10. Seven

I lay there in the tangled furs, the weight of Ruith's arm heavy and warm atop me, his breath evening out into the steady rhythm of sleep. The scent of our coupling hung thick in the air, musk and spice and us, a new scent that felt right and utterly wrong at the same time.

How many nights had we spent on our long march sleeping next to each other? It should have been familiar by now. But this was different. This was a featherbed in a grand castle, a fire crackling in the hearth, the distant strains of music and laughter filtering up from the wedding celebrations below.

Ruith's wedding.

The thought twisted like a knife in my gut. I never should have let it go this far. Hadn't I just finished telling him I wouldn't be his whore, his secret, and yet here we were. Somehow, he'd convinced me again.

What did Taelyn think of all this? She was his wife, yet she had kissed my cheek when I arrived through the passage, almost as if she were giving her blessing. Surely she knew what Ruith had summoned me for.

But if Ruith's new queen breathed even a word of this, it would shatter the alliance Ruith had worked so hard to build with the Wolfhearts. He'd said he couldn't win without that alliance, and if Ruith didn't win, I would never get to go home.

I turned my head to the side to look at him sprawled out on the bed next to me, eyes closed in sleep. It was a familiar sight, though I wasn't sure I'd ever seen him look so sated and proud.

I watched Ruith for a heartbeat longer, unable to tear my gaze away. His dark hair was mussed, strands clinging damply to his brow. Those sharp, elegant features I'd once found so infuriating were softened in sleep, his lips slightly parted, lashes fluttering against his cheeks. He looked younger like this. Peaceful.

But peace was an illusion, especially between us. With a sigh, I eased myself out from under Ruith's arm, moving slowly so as not to wake him. My body protested the movement, muscles aching in places I hadn't known existed.

As I rose, I felt the evidence of Ruith's release seeping out of me, trickling down the inside of my thigh in a warm rivulet. There was so much of it, far more than should have been possible. That damned elixir he'd bragged about downing before summoning me here. A flush of humiliation heated my cheeks at the thought of how eagerly I'd taken all he had to give.

I cast about for my clothes, only to find them in utter ruins, torn to shreds by Ruith's impatient hands. The fine silks hung off me in tattered ribbons, doing little to preserve my modesty. But there was nothing for it. I couldn't very well traipse back to my own chambers naked as the day I was born.

Ruith didn't stir as I gathered up the scraps of fabric, his breathing deep and even in the aftermath of our exertions. I envied him that peace, that ability to sink into sated slumber without the weight of consequence bearing down upon him.

I padded to the hidden passageway on silent feet, wincing at the pull of well-used muscles.

The hidden passageway was completely dark as I slipped inside, the stone door sliding shut behind me with a soft scrape. I paused, letting my eyes adjust to the gloom, one hand braced against the rough-hewn wall. Tiny shafts of dim light came through the stones, the only light I had.

I walked down the narrow corridor, one hand resting on the wall. My bare feet were silent against the worn flagstones, the tattered remains of my clothing whispering with each step. I felt exposed, vulnerable, but there was a strange thrill to it as well, sneaking through the castle's hidden ways like a shadow.

At last, I reached the end of the passageway and slipped through the stone door. The hallway beyond was empty, and I hurried down it to my chambers. The door swung inward on silent hinges, and I stepped through.

But I was not alone.

I froze, my heart leaping into my throat as I took in the gaunt, weathered form of Senna standing in the center of my chambers. The overseer's deep-set eyes narrowed, his thin lips curling into a sneer as he took in my disheveled state—the tattered remains of my clothing, the sheen of sweat on my skin, the unmistakable scent of sex clinging to me like a damning perfume.

"Well, well," Senna drawled, his voice as dry and brittle as old parchment. "What have we here? The little prince, sneaking back to his chambers in the dead of night, reeking of someone else's bed."

A flush of humiliation crept up my neck, but I forced myself to meet Senna's gaze, lifting my chin in defiance. "What I do and who I do it with is none of your concern," I said coldly, though my voice wavered slightly.

Senna let out a harsh bark of laughter. "Oh, but I think it is my concern, boy. Especially when it's the king's wedding night, and he's supposed to be in bed with his bride, not off rutting with the likes of you."

A cold dread settled in the pit of my stomach. He knew. Of course he knew. Senna had a way of ferreting out secrets, of using them to his advantage.

