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VEYKA

Make it stop.

Bed—a bed. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t stand.

I had to move fast. Faster than those pretty winged handmaidens, listening for me. To preen, to primp, to make me into something I was not.

Not a queen.

Lost, scared, alone.

I tumbled through the secret door. Not a secret anymore.

I didn’t care.

Out, out, out.I had to get out.

I couldn’t see a thing. My eyes blurred with tears. I lost my footing, tumbling down the ragged stairs. I scented my blood as the tender flesh scraped along the jagged edges. My nails tore as I grappled at the walls, trying to find purchase, trying to stop the fall.

I couldn’t make it stop. I couldn’t.

But then I did. On the little landing, where Arran had pressed his body against mine in promise and threat.

Then I was on my feet again. I savored the burn of the scrapes and bruises as I spiraled down, down, down. Dragging myself through the mud, faster and harsher than ever before so I earned more wounds. But I kept going.

Until the sky was open above me, dark and sparkling.

But instead of lying there, panting on the ground, I shoved myself to my feet.

I ran.

I ran and ran and ran until each breath was a ragged grasp, and the skin between my thighs burned with chaffing. Still I ran on, determined to get away.

If I ran fast enough, I could escape the pain and the memories. If I ran fast enough, I could make it stop.

No one else had ever been there to help me, to save me. I was alone in this fight, had always been alone. Arthur had freed me, but not soon enough.

Wetness coated my face.

Tears, streaming down my cheeks as I cried for myself like the pitiless, worthless princess I was.

Except I was not alone.

Through the trees, I saw the flashes of white. A mass of fur and fangs, claws and violence. Tracking me, running with me.

For the first time in my life, I was not alone.

56

ARRAN

The message came sooner than I’d expected.

From the pain I’d seen etched in her body and the fear I’d scented as she ran through the forest, I’d thought it would take her days to muster the strength—maybe even weeks.

But the message came mere hours after her return to the goldstone palace, to meet her in the water gardens.

I strapped my broadsword across my back, tucked a dagger into my boot, all in addition to the battle axe ever present on my belt. I suspected the terrors of the water gardens were mental, but I felt better with the steel kissing my body.