47. Paris

The one relief of dinner was that Tybalt hadn't been in attendance.

I... wasn't sure how I was going to deal with him, whenever the time came. I'd promised him much, and he'd accepted those promises with smiles and sweet words that I now realized had been completely devoid of any real promises returned.

Still, I'd need to talk to him at some point, if only for the sake of my conscience.

And perhaps to break his nose for presuming upon my sister in my absence. Even if it was his father's design, the audacity was galling.

I didn't know why I expected him to navigate court matters better on my sister's behalf than on mine, but I fucking did.

I'd been relieved to have an extra day or two to figure out how to approach him—right up until I stumbled in on him in my—in Brett's—in my own bedroom.

It wasn't like our family had an enormous suite, and it hadn't been a question that I would sleep with him—that I'd even feel better for having him close. But there, then, watching Tybalt with his hands on Brett, sparks of red flooded my field of vision.

"Get the fuck off of him," I snapped, marching into the room in time for Tybalt to pull back, his hands up and palms out. Was I supposed to believe he meant no harm?

And all the while, the smile stayed on his lips. "Dear me, did you come back to me with claws?"

I flinched, coming up short. What was that supposed to mean? I didn't think of myself as particularly clawless before, but I'd also never thought about needing to defend myself in my own home.

Now, guilt and fear swirled in my belly, turning into an icy block that reaffirmed that yes, that was exactly what I ought to do.

"Paris," Brett started, "I swear, I?—"

I shook my head, still glaring, still furious, but I knew this wasn't Brett. In fact, I couldn't imagine anything less likely than Brett, who'd been so steadfast and patient, who hadn't made a move on me until he'd developed actual feelings, inviting Tybalt to kiss him.

I wasn't mad at him, I was just?—

With a huff, I grabbed Brett's arm and pulled him behind me.

A knowing smile crossed Tybalt's face.

"Oh, he's yours." He glanced past me to give Brett another once-over that made my jaw clench so tight that my teeth ached. "Well, darling, I hardly see why you're mad at me. You've had a taste of him first." His teeth pressed into his bottom lip. "All this proves is that we both have exquisite taste. If anything, we've opened up a whole new world of possibilities."

I—I didn't realize what Tybalt was suggesting until his hand dug into my jaw and he dragged me in for a hard, demanding kiss. It was all teeth and sharpness, and I struggled, making a sound that was muffled by his insistent mouth.

Brett surged forward, fist twisting in the fabric of Tybalt's silk coat to shove him back. Still, the prince kept ahold of my face and only staggered back one step. When he looked up at Brett, his eyes flashed with a familiar challenge—something I'd once delighted to have sent my way, like a beacon of want and pleasure and promise.

Only now, with his rictus grin falling across his face, it seemed like a twisted, desperate thing. A sob escaped me at the juxtaposition of what I'd always had, love and passion, and this—this haggard, brittle, cruel thing in front of me.

Tybalt had not seen me as a person, but as a means to an end.

Rather than allow Brett to pull him away, Tybalt pressed his palm against Brett's chest and slid it up, looking up at him through heavy-lidded eyes. "Did you want a turn?"

The way he tipped his chin was a clear invitation, and a moment later, he yelped. How could he be surprised that Brett would turn him down? How could he think that I would indulge this wanton lasciviousness, devoid of all kinder feeling?

Oh gods.

My hand fluttered to my mouth at the same time that Brett twisted Tybalt's arm behind his back. He shoved Tybalt into the wall chest first, pinning him there.

"Keep your fucking hands to yourself," he snarled in Tybalt's ear.

I watched, unclear if fear had Tybalt struggling or if he was arching his back to try and get closer. But it didn't matter; the moment Tybalt let go of my face, my legs gave out beneath me. I scrambled back to the wall as Brett freed one hand to go for the door.

He shoved Tybalt into the hall and growled at him to stay out, but the words washed over me like nothing. I was shaking, my breath coming hard and fast, my jaw bruised from the hard grip of Tybalt's fingers.

Once he'd locked the door, going so far as to shift a chair beneath it, he knelt in front of me.

I'd wiggled back until my shoulders hit the wall, wanting to find some place small and safe and contained. And there, with him sitting in front of me, it was almost enough. He was blocking me from the world beyond, and my awareness narrowed into a swath of golden skin and soft green eyes and hawk feathers.

He took my hand and held it against his chest, breathing slowly, exaggerating each movement for me to try and match.

Only once I'd given a shaky try did he nod and whisper, "There is air in your lungs. There is wind beneath your wings. There is a flock at your back."

I shut my eyes, nodding, trying to follow the sound of his breathing even as he gently repeated the mantra. But as my breath began to slow, sadness overcame my panic. Soon, I was crying, pulling my hand from his to wipe my face, ducking pathetically into my cupped palms.

Brett's fingers combed gently through my hair as quiet sobs racked through me.

I was such an idiot. Was that really the man I thought I'd loved? Had he changed, or had I?

Now, I was falling apart over him, which was the last thing I'd wanted to do in front of Brett, who'd saved me time and again.

I lifted my head and wiped my nose on the inside of my wrist. "I'm sorry."

I was such a fool for ever thinking what was between Tybalt and me was real or true. A bigger fool still, for thinking for even a moment that he could compare to Brett.

Tybalt took without thought, and Brett had given me everything I needed.

"There's nothing to be sorry for," he insisted, holding my gaze, his brow furrowed like he was barely holding back his anger. "Do you want to stay here?"

I bit my lips between my teeth to keep them from trembling. Would leaving mean giving up? I couldn't leave my family behind, but—but Brett hadn't asked me to, so I tried to shove all my other questions aside and just answer the one he'd asked.

I used my tongue to ease my lips from between my hard bite and shook my head. No, I didn't want to be here.

Maybe never again.