22. Verena

CHAPTER 22

VERENA

T he excruciating pain in my muscles was almost unbearable as we finally arrived back at the palace. Days had passed since we left Dacre behind on that cursed ship, and my mind was consumed with worry over his safety.

Fear and guilt gnawed at me with every passing moment, creating a churning turmoil in the pit of my stomach.

Dacre would never forgive me for what I had done.

My wrists were tightly bound behind my back as rough hands pushed me up the grand marble stairs of the palace. The rope had chafed my skin raw and every step felt like a knife digging deeper into my wounds.

My heart raced, threatening to burst from my chest. I was back in the capital city, gazing up at the towering palace that had once been my home.

But now, a wave of fear consumed me like a ravenous beast. It clawed at my throat, constricting my breath. The air was thick with foreboding, making it hard to take even a single step forward.

This was once my home, but it was no longer. The opulent castle that once filled me with pride now loomed menacingly over me, casting dark shadows that seemed to whisper of danger.

As I was dragged through the halls, the memories of all that had taken place within these walls flooded back, each one more painful and terrifying than the last. I had been a prisoner here once before, the heir locked away for no one to see, and it felt as though I was suffocating as I was dragged back to that place.

I was led through the ornate halls, passing by statues of former kings and portraits of my family. There was one of my parents and I from when I was younger.

I had been foolish then, and I couldn't stand to look up at it and the way it mocked me now.

My mind spun with a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, all centered around Dacre. My heart raced with a million fears, each one threatening to overwhelm me.

But I forced myself to push them down, to bury them deep within as I focused on the one thing that mattered: he was alive.

Dacre was my mate. I knew it the moment he said the words to me in that room.

I had told him a story, spoken a vow that my mother once told me, and the moment I did, I could feel the very fiber of my being change as if fusing me to him.

He had given everything up for me, was willing to leave this world behind for me, and now he was gone.

He was gone, I was back at the palace, and I could no longer feel him.

He had slipped away like sand through my fingers, and a dull ache settled in my chest as if he had been severed from me.

Both him and my magic.

It abandoned me the moment he sailed away, after I took that decision from him.

Or perhaps it had been drained from me when I commanded the sea to do my bidding, using every last drop of power within me until there was nothing left but ashes and embers.

But the guards had seen it, they had felt the storm I brought down upon them, and it was as if the ocean itself had stolen the air from my lungs, leaving me gasping and desperate for breath as I faced the terrifying possibility that I would never see him again.

He was hurt when that ship pulled away from the dock, defenseless against those I'd harmed, and I wished I could go back.

I should have listened to Dacre when he told me to stay behind. If the captain had never met me, never seen me, he wouldn't have had the chance to turn me into my father's men.

I longed for the safety of that room. It had been only him and me, Dacre and Verena, and I yearned for a world where that could have been our truth.

Longed to leave everyone and everything but him behind.

I closed my eyes and dreamed of his face. I yearned for the way he looked when he had called me his.

I was Princess Verena, heir to the Marmoris Kingdom, but more than anything, I was his .

My arms were twisted painfully behind my back as I was dragged into the king's throne room. The scent of incense and perfumed oils made me queasy as memory after memory flooded my mind.

"Your Majesty," one of the guards spoke, his voice trembling with reverence. Every guard in the room fell to their knees before him, forcing me down with them until my knees hit the hard marble floor.

I winced in pain as my bindings dug further into my wrists, but I stayed silent, though my mind raced with fear.

"Bring her forward." My father's command was calm yet laced with a sharpness that made fear grip me tighter as I was ushered to my feet.

Bile rose up my throat as I met the cold, calculating gaze of my father.

He sat on his throne, a regal and imposing figure, with his jaw clenched and his hands tightly gripping the arms of the chair. He looked at me, his eyes unmoving and unforgiving, and my stomach twisted with dread.

"Verena," he said, his voice cold and distant. "You have caused quite a fuss."

"I'm sorry." The lie I had told hundreds of times before slipped from my lips automatically, a learned response to avoid his wrath.

He looked at me for a long moment before standing up. "I am disappointed in you, Verena," he said, his voice echoing in the vast room. "Your kingdom is disappointed in you."

He motioned for the guards to bring me to him, and I was pushed forward until I stood just a few inches away from the man I feared most.

"Where have you been, daughter?" His eyes searched mine for any sign of deceit, any hint of rebellion that I may have been harboring.

I shook my head, my heart beating wildly within my chest. "Trying to get home." My voice trembled as I spoke.

Please believe me.

His hand shot out, slapping me hard across the face, and I immediately tasted the copper tinge of blood as my lip split.

"You have embarrassed this family." He continued, his voice low and dangerous as he leaned in close to me. "You have betrayed me, your family, your kingdom. I will not tolerate this insubordination from you."

Tears burned my eyes. "I'm sorry, Father," I said, my voice shaking.

"What would your mother think?"

I hated that he used her against me, digging his claws into the place he knew would hurt me the most.

"Unbind her wrists then leave us." His words hung in the air like a dark cloud, his face twisted into a mask of anger.

The guards unbound my wrists, and I rubbed at the raw skin and dried blood. I faced my father, my eyes filled with fear and desperation.

"Please, Father."

He paid me no attention. "Send in Baelyn."

