The Silent Princess

by T. A. Grey

  None of that kept her from placing him in the Gerioux cemetery with the largest tombstone of all, an angelic cherub figure, poised with its hands to the heavens. He lay in rest next to his mother and father.

  May he rest in peace....

  Something startled her. Perhaps a sound. Her brain didn’t even register what exactly, but she spun around quickly.

  Too late.

  Her fear quadrupled, mouth opened to scream, but Xavier, with rage-filled eyes the likes of which she’d never seen launched himself at her. His palm smashed across her mouth, bruising but stifling her shouts.

  With incredibly strength, he forced her backwards and slammed her against the brick hearth, keeping her locked there as she struggled to free herself.

  “You bitch. You stupid, fucking bitch. You think you can beat me? You can’t. It’s impossible. No one beats me, I get what I want, Lysette. I always have.”

  You didn’t get me, she thought.

  Smugly she glared at him, telegraphing her thoughts. He’d always wanted her. He’d wanted her to mate with him instead of Etienne all those years ago to which she’d refused him. And after her beloved husband’s death he’d spent numerous occasions trying to “woo” her into marrying him. She hadn’t bought into his snakery for minute. He only wanted power to her kingdom.

  As if she would ever give him that.

  He growled and his spit caught her in the face making her flinch. Her heart clamored in her chest like a rock spinning in a dryer.

  “I smell your fear. It reeks like shit and piss. Like human filth.”

  Her body trembled, she swore she had no control over it or she wouldn’t have given him the satisfaction.

  All she could think was that her guards were dead. Otherwise, how did he get in here?

  “They got away. Again.” He spit directly in her face, the wet stickiness clinging to her cheek disgustingly. “I’m sure you’ve heard about it already.”

  He did appear quite disheveled for a man who normally kept himself impeccably attired and groomed. A man who typically got a weekly manicure to buff his nails. Even his hand smelled of sanitizer as if he’d recently used the substance. Yes, Xavier might not know it, but she’d been keeping tabs on him.

  Suddenly she bit down on his palm. With a roar he shouted, tearing his hand away, only to make a fist which came at her so quickly she didn’t react--wouldn’t have mattered if she had because she was stunned. His hard knuckles slammed into her face. Not once. Not twice. Eight times. The back of her head cracked against the unyielding brick with a nasty wet sound.

  Thoughts vanished. Leaving only the most visceral of emotions: fear, panic, and pain.

  She collapsed and cradled her injured face and tried to scoot away from him. He began pacing, his fists white-knuckled, except where splotches of blood covered them. Blood which dribbled down her swelling face. Her nose took the worst of it, but her lip had been hit too and it swelled quickly like a boxer’s face.

  “They never should have gotten out of this pack. You’re too unfit to run this empire. It should be mine. Hell. It doesn’t matter. Because it will be mine. It’s only a matter of time now until you’re ousted one way or another.” He paced like a tiger locked in a cage, agitated, teeth bared, fists bloodied. “I barely managed to get away myself. Nearly took a bullet to the brain by Gavin’s men. Do you know what silver bullets do to a lykaen’s brain?”

  She crawled away, but didn’t make it far.

  “Where do you think you’re going, little bitch?” He swung his leg back and let it fly forward; the force caught her in the ribs and lifted her a few feet off the ground with its force.

  Bone cracked and snapped and she screamed in pain, holding her sides as she collapsed back down, curling into a ball.

  Another kick, this one to her back and she began to cry in earnest.

  “You want this to end? This isn’t going to end, my sweet. Not at all. Because they’ve gotten away.” He bent down and snatched her by her hair, yanking her head up to meet his angry eyes. So much hatred in them. “Do you hear me? Gavin came and helped rescue the two fugitives who were going to guarantee me a victory. They’re now safely tucked away in the MacKellen pack while I’m here fucked to figure out how to get them back.”

  He released her and turned his back on her, once more pacing.

