Finally he released her, and she immediately became aware of a sharp pain in her neck, forcing her to sit up.
“Ouch,” she gasped, rubbing it, and then his hand was there, the pain fading away.
“You’re good to me,” she said.
He pulled her to him and kissed her forehead, her cheek, the tip of her nose, and each eyelid. Then he hopped down from the table, finding his trousers, and she watched as he pulled them up over his long thighs. He bent to pick up her dress, and she put it back on, before helping him find the buttons from his coat.
“Can I keep one?” she asked, without knowing why she wanted it, and he handed one over without comment.
When they’d tidied up, removing every trace of themselves from the room, they stood in silence, not quite able to meet each other’s eyes. It had never been awkward between them before, but as the euphoria ebbed away, Sorrow realized that once again they’d been unutterably reckless. And once again, minutes after apologizing for her behaviour, she’d used Rasmus to drive out some of her own misery, used his touch to mend her—
She froze, as a terrible, unthinkable thought dawned on her…
How could she be so stupid? His touch removed her pain. Made her feel better… She craved him every time she felt sad, or lost, or scared…
She’d always thought it was just her physical pain he healed – after all, he hadn’t been able to soothe away her grief after her grandmother died. But maybe that was a different kind of ache; maybe that was something nothing but time could heal. Whereas doubt and worry and fear – pain – they were all more tangible. All easier to explain. To heal. And her body knew it. Even as she’d tried to pull away from him, her body craved him, drove her to him whenever she was hurting, however she was hurting.
Like today.
Rasmus frowned. “Are you well?” he asked.
She nodded mutely, but it wasn’t enough to convince him, and he reached for her, stopping dead as she recoiled.
How could she have been so blind?
Never again, she vowed silently. I can’t do this to him again. Or to myself.
“Rasmus…” she began.
“It’s all right.” He spoke quickly. “I know. This was a goodbye, wasn’t it?”
She nodded. “It has to be. This… This is wrong. Not because of laws, but because … I’m using you.” There was a relief in saying it aloud, even as she hated herself for the truth of it. “Every time something goes wrong, it’s you I run to. Not even you, but this… Being with you. I use it to fix me. I didn’t know before now, I swear it. If I’d known I wouldn’t have…”
He was silent for a moment. “I never minded,” he said softly.
The floor beneath her seemed to shift at his words. He’d known. All along, he’d known. And he’d let her do it.
“So, if you did ‘use me’, which isn’t how I’d phrase it, then I consented,” he continued. “In fact more than consented. Encouraged. I was willing to take you on whatever terms I could. It’s not a great look for me, either.”
Sorrow knew what he was trying to say, and do, but it didn’t stop the shame that heated her skin.
“I’m sorry.”
“Please don’t be.” He moved as if to stroke her hair, and then stopped, lowering his hand. “I don’t regret a moment of it.”
“I don’t either. I never will.”
“One day, we’ll be able to be real friends,” he said softly. “Not for a while, I think. But one day.”
“I hope so,” Sorrow whispered.
“I know so. I just need a few centuries to get over you first.” He tried bravely to smile, and Sorrow nodded.
“Will you go back to the ball?” he asked.
“No,” Sorrow said. “Will you?”
“No.” He walked to the door and peered out. “It’s clear, you’re safe to go.”
“Goodbye, Ras.”
“Goodbye, Row,” he said. His mouth curved gently, then he turned away from her.
Sorrow stayed where she was for a long moment, mastering herself, before she stepped into the hallway. The ball sounded as lively as it had when she’d left it, and she saw Luvian talking to Eirlys and the baron as she passed, all of them smiling.
Luvian spotted her and came after her, catching up to her in the main doorway of the keep.
“I thought you’d gone back to our rooms. I sent Irris after you.”
“No. I went to get some air. I’m going back there now.”
“The fireworks are about to start; don’t you want to watch them?”
Sorrow shook her head. “I’d better find Irris.”
“All right.” Luvian nodded, his eyes sad. “I’ll be back soon.”
