Page 51

We take the hidden way in through the interior of the bridge that connects to his apartments, up the winding passage and in through his closet.

The entire time he holds me as though I weigh nothing, even though I know after all my weeks of training the very opposite is true.

Kaelis brings me to one of the sofas before the fire.

He disappears through one of the many side doors. I hear him calling for Rewina. His words are muffled, and I don’t bother straining my ears for something I can’t hear anyway. Instead, I sink deeper into the soft cushions and allow them to gently cradle every wound and tender spot on my body.

It smells of the prince…ink, cedar, oiled leather…

“You look quite content ruining my sofa with all your blood.” Kaelis is at my side, holding a bowl of water with a rag draped over the edge. At some point, I must’ve closed my eyes. Long enough that a purring Priss has taken up residence on my stomach. At least she doesn’t mind my state.

“It’s not just my blood.”

“That makes it worse.” He grimaces. “The only place I want Eza’s bloodstains are on the floor. And maybe my knuckles.”

“I didn’t take you for one to resort to blows.”

“I’m not, usually.”

I glance his way. “Am I to believe you’d get yourself dirty for me?”

“Believe whatever you like,” he says aloud. But his slight smile says simply, Yes .

“So you’d get your hands dirty, but not the sofa?” I try to keep levity in my voice even though that look he gave me caused my whole body to tingle.

“My hands are easier to wash.”

I fight a laugh. I never thought I’d be laughing in such a state. “You’re a prince. Buy another sofa. Buy several.” I scratch the cat between her ears and under her chin, which she readily sticks out for me.

“I like that one. More important, it’s Priss’s favorite.”

“And here I thought she was sitting on me because she likes me.” I meet a pair of bright yellow feline eyes. “Was I just in your way?”

“She has a habit of getting what she wants, like someone else I know.” He sets the bowl down on the table between the sofas and sits on the floor.

“Now I know you’re not talking about me.” My eyes flick to his.

“You have a prince personally attending you right now.” He produces a card from his pocket, and I barely get a glimpse of the Queen of Cups before it vanishes.

My flesh knits, wounds mend. It takes three cards to get most of the injuries healed, though I can still feel the ghosts of my wounds all over.

Kaelis takes my hand in his. Priss lets out a loud meow in protest that he dares to take away the fingers that had been so dutifully scratching her. Kaelis shoots her a mildly offended look before he begins to gently dab away the blood that is both mine from my split knuckles and Eza’s.

“Only because he insisted.” I’m fascinated by the oddity that is a prince—Kaelis, of all the princes—wiping away the blood and grime from my body. It’s the only thing that keeps me from pulling my hand away. Well, that, and I don’t want to disturb Priss.

Kaelis sighs heavily. When he next speaks, he sounds very tired. “Someone must; you clearly won’t look after yourself. Was that scene with Eza really necessary?”

“I’m not going to be Eza’s punching bag whenever he wants. And I’m certainly not going to let him use the Hanged Man to throw me into Halazar again…even if it’s only in my mind.” I make sure there’s no room for question between my words.

“I’ve no issue with you defending yourself, but did you have to go so far?”

“You’re really scolding me?” I blink at him.

“My father does like his Majors alive so he never will run out of their silver cards to use as he pleases,” Kaelis begrudgingly admits, reminding me of one of Eza’s last remarks. “He’s nearly found the complete set of twenty and isn’t a man who handles disappointment well.”

“I don’t give a damn about your father,” I say bluntly.

Kaelis snorts, and his eyes shine with what looks almost like fondness at the remark. “Perhaps not. But I give a damn about keeping his attention away from that which is mine.”

That which is mine… He’s talking about me. A shiver courses through my body, the cool air highlighted in the wake of Kaelis’s touch and the warm rag he runs over my skin.

“So, the next time, I recommend quitting while you’re still ahead,” he finishes.

“What happens if you kill a Major?”

“A Major’s magic always exists in the world, so it lives on in another.”

“A sort of reincarnation?” I ask.

“More of a transference. The magic moves to another individual instantly. It could be an old man, or a young baby. The person could be across the world, or right next to the Major who died,” he explains.

“But that person must be found, and then they must learn of their new abilities. As you can imagine, it’s quite the process. ”

“Eza will be fine as long as he doesn’t mess with me,” I say defensively. Then, after a stretch of silence and a soft sigh, I add, “You don’t know what it’s like to, for your entire life, be told you’re a thing that can be used, beaten, discarded.”