  Slowly, Lysette started to laugh. It built and built until, gradually Xavier turned around to face her, his expression dangerous.

  “What are you laughing at?”

  Louder and louder she laughed, even though it hurt her insides and cracked her split face. But, hell, it was funny.

  “WHAT ARE YOU LAUGHING AT?!”

  He kicked her and pummeled his fist repeatedly into her face, into her stomach and her thighs. Pounding her into oblivion. She lost track of how many strikes. But she couldn’t move. Bones were broken, bruises forming and blood curdled from her salvia when she smiled up at him, flashing her broken teeth. Her breaths rattled in her lungs with a nasty, dying sound like that of the sickly or elderly.

  He looked almost stunned at her laughter. An image she’d keep in her mind for as long as she lived, which she estimated to not be much longer.

  “It’s funny.” She spat a wad of blood, but it dribbled down her cheek.

  “What’s funny?”

  “It’s funny that all this happened because I let them go and now you’ll never be able to touch them.”

  His head cocked so he could hear her better. A surreal stillness came to his muscles. Like a tiger preparing to attack.

  “Pardon?”

  Leave it to him to try to be respectful after hitting her.

  “I said I let them go. I found them in the barn before they tried to escape. I could have stopped them. I even had a gun. But I let them go on one condition.”

  His eye twitched and she sensed he was passing the point of no return.

  Yet, she continued.

  Etienne would be proud, she thought.

  “That’s why I provided the distraction.” She smiled but that hurt so she stopped. “My mate always told me stupidity made the best distractions. It creates an atmosphere of confusion. They escaped under one condition.”

  “What was that?”

  “That you die.”

  She’d surprised him.

  Good.

  For a while, nothing was said.

  She lie on the floor bleeding out and from the corner of her eyes, she saw blood creeping under the doorway. That hurt her more than anything. Innocent guards murdered over her...for nothing. All for nothing.

  “I suppose there’s only one way to end this.”

  Stiffening, he straightened to his full height and tugged on the hem of his black wool trench coat. An expensive item surely. “I’m sorry it has to be this way, Lysette. I’d wanted it to go differently. We could have made a great kingdom out of this pack, you and me. King and queen, alpha to mate, but I see now that I’ve made a grave mistake in putting any faith in you whatsoever. Say your goodbyes Lysette, I’ll give you a moment.”

  He gave her his back.

  Tears blinded her vision; she snorted, thready breaths panting through her damaged nose. It felt like she was breathing through a straw with holes poked in it. Never able to get enough air to fulfill her.

  She closed her eyes and envisioned her entire life. All the ups and downs. All the beautiful moments and those which she was ashamed and detested. She thought of all of it, but most of all she thought of the good she did, of the food she fed to her people, of the happiness she’d sustained in this pack for years. Just as she’d told Etienne she would do. She had carried out her promise to the one man she’d ever loved in this world. To perhaps the one person she loved more than herself.

  She heard him turn around and considered keeping her eyes closed, but decided at the last second to open them. She wanted him to look her in the eyes when he did it; she wanted him to live with it.

  He pulled out a knife. It was long and sharp and mad
e of silver.

  Useless as a newborn babe she lay on the floor as he approached her.

  Even watching it about to happen, she was still surprised at how quickly he stabbed her. At how much rage went into it, at how much he enjoyed it and how much effort he put into it, how deeply he shoved the blade, knocking bone and organs, severing tendons and veins irreparably. It felt like the blood was gushing out from her. Likely because it was. A dozen stabs, then a dozen more. He took his rage out on her weak body.

  Grunting and sweating all over, her he stabbed, stabbed, stabbed. Her body slumped and flinched and convulsed one last time.

  And she watched him through it all. Comforted in the thought that she would die at peace with herself and this world she’d lived.

  Finally, she would meet her mate again in the afterlife. They would be together once more.

  Dear, sweet Ettienne, I am coming for you, my love.

  And she couldn’t wait.