As the carriage pulled up outside the little palace, there was a whistling sound above her and she looked up, in time to see an explosion of colour across the sky, reds and greens cascading out, then fading. A split second later two more starbursts appeared, accompanied by echoing pops. She paused on the stairs and watched as the sky lit up, over and over, with coloured lights, the scent of smoke on the balmy summer air. For some reason they made her throat tight, her eyes prick with tears. When they finished, the final wisps of smoke drifting across the crescent moon, she turned and continued, feeling strangely bereft.
It was quiet inside the small palace, and she made her way straight to her rooms, only to find them empty. She must have missed Irris. She debated whether to go and find her – she knew she should; she’d hurt enough people for one day, without alienating Irris too. But all she wanted was a bath, and to sleep. Maybe a good night’s rest would wipe away the despair that she couldn’t quite keep down.
She sat on the side of the bath as it filled, the sound similar enough to the pool in the hall to make her flush at the memory of what had just happened. She stood abruptly and began to braid her hair, crossing to the mirror to pin it to her head, before slipping off her dress and pulling on a soft robe.
The main door to their set of rooms opened. “Irris?” she called.
When he didn’t answer, she turned off the taps.
“Irris, is that—”
A giant hooded and masked figure appeared in the doorway.
The Sons of Rhannon.
The Tower
Sorrow backed away.
“Wrong,” the man said, and Sorrow recognized his voice. He was the one who’d attacked her in Prekara. “Your friend is dead.”
“No…” The world seemed to shift on its axis as horror roared through Sorrow. Not Irris…
“Don’t worry, Miss Ventaxis, you’ll see her very soon, I promise.”
He began to move towards her, and Sorrow scanned the room for something, anything she could use as a weapon, all the while her mind chanting no, no, no at the thought of bright, brilliant Irris being dead. He was lying. It had to be a lie. She picked up a bar of soap and threw it at the man, but he dodged it easily, still advancing.
“Dain!” Sorrow screamed, praying the guard down in her library room would hear her. “Dain!”
“No one’s coming.”
She knew how to fight with a small sword, a foil and an épée, had been trained alongside Irris when they were children. She knew how to hit and punch and slap and kick. But when the man moved, vaulting over the bath in a fluid motion and grabbing her, moving far faster than she’d thought someone his size could, she realized none of the things she knew would help her. Not against someone who truly meant to harm her.
It didn’t stop her from trying, though, thrashing in his grip, driving her head back until it connected with his face, causing him to groan and punch the side of her head. She saw stars then, falling limp for a moment, which was all it took for him to sink his hands into her hair and drag her back towards the full bath.
She barely had time to close her mouth before he pushed her head under the water, straddling her so she couldn’t move. She beat his legs with her fists, tried to sink her nails into his calves, even as her lungs started to burn.
No. No.
&
nbsp; Black spots appeared in her vision, bubbles streaming from her nose as her body demanded she release the air she was trying so desperately to hold, to take another breath. She tried once more to move, only for her attacker to push her head deeper into the water as she pounded the side of the bath uselessly. She opened her mouth and screamed at the hopelessness of it.
And then heard a shout, and the crushing pressure at her back and head was gone. She hauled herself out of the water, air flooding her lungs as she finally took a breath.
She collapsed, coughing, gasping, and looked up to see Luvian facing the masked man with a broken bottle in his hand, edging towards him.
“You don’t have the guts, Luvian,” the man said to her advisor, as Sorrow retched, bent double on the floor.
“Try me.” He feinted at the man, who dodged. As he did Luvian slashed for real, and the bottle tore the fabric on the masked man’s arm. Blood welled from it.
“I didn’t think you had it in you,” the man said. Sorrow missed his next words as her stomach emptied on to the bathroom floor, catching only, “… be proud.” When she looked up, wiping her mouth with a sleeve, both men had gone.
She pulled the robe around her where it had fallen loose, and moved to the door, only to scream hoarsely when she crashed into a figure.
