Her storm-cloud eyes shift from my face to my brother’s. With a sharp intake of breath, Valentina steels her spine and opens the door further. “Of course I will help. I’ll do my best. Come in.” She steps aside. “The guards have already checked my room, so we should not be interrupted.”
“Thank you, Queen Valentina.” Casimir practically purrs with relief, shouldering his way through the doorway. His steps are brisk as she heads for the long black settee. He becomes gentle as a lamb when he sets Aeton down. I can hear his knees crack against the floor when he lowers to Aeton’s side, pressing a soft kiss against his forehead and whispering against his skin.
I have to look away. The less I know, the better. Though through the worry, through the stress of the day, some fraction of me longs for what they have. I would have to be stupid and blind to not see the way these two love each other behind closed doors.
My attention jumps to Valentina. She stands on her tiptoes, reaching as she searches through the top of her large wardrobe. A white, sheer robe is untied, the long belt hanging down to the floor, forgotten and unused. Under the robe, she wears a short, baby blue silk gown with lace at the edges and skinny little straps. Does my father ask her to wear such things, or is this her preferred outfit for sleeping? The hem hardly reaches the tops of her thighs, and the neckline dips low enough to reveal a scandalous amount of cleavage.
I’m still staring at the outfit—her body—when she turns back around, a medical kit held tightly in her hands. Before she can make it to Aeton’s side, I step into her path. Valentina lets out a little gasp as she looks up to me with a deepening frown.
“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” I remind her.We can leave right now. You can avoid being a part of any of this.
“Get out of her way,” Casimir rumbles, a threat hiding behind his words.
She doesn’t even hesitate to answer. “I want to help.” Then, with the commanding voice of a queen, she adds, “Now get out of my way.”
I oblige, my body heating. The demand in her tone only makes me want her more.
The robe pools on the ground around her knees when she settles next to Aeton, her hands gently remove the tied fabric and prod the wound as she examines it. “He needs stitches, and he will likely scar. He’s very lucky though that the cut didn’t go deep enough to hit his windpipe.” She looks at Casimir, who has gone completely still. “He will heal, and he will live, but he has lost a lot of blood and will need adequate time to recover.”
How are we going to hide this? I start pacing the room behind them while Valentina sets to work, and Casimir brushes his fingers through Aeton’s hair again and again. It’s odd to watch Casimir, my strong warrior brother, be so... tender.
Closing my eyes, I turn away when a needle is pushed through flesh. My stomach heaves. I’ve seen blood before. I’ve seen wounds. But none as gruesome as this. I suppose I have my father to thank for sparing me from battlefields. Vomit threatens to rise up my throat, and I have to take several slow, deep breaths. I take one more step away, swaying on my feet, and my vision goes black.
Chapter Ten
Merrick
My body jolts, only stopped by the gentle touch of delicate hands. A cold cloth swipes across my forehead, the scent of a strong herb tingling my nostrils. Blinking, the world around me is hazy for several long seconds before my vision is clear.
“Who knew you would be so fragile when it came to seeing blood?” Valentina smiles over me.
“Not blood.” I cough, cringing as a sharp pain spikes on the side of my head. “The needle.”
The lie slips easily over my lips. Because admitting that Aeton’s wound is the same wound my mother wore into death is too hard to say. Casimir was able to save Aeton. I didn’t save my m other.
She laughs softly. “I’ve stitched you up before. It has healed quite nicely too.” She brushes a finger over the white scar across my forehead, and I shiver. Her soft touch disappears.
“I know, but I don’t actually remember that.” I’d been in shock from my mother’s death. The pain of witnessing that far outweighed the reality of my face being sewn back together. Moaning, I reach a hand to touch my head, fresh blood matting my hair.
“You passed out and took a nasty fall, bounced your head off my coffee table.” She grimaces, and I wish she’d smile at me again instead. “Good thing you were out, though, because I was able to stitch up your side too.”
Tucking my chin to my chest, I’m able to look down to my torso where my bloodied, ripped shirt has been parted to reveal fresh sutures and pink skin.
“Thank you for tending to my wounds.Again—”
The door to her room is flung open, slamming against the wall with a startlingbang. Valentina is standing. I prop myself up on my elbows.
Aruis storms into the room, blue eyes blazing as if hell itself lives within him, and rushes to his brother’s side, pushing Casimir away. “Whatthe fuckhappened to him?”
Casimir stumbles a few steps. His jaw drops open, his expression some sort of mix between sorrow, anger, and regret. “Assassins came for Merrick and me.” He pauses, though we all know what should be said next. Aeton had slept in his bed last night. Aeton had been there when the assassin had arrived. “He—I—”
“Spit it out, you imbecile!” Aruis shouts. Aeton twitches on the couch, but his eyes are closed, his skin a sickly color, and a thin layer of perspiration shines over the sharp angles of his cheeks.
I sit up further, ready to defend Casimir if I must, but he shoots me a warning glare that reminds me that he can handle himself.
“The assassin got to him first. But Aeton’s scream,” he closes his eyes, the sound of his lover’s shouting likely replaying over and over in his head, “Aeton’s scream woke me fast enough that I was able to push the assassin away before he could cut deep enough.”
Was that Aeton’s blood that was on Casimir’s face? It’s gone now, washed away at some point while I lay unconscious. I’d wrongly assumed that it was the blood of the assassin, who, as it had appeared, had been torn to shreds in some fit of rage. That is who I thought of Casimir as. A man able to tear through another, someone who could chop an assassin into a million little pieces and not even bat an eye.