  The final strike cut off her vision and ended all thought that would ever be of Queen Lysette Antoinette-Marie Gerioux.

  Chapter THIRTY-SEVEN

  Alex heard the knock at the front door.

  He didn’t want to move to answer it.

  Charlotte smiled at him. “I’ll go answer it.”

  As she left to do that, he forced his legs onto the floor and sat up. For a moment, his head spun with dizziness and his stomach churned, dangerously close to making him spew.

  Fuck. He felt like shit.

  His entire body dragged, weak and tired. Completely depleted. He needed a damn vacation.

  Voices from a conversation drifted to his ears, one of which he could identify blindfolded, thirty years from now in a crowded room of strangers. He’d always be able to recognize her voice. Impossible to forget, burned in his memory.

  Hanna.

  Upon hearing her voice, he stood, a robotic, automatic reaction, and winced as his muscles pinched and tore from stiffness.

  Fuck. He hurt all over. The worst of it was in his face though.

  His feet were slow to move but he made his way toward the front door--he had to see her--he touched the bandage around his head. He must look like a damn mummy with thick gauze wrapped around his head injuries. What little good it’d do him. The healer had wrapped enough bandages around his skull with salves to help speed up the healing process. Hopefully he didn’t frighten her away.

  He shuffled into the living room hall and froze as the group at the door turned to face him. They wore varying expressions from surprise to shame to guilt. Whatever. He didn’t care, didn’t even have time for this. Plus, he only had eyes for one person.

  Damn.

  Seeing her for the first time since the shit-parade took place was like being shot again. It stunned him. Took his breath away, and amped up his blood pressure.

  He wanted her to run to him (only cause it hurt him to move so damn much) and he wanted to hold her for a year, cuddled together in his bed. What a sap he was becoming. But something in her gaze made him apprehensive. So he didn’t move towards her, this woman whom he’d been through so much with, whom he’d shared his battered soul with, and she’d accepted him. Unafraid and proud. She was something special all right.

  “Gavin,” Alex said and shook his alpha’s hand.

  “How you doin’?”

  Alex merely gave him a long look and Gavin grimaced.

  “Yeah, I see. Like shit, huh?”

  Charlotte, his ‘friend’, bounced on her toes nervously. “I’ll, um, just be going.” Squeezing past the big MacKellen family, she gave Hart a long look before biting her lip and retreating. Hart didn’t look too happy to see her there.

  Someone cleared their throat.

  Tension and awkwardness, that’s about how he’d describe this little reunion.

  Hanna stared up at him, and then turned to her family. “I’ll see you later.”

  “But--- ” Gavin protested.

  She held up her hand to silence him. “No. I’ll call you if I need you.”

  Begrudgingly she managed to shoo her family away, though they really didn’t look happy about leaving her so soon. He got that, would probably feel the same way too.

  Finally, his front door closed, and Hanna MacKellen stood in his house for the first time.

  For a minute, she wouldn’t look at him. She studied his house, which managed to make him feel self-conscious. He didn’t have a lot of nice shit like she did. He simply didn’t make as much money, had never cared for it, so long as he had enough money to put food on the table and keep a roof over his head.

  Some nights as a teen he didn’t have either of those things.

  “I’m thirsty. Wanna drink?”

  A shot of whiskey would do wonders, but he didn’t keep alcohol in the house anymore. His dad’s little problem with it had helped to stamp that one into his brain at a young age.

  Finally she looked at him and it took his breath away. Cursing inwardly, he swore his heart even performed a somersault upon seeing her, practically trying to leap out of his chest.

  He was being fanciful and he didn’t like it.

  They were both acting awkward and uncertain and he didn’t care much for that either. One-step at a time, he supposed.

  She nodded and he headed to the kitchen.

  He started boiling water to make tea. That’s what you were supposed to drink when you didn’t feel well, right? Least that’s what movies taught him.

  As if he didn’t have enough worries on his plate with the mummified fiasco around his head, but here he was brewing tea like some old lady.

