uncle would say he'd been a tease. He searched Corentin's face, hoping for one little shred of remorse. Not that he'd forgive the Regent for what he did, but there had to be something. One speck of regret-anything to show that Sébastien had once truly mattered even if it was only a tiny bit.

"If you try telling the rest that I ‘raped' you, they won't believe your lies. You'll sound like someone who lost and seeks to hurt the other by accusing them of the worst thing that popped into their mind. Which is exactly what you're doing right now.

He'd never mattered. Even when Uncle had bought him a toy soldier at the age of seven, and he'd sat in Uncle's lap while examining the articulated limbs and the little sword he'd come with. Corentin had kissed his head and called him his favorite little nephew. Who knew what he'd thought?

No matter what Sébastien said, it'd be twisted back onto him. He couldn't win. Unless Nulio came forward later and told everyone the truth. It'd be too late by then.

"They won't believe anything you say," said Corentin. "Neither will Soleil, and you'll die a traitor."

"You betrayed my Father. I found the note-the wine bottles. Remus has the letters from Quintus. He will tell everyone-"

Corentin sighed. "What note? You mean the one Remus forged to make his treasonous lover look good?"

"You can't lie forever."

"What are you going to do when you're dead?"

"Did even your brother mean nothing?!"

"I have wants, dear nephew. It's better if I remain on the throne instead of allowing my sour, angry, lazy nephew to sit upon it. You bleat about your position, but I recall someone who wouldn't even attend petitions and remove the task from my plate."

Sébastien had only avoided them once he'd realized Uncle had it in for his life. Corentin had already been crafting him as an angry man to others, obviously through no fault of his own, so Sébastien had added a few things of his own. If anyone aided Corentin later, let them be under the impression that he wasn't smart enough to get out of a situation.

Besides, why spend more time than needed with Corentin? Even if Sébastien had done petitions alone, Uncle would have taken each and every decision, no matter how fair, and found a way to criticize it.

He'd done it during the war with Father and Remere not at home, and Sébastien had sat with him while occasionally being allowed to decide on certain issues brought forth. Pick, pick, pick. Nothing was quite right. Corentin had found a way to criticize him in front of the court to make him look stupid.

It'd been better to add laziness to his fake list of faults so he could maneuver as he pleased.

"You do have something to die for," said Corentin.

"Oh, you mean besides false accusations of treason?" asked Sébastien.

Corentin smirked. "Do you think I don't know about the werewolf incident? That one was clever, and I didn't even suspect you right away. You were hoping for me to remain."

If not, at least several rapists and abusers had died. Sébastien shrugged. "Since you're going to put me to death, go ahead and add that on. I'd say it's fair I hang for something. The problem is, that wasn't really a crime. You have a court full of slave owners who abuse and rape others daily. And don't give me any bullshit about the law either. Enslaving criminals is a disgusting practice, and every single lord, lady, or relative who died that night deserved to be executed. They had been committing crimes against Elira."

"I think my brother was fair with that law. He's not the first. Other countries have done it-"

"Other countries have also abolished it when someone with enough brains took the throne. Other people have also murdered, robbed, and raped. That doesn't make someone's crime right. Being beaten or raped for stealing a bit of food or a few coins is beyond fucked up. It also doesn't make your crime right."

How Corentin could sit there and claim to be in the right with every wrong thing was almost amazing. It was real. He was truly able to sit there and defend his actions. He didn't even lose sleep over it. There had been times when he'd rolled over, told his nephew to get out, and started snoring before Sébastien finished getting his clothes back on. Corentin was worse than an animal.

"No wonder Streak tried to kill you," said Sébastien. "I wish he'd stomped your head flat into the ground and gored the rest of your body until you were unrecognizable. He sensed the foulness about you."

"A unicorn might make a pretty pet or mount, but it's still an animal," Corentin said coolly. "He was unsafe, he knew nothing because he was an animal, and I told your Father to not allow you a unicorn."

"But you could insist to the son of our once-enemy that he should get in my bed and fuck me. You were hoping Remus would kill me. You would have been gleeful if a servant had come in to find me dead. What would you have spread around the court in that case? Hm? That I'd been found naked because I'd been fucking the son of Giorgio? The barbarian's cum had still been leaking out of me? Ooh, maybe I'd been found in such a way or with something that suggested I had abnormal, disgusting proclivities that even the dirtiest whore would hesitate to do? There's a good one. You would have had a grand time even if he'd simply stabbed me in the back one night after we left. I know why you worked with Quintus and had him send his twin instead of murdering him that night. Every single thing you do is to bring you closer to the throne, preferably while hurting me."

"You think so highly of yourself."

"Says the man who hasn't even married because he knows he can't have a little boy as a husband. Remus will kill you."

"We'll fight back." Corentin shifted his legs. "You'll be dead before Rowland even gets close."

Sébastien knew that. Corentin wasn't going to let him sit and rot in a cell while a war took place right there on the coast, just in case Remus won. He wanted Rowland to be too late.

The one, good man he'd let in couldn't protect him. Dear Elira, it hurt. He'd told himself it would have to end and resigned himself to death, but he'd planned for them to have a few more days. Just a little more time. He wasn't supposed to have been snatched like this. Remus had been so gentle with him last night, and it was all gone already.

His throat ached while Corentin watched him. Like fuck he'd cry. He'd come close before, but it wasn't happening. He wouldn't let himself cry ever again.

"Why were you in the tunnel?" asked Sébastien. The information wouldn't help him, but why not know? "Were you visiting Quintus in secret? Did you scurry off like a rat to wait and see when you knew trouble had arrived?"

Corentin pursed his lips. "Quintus dug it in case he needed to flee or for me to visit in secret if I felt the need. I decided to go there because if Remus didn't stab you in the back, you'd both end up there to take Rowland and get his army. Someone scouted out the city and said it was full of werewolves. We waited. You walked into a trap yourself."

Since Remus had taken things back, they'd used the tunnel to wait. A couple of the Regent's people snuck in during the night and scouted the Palace. They'd intended to find his rooms to snatch him, and Remus had unknowingly made it stupidly easy for them.

"I'm done with this useless talk-" started Corentin.

"I'm not. What did you use to drug the Kings? Did you have a hand in the werewolves too? Did you somehow orchestrate that?"

"I don't have a name for the poison, and I never saw the actual provider."

"Hm. How convenient." It was unfortunate that it was likely true. One selling a product so dangerous likely wouldn't go meet the buyer in person.

"You were around those mutts and Remus. I want to know what they said about the attack on Margot and Enzo. I had no way of knowing they were coming or what they'd do. That was all werewolves."

"Nobody knows what happened," said Sébastien. "If one did, I doubt he'd tell me."

"Or you're lying. I can see a few werewolves taking something to feel invincible while getting revenge for those in the north."

"I'm not lying, but you're welcome to think as you please. You will anyway. What about the cuffs? Did you know what was going on there?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course. You forgot about Satan. Most would forget."

"I'm not going to sit here and listen to you babble nonsense."

"I had to fucking look at your damn pentacle all of the time years ago. You even brought it with you."

"It's priceless."

"Don't give me that bullshit."

"Perhaps the loss of blood has affected you along with your sleepless night of being a whore. I hope what little honor you had left was worth it. What could I expect from a boy who came onto his Uncle?"

Sébastien almost wanted to laugh even though it wasn't funny. Perhaps he was losing it. If Corentin wanted to pretend he knew nothing about the cuffs. Fine. So be it. It would hardly be Sébastien's problem after a while.

Corentin walked to the door and opened it to look out. "Take him away."