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Chapter Nineteen

Aleksander

Pain lances through my ribs as I slump deeper in my chair and take a long drink of wine, but it’s not enough. Nothing is enough!

Fuck!

I glance up, seeing my reflection in the looking glass, and I force myself to stare, to see the damage.

My right eye has swollen shut, the skin around it mottled purple and black. The bridge of my nose throbs with each heartbeat, and the split in my lower lip stings something fierce, making it impossible to smile even if I had anything worth smiling about right now. Which I don’t.

Suddenly, the bruises fade away, replaced by features I know all too well. My father’s stern mouth, his cold eyes, that look of perpetual disappointment.

Disgust surges through me as I hurl the goblet at the looking glass, and it shatters, sending silver shards cascading to the floor.

I glare at the shards as I reach for the false gold on the nearby table.

Of course, Jasce bested me earlier. He always has.

I could have screamed for guards, had him arrested, but something held me back. Maybe the need to defeat him myself. It would be far more gratifying to watch his golden throne crumble around him.

Tighter and tighter, I squeeze the rock, hating it, hating that I still carry it around like some precious relic.

“You’re the spare, Aleksander. You don’t matter. You’ll never matter.” I slam my father’s voice away, but not quickly enough.

It still echoes, still taunts me.

Nothing has changed over the summer. I’m always coming up short, always second best to perfect fucking Jasce.

My chest tightens as I think about Annora and the way she stares at Jasce, like he hangs the damned moon.

Does she know what he’s really like? That beneath that shiny veneer, he’s just as ruthless as the rest of us?

No, of course not. Jasce has them all fooled, but not me.

He may have bested me today, but he won’t win this war.

I won’t let him.

A knock interrupts my brooding.

“Go away!”

“My Lord?” Breda’s voice carries through the door. “I’ve brought you dinner.”

“I’m not hungry,” I say, hoping she’ll leave me alone.

“But you haven’t eaten all day...” Her persistence grates against my already frayed nerves.

“Fuck!” Frustrated, I stand, cross the room, and wrench the door open. “Does it look like I can eat right—”

The serving tray clatters against the floor. Food splatters across my boots.

“My Lord.” Her hands fly to her mouth, her eyes wide. “What happened to your face? It looks awful.”

“What an astute observation.” I curl my lip, though it pulls painfully at the split. “Perhaps next you’d like to point out that grass is green?”

Her surcoat flares around her as she kneels, gathering the scattered food. “I’ll fetch another tray. And I’ll make you a poultice for the swelling.”

“Don’t bother.”

“You need to eat.” She glances up, determination written across her face. “Even injured lords require sustenance.”

A laugh escapes me, though it holds no genuine humor. “Is that what they taught you here? How to mother wounded nobility?”

“No.” She stands, clutching the empty tray. “That’s what my grandmother taught me. She said kindness costs nothing but means everything.”

“How quaint.” Exhaustion settles deep in my bones as I lean against the doorframe. “And entirely useless in the real world.”

“Maybe.” She shrugs, unfazed by my barbs. “But I’m still getting you fresh food and a poultice.”

“Save your kindness for someone who deserves it.” I push away from the doorframe, ready to slam the door in her face.

“Everyone deserves kindness. Even those who think they don’t.”

“What I deserve is to be left alone with my thoughts and this delightful collection of bruises my dear brother bestowed upon me.”

“Brooding won’t heal your wounds.” She shifts the tray to one hip. “But proper care might prevent scarring.”

“Perhaps I want the scars.”

“Give me ten minutes to bring fresh food and something for your face. If you still want to wallow after that, I’ll leave you be.”

“You’re insufferable.” Frustration flares through me as I rake a hand through my hair. “Do you treat all your betters with such persistence?”

“Only the ones who need it most.”

“Fine,” I say when she keeps standing there. “Ten minutes. But if you’re even a breath late, I’m barring the door.”

Her face lights up, like I’ve granted her the greatest gift. “Thank you, My Lord.”

“Don’t thank me. Just...” I touch my fingers against my throbbing temple. “Just hurry up before I change my mind.”

She curtsies and practically skips away, leaving me wondering why the fuck her genuine care makes everything hurt worse than Jasce’s fists ever could.