  Would you like one lump or two, he thought mockingly. His eyes rolled.

  “Who was that?”

  The first words she’d spoken.

  “What?” He understood perfectly, but hell, he wasn’t comfortable talking about it. He scratched the back of his neck. An itch that refused to go away.

  That’s when he noticed Hanna looked even stiffer than he did. She hadn’t even taken a seat as he had at one of the bar stools at his kitchenette. She stood near the doorway as if needing to be near an exit. She might need to leave in a hurry--a fact he didn’t care for.

  “What are you talking about?” he tried to bide time.

  The kettle began to boil providing some background noise to an otherwise silent house.

  She shook her head and hesitantly took a seat at one of the bar stools furthest from him. And why did that feel like a stab to the gut?

  Her throat convulsed. “Nothing,” she said shortly. “So how are you?”

  “Trying to change the subject? Listen, about Charlotte---”

  “No, don’t,” she said swiftly, slicing her hand through the hair. “I don’t need an explanation. It’s none of my business. We aren’t... That is… I mean…we never discussed an ‘us’ so it’s none of my business. I have no right to ask.”

  His eyebrows rose at that. Hell, considering her past with her ex, he understood her hesitation. He’d think he was a cheating bastard too, except he wasn’t.

  “Hanna, whatever you think, I can tell you right now it’s wrong.”

  She sat stiffly, barely meeting his gaze, but she nodded as if she agreed. He didn’t buy her acquiesce.

  The kettle whistled. Alex grabbed tea bags and for the first time in his life poured tea for two.

  “Okay. Talk,” he grumbled. “I hurt too much for this bullshit.”

  She hung her head. “Sorry. It’s just...I guess seeing some young woman here, with you, and my first thoughts were... Well, they weren’t even thoughts. More like old feelings of betrayal that have nothing to do with you and everything to do with To and my trust issues.”

  That he understood. “She’s my ex. I guess they called her ‘cause I ain’t got no next of kin and got even fewer friends. Plus all of my friends were over at your place. She’s one of the only ones who’d come to help take care of me, I guess.” His jaw cracked as he flexed it. It didn’t feel good to admit it, like bearing another weakne
ss.

  Gentle eyes stared up at him. “Oh, Alex, I’m so sorry. I came as soon as I woke up.” She laughed unsteadily. “After having a freak out of my own.”

  “Yeah?” he prompted, curious.

  She let out a shaky breath. “Trust me. You don’t want to know. It was bad and let’s just say my house is a disaster and I’d rather see it burn down than ever set foot in it again.”

  He didn’t know what prompted him to say it. Hell, he’d barely even had the thought before the words scrambled from his mouth. “You can stay here as long as you like.”

  Her mouth gaped and a softness came into her eyes. But, then she shook her head. “I couldn’t. That’s inappropriate. We aren’t even...” She sighed and deliberate drank her entire scalding hot cup of tea, wincing through it all.

  Alex couldn’t take the space between them anymore. Like a heavy wall blocking them, separating them, when they belonged close.

  “Babe...” He stood and crossed to her. Her breath caught and, for some reason, tears misted in her eyes and her breaths grew charged. “Babe...” he said again, gently, at her side.

  She looked up at him and for a moment, he felt like he was her world, like he mattered greatly to her. It was humbling and solemn.

  He cupped her cheek. “I missed you.”

  She laughed unsteadily and cupped his hand letting her eyes fall shut.

  “Alex, I don’t remember much. What happened to you? To us? I woke up in my bed at home. Alone” She shrugged helplessly.

  “Speaking of bed. You tired?”

  “I’m not energized, that’s for sure.”

  That made him smile. Grabbing her hand, enjoying the soft delicate nature of it, he tugged and showed her quickly around his house. Three bedrooms, two baths, which meant one bathroom never saw any use. He took her to his bedroom. The sheets were already pulled back. Simple black sheets, nothing spectacular. They probably weren’t even as soft as hers were.