Luvian wrapped his arms around her and held her.
“Are you all right?” His voice was muffled by her hair. “Sorrow?” He kept a soft grip on her arms and pushed her back so he could see her face. “He’s gone. He ran. Come on,” he said, guiding her out into the parlour, then into his bedroom.
He left her standing by the neatly made bed and peered under it. Then he went to his own bathroom and locked the door, opened his wardrobe and trunk, before pulling the curtains away from the windows.
“This room is clear,” he said, reaching under his pillow and pulling out a wicked-looking dagger. “I need to go and alert the castle guards that there’s an intruder. You stay in here, take this –” he pressed the dagger into her hand “– and lock the door behind me.”
His eyes were bright, fixed on hers, and she gave a short nod.
“He killed Irris,” she said, the words ashes in her mouth. “Luvian, he killed…” She couldn’t finish, disbelief stealing Irris’s name from her. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be.
Luvian swallowed. Then again. “Lock the door,” he said finally. “I’ll send Dain up to stand outside it. Don’t open it until you hear my voice. Do you understand?”
Sorrow nodded, following him to the door and turning the key violently, before sinking to the ground. Her chest still felt tight, still ached, and she had a headache from where the man had hit her. She shuddered as she remembered the water rising up to meet her face, the feeling of submersion, the firm hand holding her there. And Irris… Irris… She gripped the dagger tighter, and waited, focusing on breathing, in and out.
Luvian was back within minutes, calling her name, and when she opened the door, her shaking fingers barely able to turn the key, he took the dagger from her and carefully led her to their small living room.
He sat her down as though she was a child, fussing with her robe, before pouring her a drink. The liquid was fiery, she didn’t recognize the taste, and it burned its way down her throat, at the same time clearing some of the fog from her mind, and she realized something, frowning up at Luvian.
They spoke at the same time.
“It wasn’t—”
“Do you—”
Before either could finish, five Rhyllians entered the room.
And then Irris followed.
Sorrow burst into fresh tears. Irris ran straight to her and pulled her into her arms, both girls shaking and crying.
“I thought you were dead,” Sorrow sobbed. “He said he’d killed you.”
“No, no, not me,” Irris said. “It wasn’t me.”
It took a moment to sink in.
“Who?” Sorrow pulled back. “Who did he kill?”
“I found Dain downstairs, in her room. It was Dain he killed,” Luvian said.
“No…”
“I’m sorry,” Luvian said.
Sorrow lowered her head to Irris’s shoulder again, as her relief at Irris being all right curdled into guilt, then misery. Poor, poor Dain.
A man cleared his throat delicately, and Sorrow looked up at the Rhyllians, surprised to see the prince consort, Caspar, among them. She made to move to kneel, but he held up a hand.
“There’s no need, Miss Ventaxis. Are you all right? Do you have the strength to answer some questions?”
She nodded, and Irris took her hand, sitting beside her as the prince consort continued.
“I’d like you to tell me what happened here tonight, as much as you can,” Caspar said gently.
Sorrow took another sip of her drink, the warmth of the liqueur making false courage in her belly, then spoke, her voice surprisingly level. “I left the ball, and came straight to my room. Luvian said Irris had come here, but she wasn’t here when I got back. I started to run a bath, and then I heard someone come in. I assumed it was Irris, but it wasn’t.”
“It was a masked man, Mr Fen said.”
Sorrow nodded. “It was one of the Sons of Rhannon. I recognized his voice, he was the same one who attacked me in Prekara, when Mael was there. He said he’d killed Irris.”
“And then he tried to drown you?”
Irris’s grip on her hand tightened when she replied. “Yes. Then I heard shouting, he let me go, and I could move again. I pulled myself out of the water and Luvian was there, with a bottle.”
“A bottle?” Caspar turned to Luvian.
“When I came back, Sorrow’s bedroom door was open and I could hear an odd thumping sound. I called out to her, and when she didn’t reply, I went to look. I saw her being held under the water, and grabbed the first thing that came to hand, which was a bottle. I smashed the end off and went to her aid.”