I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly dry as the Savarran desert. "I don't know what you're talking about," I said, but the lie sounded hollow even to my own ears.

Senna's lips twisted in a mocking smile. "Don't play the fool with me, boy. It doesn't suit you." He took a step closer, his eyes glittering with a cruel sort of amusement. "You think it's only the highborn who have spies scurrying about this castle like rats in the walls? I have eyes and ears everywhere. I know exactly where you've been and who you've been with."

My heart hammered against my ribs, a sickening tempo of fear and dread. "You're mistaken," I tried again, desperation lending an edge to my voice. "I was just out for a walk. To clear my head."

"A walk?" Senna scoffed, his gaze raking over my ruined clothing, the telltale stains on my skin. "And I suppose you just happened to misplace your clothes along the way? No, don't bother denying it. I'm not blind, boy. I can see the truth written all over you."

Shame burned through me, hot and cloying. I wanted to shrink away from that knowing gaze, to disappear into the shadows and never emerge. But I forced myself to stand my ground, to meet Senna's eyes with a defiance I didn't feel.

My mind raced as I stared Senna down, trying to find a way out of this trap. If word got back to Klaus Wolfheart, the carefully forged alliance would shatter like a crystal goblet dashed upon stone. Ruith needed the Wolfhearts and their fierce warriors to win this war. Without them, all would be lost—for Ruith, and for me. My dreams of vengeance against Mikhail would crumble to dust.

I had to salvage this somehow. Senna was a cold, calculating man, but surely even he had a price. Everyone did. It was just a matter of finding it.

I drew in a breath, squaring my shoulders beneath the tattered ruins of my clothing. "What is it you want, Senna? Gold? Favors? Name your price and let's be done with this unpleasantness."

Senna's weathered face creased in a mirthless smile. "You think you can buy my silence like some common whore?" he scoffed, taking another step closer. The sour stench of his breath wafted over me, making my stomach clench. "I am not so easily swayed by the promise of coin or favors, boy. My loyalty is to something far greater than that."

Dread coiled like a serpent in my gut as I stared at Senna, trying to read the intent behind those flinty eyes. What could he possibly want, if not gold or favors? The overseer had always been a hard man, but there was a cruel calculation to him now that sent a chill skittering down my spine.

"Then what is it you want?" I asked, hating the way my voice wavered. I was a prince, damn it all, not some simpering child to be cowed by the likes of Senna. But standing there in my ruined finery with the evidence of my shame written across my skin, I felt as powerless as the day the collar had first snapped closed around my throat.

Senna's thin lips twisted in a mockery of a smile. "I have what I want, little princeling. Do you feel that? The quickening of your heart? The sweat on your palms? The walls closing in? You may have your title back, and your fancy quarters, and your own bed. Everyone might bow and kowtow to you now, but now, with a word to the right ear, I could destroy you. Knowing that gives me more joy than beating a thousand unruly slaves."

Fury flared in my chest, white-hot and blinding. The sheer audacity of him, to think he could threaten me. My hands curled into fists at my sides, nails biting into my palms hard enough to draw blood.

"I could have your head," I spat, the words dripping with venom.

Senna's eyes flashed with a cruel amusement, unfazed by my threat. "You could," he agreed. "But you have no guarantee that once I leave this room, I won't tell the very next person I see. The only way for you to protect your secret is to cut me down with your own hands, here and now. So, do it, boy. Kill me."

My pulse pounded in my ears as I glared at Senna, my body trembling with barely contained rage. I wanted nothing more than to wrap my hands around his scrawny neck and squeeze the life from him, to watch the light fade from those cruel, mocking eyes.

But before I could act on that violent impulse, a flicker of movement from the other side of the room caught my eye. I turned my head and froze.

There, huddled in the shadowed corner of the room, were Leif and Torsten. Their eyes were wide and frightened in their too-thin faces, their small bodies trembling as they clung to each other.

In an instant, the fury drained out of me, replaced by a sickening sense of shame. What was I thinking, contemplating murder in front of these innocent children? They had already seen far too much violence and cruelty in their short lives. I couldn't add to that trauma, couldn't let them witness me taking a life, no matter how much the bastard deserved it.

I forced myself to take a deep, shuddering breath, unclenching my fists with a conscious effort. Senna was watching me, a knowing smirk playing about his thin lips, as if he could read the very thoughts whirling through my head.

