My shoulders shake as another sob rattles me. I close my eyes, trying to breathe in my mother’s sweet scent around the iron tang of blood. Time passes endlessly. I sit for what could be seconds, minutes, days, or even weeks. The room clears out, leaving just me and my tender soul.
“Prince Merrick.” A feminine voice as smooth as butter.
I suck in a breath at how close it is to my own mother’s voice.
“Come.” Delicate hands cup my chin, pulling my gaze up. Valentina’s thumb sweeps across my cheek. She chases a tear. “Let her go.”
What strength I had has diminished, taken from me as my mother was. The queen takes a couple minutes to pry my hands from my mother’s corpse and gently lower her body back to the dais. She stares for a moment before inhaling and standing.
I must look a terrible mess at her feet. Her bright eyes shine with pity as she offers her hands. My fingers are slick with blood, and I hesitate as I reach for her. Her palms are so clean. Free of the marring marks of death. She closes the space between our palms, wrapping her hands around mine and pulling me up to my feet.
My face feels swollen, my throat raw, as I take one final look at my mother.
“She was a wonderful, kind woman, and she made my life here better.”
She made a lot of people’s lives better.
A sob breaks my lips, and I pull my hands away to cover my face. Tears are burning down my cheeks. She shouldn’t see me like this. I’m the crown prince, damn it.
Valentina says nothing as she wraps her arms around me, pulling me against her in a fierce hug that only pulls more tears and broken wails from my body. She’s dry, warm, and smells like cinnamon. Her fingers comb through my hair. Her embrace holds me up for a couple more minutes before I pull away with a sniffle.
She nods. The front of her blue gown smeared with crimson streaks. Her fingers interlace between mine, leading me away. I blink, and I’m no longer in the meeting room but my own bedroom.
Everything in me has gone cold and numb. I can’t stop the tears that pour down my cheeks, like I’ve opened the floodgates, and they can’t yet be closed. I can feel Valentina around me, but my vision has lost its ability to focus. I stand still, allowing her fingers to tenderly peel away the layers of my bloodied clothes.
I blink again, and I’m in my bathroom. Steam fogs the mirrors from the shower that is running behind me. I’m thankful to not see my reflection.
Water stings my forehead before washing away the day. Valentina’s lips are curved down in a frown. I hate when she frowns. Her smile is so beautiful. Droplets drip from my fingers as I lift my hand and touch her mouth. She glances at me but runs a soft sponge over my torso, not stopping me from wiping away the blood I’d gotten on her.
She’s still dressed, the fabric clinging to her torso as it dampens, while I’m bare before her.
“I’m sorry,” she says quietly. “I can get someone else to help you if you want.”
Someone else? It takes me far longer to understand what she’s saying than it should.
“No. Please stay.”
The way the water runs over my cheeks, I can’t tell if I’m still crying or if it’s the shower. I don’t care anyway. Valentina purses her lips and continues running the sponge over all my available skin.
Tipping my head back, I close my eyes and let the heat rush over me. Every muscle in my body is tense as the image of the knife sliding over porcelain skin plays again and again and again.
I can hear Violence scream out.
I can feel her chaotic powers shake the entire palace.
I can see my father walking away.
Then it all repeats.
Over.
And over.
Until I’m no longer a person but the personification of a memory.
13
Violence