“And then what happened?”
“I fought, briefly, with her assailant, and I managed to slash his arm, then he ran. I followed but he was too fast. Then I brought Sorrow to my room, told her to lock the door, and came for you.”
“He spoke to you,” Sorrow said, and Luvian turned to her.
It’s what she’d been about to say when the Rhyllians, and Irris, arrived. The man had spoken to Luvian and there had been a familiarity to it. As though he knew Luvian, and Luvian knew him. And there was the final thing he’d said … the thing she hadn’t heard properly. Something something be proud…
If she hadn’t been looking for a sign something was amiss, she would not have noticed the lightning flash of worry that flickered over Luvian’s customarily calm face.
There was no sign of it when he spoke. “That’s right.” Luvian looked away from her, back to Caspar. “He told me I didn’t have the guts, to which I replied, ‘Try me,’ and that’s when I managed to cut him. Then he said, ‘I didn’t think you had it in you.’”
That was almost it. Almost. “‘Luvian’,” Sorrow said. “He called you by your name.”
“Yes,” Luvian said, meeting her eyes steadily. “He would have known who I am, of course. Almost everyone in Rhannon knows I’m your advisor.” He turned again to Caspar. “I expect that’s what he meant by saying I didn’t have the guts. I hope he’s learned now not to judge a book by its cover.”
It was smooth. Plausible. Yet Sorrow didn’t believe a word of it. If he knew who Luvian was from the campaign, then he’d know who Irris was too. He wouldn’t mistake Dain for her. What had the man said while she was vomiting? She desperately tried to remember… Proud… Someone would be proud…?
“Do you need a doctor, Miss Ventaxis?” Caspar broke across her thoughts.
“No, I’m fine.” She didn’t want a doctor; she was too worried they might try to sedate her. She wanted to stay focused and alert. She wanted to remember.
Caspar stood. “I’ve summoned all of the guards to search the entire palace complex. W
ith luck, we’ll find your assailant.”
Sorrow doubted it. If the man had managed to get into the supposedly impenetrable complex undetected, he would have got out the same way. Maybe scrambled over the roof… She gasped as she remembered something. Something she’d almost remembered once before.
“Wait,” she said. She pressed her fingers to the sides of her head, as though it might help her recall. “Charon told me when he arrived that someone broke into the house in the North Marches where we’d been staying. They picked the lock on the balcony door to my room. And I don’t think it was the first time,” Sorrow said, as Irris inhaled sharply. “The night before the presentation I took a sleeping draught. I woke later – or dreamed I woke later – because I heard something on the roof, then at the doors of my balcony.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Irris began, but Caspar silenced her.
“Please go on,” he said.
“It’s all so blurry. I remember the chime of metal. I got out of bed and knocked a lamp over. It must have scared them away. I put the key back in the door, and then I must have fallen asleep. I’d forgotten it until now.” Sorrow didn’t miss the fact that Luvian had turned pale.
Irris nodded, gripping Sorrow’s hand so tightly it hurt.
“I don’t think we can rule out a possible connection,” Casper said.
“What should we do now?” Luvian asked.
“That is up to you. If you’d prefer to leave at once, we’ll make a carriage ready with haste. If you’d like to stay until morning, we’ll move you to new rooms, and post guards outside your doors.”
“I want to go…” She hesitated to say it.
“Home.” Irris finished her sentence when she did not. “I’ll take you home,” she said softly, squeezing her hand again.
“I’ll have a carriage ready to depart within the hour, and a contingent of guards to accompany you, all the way back to your home,” Caspar reassured them. “And I’ll have the body of the guard prepared to travel too.”
“Her name was Dain. Dain Waters,” Sorrow said. She remembered Dain’s kind eyes, her soft voice. Her hopes. He didn’t have to kill her. He could have left her. A small spark of anger lit in Sorrow then.
State of Sorrow Page 30