"Get out," I said, my voice low and rough. "And don't ever come back into my chambers. I dismiss you from my service, Senna. Permanently."

Senna's eyes narrowed, a flicker of surprise quickly masked by disdain. "You don't have the authority to dismiss me, boy. I serve the crown, not some upstart princeling who bends over for—"

"Get. Out." My hands trembled, fingernails cutting bloody crescents into my palms as I fought the urge to lunge at him, to tear that mocking sneer from his face with my bare hands.

For a long, tense moment, Senna stared me down, a battle of wills playing out in the charged space between us. Then, with a final scoff and a shake of his head, he turned on his heel and stalked from the room, the door slamming shut behind him with a resounding bang.

In the sudden silence that followed, I sagged against the wall, my legs threatening to give out beneath me. My heart was pounding, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps as the enormity of what I had just done hit me.

I had dismissed Senna. Senna, who had tormented and terrorized me for weeks, who held the power to destroy everything I had worked for with a few well-placed words. It was a reckless, foolish thing to do, born of anger and desperation and a bone-deep need to protect the trembling children huddled in the corner.

I pushed away from the wall, my legs still unsteady as I crossed the room to where Leif and Torsten huddled. They flinched as I approached, their eyes wide and wary, and a fresh wave of shame washed over me.

I knelt before them, ignoring the protest of abused muscles. "It's all right," I said softly, holding out a hand. "Senna is gone. He won't hurt you anymore."

Leif's lower lip trembled, tears welling in his blue eyes. "Is it true?" he whispered. "What he said about you and the king?"

I hesitated, the lie poised on the tip of my tongue. But I couldn't bring myself to utter it, not to these children who had already been deceived and betrayed by so many. They deserved the truth, even if it was an ugly one.

"Yes," I said, the admission like ashes in my mouth. "It's true. But it's complicated, Leif. Ruith and I... we have a history. A connection that goes beyond what is proper or right."

Torsten's brow furrowed, confusion and something like anger darkening his expression. He opened his mouth to speak, but I was too weary for questions.

"I know you have questions," I said. "But this has been a long and exhausting day for us all. It's important that you not tell anyone what you heard here tonight. If you do, people could get hurt."

Their eyes widened, and I realized my mistake.

I sighed. "Not you. Never you boys. I'll protect you with my life. You are safe. I promise no harm will come to you while you are in my care. I meant only in the wider world. Our alliance, and winning this war, hinges on your silence. You can't tell anyone what you heard here tonight. Do you understand?"

The boys nodded slowly.

"Good. Now, off the floor with you."

Torsten frowned. "But Senna said—"

"Senna is gone," I said more sharply than I meant to. "He no longer makes the rules. I do, and I want you to sleep off the floor. When we get to Calibarra, you will have proper beds, but for now, the sofas will have to do."

I ushered the boys over to the sofas, plucking a couple of soft woolen blankets from a nearby chest. Leif and Torsten clambered up onto the cushions, their small bodies sinking into the plush velvet. I draped the blankets over them, tucking the edges in snugly around their thin shoulders.

Leif's eyelids were already drooping, exhaustion winning out over the lingering fear. But Torsten stared up at me, his dark eyes troubled and far too old for his young face.

"Prince Elindir?" he whispered, his voice small in the hush of the room. "Are you going to be in trouble? Because of what Senna saw?"

A lump rose in my throat and I had to swallow hard before I could speak. "No, Torsten. I'm not going to be in trouble. Ruith won't let anything happen to me. To any of us."

It was a lie, or at the very least, a hope spoken as fact. The truth was, I had no idea what would happen now. If Senna made good on his threat and word got back to Klaus Wolfheart, the alliance could crumble. And with it, any hope I had of winning my vengeance against Mikhail and reclaiming my rightful place in Ostovan.

But I couldn't burden Torsten with those fears. He had endured enough in his short life without taking on my burdens, too.

I tucked the blanket more securely around Torsten's thin shoulders, offering him a reassuring smile that felt brittle on my lips. "Sleep now. Everything will look brighter in the morning."

Torsten's dark eyes studied me for a long moment, as if trying to discern the truth behind my words. But exhaustion won out and his eyelids fluttered closed, his breathing evening out into the slow, steady rhythm of sleep.