That has Kaelis stilling. The rag sits in the bowl, ribbons of red unspooling from it into the water.

“Perhaps you do,” I whisper. His attention still fails to return to me.

His own family forced him to sacrifice his futures to the Chalice.

I wonder, for the first time, what those futures were.

“After all, you knew I’d fight back at the first opportunity I had.

Which is why you gave me one when you tested my ability to use the cards to get out of Halazar. ”

Kaelis doesn’t respond and instead reaches back for the rag. He continues up my arm, and I continue lying limply, staring at the ceiling. Saying as much to him leaves me more exhausted than the fight.

“Am I just a game to you?” I whisper.

“No.”

The fact that I believe him makes tears of frustration prick at the edges of my eyes.

They don’t fall. I’m not that broken. But they threaten to.

It’d be so much easier if he told me I was nothing, less than nothing.

But he’s both looking after me and using me.

I’m trapped between, and it threatens to tear me in two.

Don’t let him win, Clara, a voice that isn’t quite my own cautions. I hear my mother’s whisper laced through it. Beware the void-born prince.

“Eza is stupid,” Kaelis says after a long stretch of silence. “No matter how badly you beat him, it’ll only make him come for you again. And harder than the last time. Try to make peace, even if it’s of a begrudging sort.”

“I know. He’ll probably bring friends again, too, now that he knows he can’t take me one-on-one.” I sigh and sink farther back into the cushions as Priss nudges my hand toward scratching her cheek. “He’s not the sort of man to tolerate being beaten—literally or figuratively.”

“Much like his father…” That remark has me turning to face Kaelis, but he stares through the fire instead of meeting my eyes. His hand holding the rag has stilled once more. “You have suffered much as a result of me.” There’s the thinnest thread of guilt lacing his words.

“ Nooo, have I?” I suck in a deep gasp of air and let sarcasm flood my voice.

A bitter laugh escapes through a grimace. But his expression turns serious once more. “I am sorry.”

“For what?” I want to hear him say it. There’s a lot for him to be sorry about, and it will mean nothing until he acknowledges what it is he’s apologizing for.

“Many things.” When he says it, I almost laugh at how well it mirrored my thoughts. “Not least of which that it’s my fault Eza hates you.”

“What do you mean?” There’s not a lot of love for the second-born prince in the kingdom, to be sure. But he sounds especially convinced.

“His father is Warden Glavstone.”

I inhale sharply, and our eyes lock. “ What? But they don’t have the same last name.” Something like that would’ve stuck out to me at some point in one of my classes.

“Bastard children are not uncommon for nobility. And his mother was of higher status in Clan Moon. Eza took her name and was accepted into her family. But the fact remains.” Kaelis has ceased his ministrations, as if he’s unsure he can still touch me.

“He got his mother’s looks and his father’s charming personality,” Imutter, unsure of what to do with this information. It doesn’t fundamentally change anything, but…“That’s how Eza knows I was in Halazar.”

“Yes, I can only assume his father told him. But Eza won’t say anything. I made that clear to both him and his father.” The defensive edge in Kaelis’s tone has my eyes searching his face for deeper meaning in those words.

“It’s a lot of faith to put into Eza…”

“It’d be my word against his, a battle he can’t win and knows it.” Kaelis sounds more confident than I feel. Perhaps his princely aura has made him ignorant. But, as the one to bear the risks, I’ve even more to be wary of.

“That’s why he’s attacking me in other ways, when he can. He can’t go after me in the most obvious way,” I murmur.

Kaelis nods. “And I suspect his resentment toward me for what I did to his father is being taken out on you as well. Given that it’s not as if he can attack me—you’re far more accessible.”

What Kaelis doesn’t say is, assuming that’s true, it means Eza believes Kaelis cares for me. He thinks that hurting me is a way to hurt Kaelis. Our ruse seems to be working, if other people really believe we’re madly in love.

“Priss, time to move,” the prince says.

“She’s fine.”

He’s already shooed her away and lifts my shirt without asking, baring my side from rib to hip.

The fabric has been reduced to little more than tatters, yet I feel oddly exposed, and the cooling washcloth against my hot skin sends a shiver through me.

The phantom pains from my ravaged body that were so recently there still tingle.