I whimpered as I heard the name of his healer, the healer who had healed so many of my injuries in my life, injuries that were caused by the hands of my father.

The guards began leaving the room, and tears burned at the corners of my eyes.

"Verena, I don't know what has come over you, but you must understand that your actions have consequences." His voice was firm as if speaking to an errant child. "I will not tolerate any more disobedience from you."

"Father—" I started but was cut off when the back of his rough, calloused hand collided with my face.

The pain was sharp and immediate, and I could feel the warmth of my blood trickling down my chin. "Verena," he said coolly, "learn your place."

As I stood there, my vision blurred by tears and pain, I knew that everything that had happened was leading to this moment.

Baelyn was led in, his eyes filled with concern as he looked at the state I was in. He approached me slowly, his hands reaching out to touch my face, but my father stopped him.

"You are not here to heal her. Not yet."

One of the guards who I hadn't noticed, pulled a wooden chair behind me, and my father instructed me to sit.

I did as he demanded and tried to steel myself for what was coming.

"They say the power came from her, Your Majesty. Not the rebel."

Terror snaked through me, cutting off my air with his words.

"The princess doesn't possess magic." My father's voice was low and dangerous.

The guard nodded, and I could see the fear in his eyes as he spoke. "I know, Your Majesty, but the guards who brought her in." He looked behind him as if he were unsure of whether he should say the next words. "They claim that she bent the sea to her will as if she were a sorceress."

My father turned to me, his gaze roaming over me as if looking for the magic they spoke of.

"What do they speak of, Verena?"

"I don't know." My fingers trembled as I balled them into fists.

He wouldn't stop until he got what he wanted from me. I knew that all too well.

My father's rough hand closed around my wrist, his thumb pressing deeply into the open wound where the rope had cut into my skin.

The searing pain spread through my body like wildfire, causing me to cry out in agony. My entire body trembled and shook as hot tears streamed down my face, my breaths coming in ragged gasps.

"Verena." My father spoke, softer this time, but no less menacing. "There are reports that you were inside the hidden kingdom. My men tell me they found you with one of those pieces of rebellion trash."

Terrified and desperate, I squeezed my eyes shut and took a deep breath.

"Were you in the hidden kingdom?"

My mind raced as he pressed down harder on my wrist, causing me to wince in pain.

The mere thought of Dacre's father filled me with a burning rage, almost as intense as the hatred I harbored for my own.

But even with all the pain his father had caused, I refused to betray the rebellion. No matter what torture he inflicted upon me, I would not turn on Dacre.

I would not give him Wren.

My father's impatience boiled over as I remained silent, and in a sudden motion, he raised his hand to strike me once more. His large, rough palm lingered in the air as I tensed my muscles, anticipating the imminent pain.

A sharp blow connected with my jaw, the impact so forceful that my teeth slammed together, the pressure threatening to crack them.

"Sir, if she's been there, then that means she knows the location of the hidden city," Baelyn spoke, his voice calm as if he were completely unaffected by the violence before him. "She knows the hub for the rebellion."

My father's clean-shaven jaw tightened before he looked me over. "You're right."

He reached out, and I flinched away from his touch. But he didn't stop; instead, he pressed his palm against my temple before gently brushing hair out of my face and running his fingers through my hair. "How useful you've become, Verena."

Useful.

The word reverberated in my mind, its weight heavy and suffocating. I had been reduced to nothing more than a mere tool, a means to an end for him to use in his ruthless pursuit of destroying those who dared to stand against him.

And now he was once again manipulating me, using me as leverage to try and extract information about their whereabouts.

"I don't know where it's at." The lie was so clear from my lips, so easy.

A tremor ran through my body as his fingers curled tightly in the back of my hair. His touch was rough and unforgiving, pressing against my scalp with a force that left no room for escape. My head tilted back, forced to look up at his towering figure.

"Verena, my dear," he began, his voice laced with disgust. "You are the heir to this kingdom, and although you may have been powerless most of your life, you are not stupid."

The weight of his words bore down on me like a physical force, making my lip tremble in fear.

I knew he could see right through me, as he always had. His keen eyes were like daggers, piercing through any facade I tried to put up. And when he struck me this time, I barely flinched.

Blood dripped down my chin as he tightened his hold on my hair, forcing me to meet his gaze again.

He moved closer to me, his face mere inches from mine. I could feel the heat of his breath against my skin as he spoke with a venomous tone. "Do not lie to me," he seethed. "I am your king."

My king, not my father.

He was a king who demanded loyalty, never a father who wanted love. He didn't need my love; he had never needed it.

"I do not enjoy hurting you, Verena." His voice was low and laced with a hint of regret I knew he didn't really feel. "Don't make me hurt you more."

His fingers trailed down my cheek, leaving a trail of warmth before catching the blood that fell from my lip.

This was the moment I usually broke, the moment I longed for him not to hate me. These were the moments that I longed for my mother, that I damned the gods for taking her from me.

They took her from me, and they left me with this monster.

"I don't know how to get there," I repeated the lie, feeling it turn to ash on my tongue.

"And this power my men tell me about." He leaned closer to me until his eyes were looking directly into mine.

"I am powerless."

His grip on my cheek tightened, the pressure threatening to snap my jaw. He turned his gaze away from me and addressed the healer beside us. "Baelyn," he said. "Get prepared. The heir will need healing by the time we're through here."