Page 14 of Beast’s Surrender, Beauty’s Revenge
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
ALMAS
The revenge I’d imagined—bloody, Lord Uther left to agony and death—was so much like this, and somehow, my imagination hadn’t prepared me for the truth of it. The stench of blood and bodies split open washed over me, tightening my throat as if I’d be sick any moment. My stomach turned.
And there was Percival in the middle of it all, chest heaving, his grimace filled with rage. He raised his sword and?—
This wasn’t what I wanted. I did not like the people of my village anymore. Perhaps I had once, but they’d turned their backs on me and I saw no reason to try and salvage something from all that pain. Nevertheless, I didn’t want to see them slaughtered.
Moreover, I did not want to see Percival’s hands coated with the blood of innocents. A man did not lock himself away for centuries because he was at ease with the concept of killing.
No, this wasn’t him, and I wouldn’t allow it to be.
My breath hitched, and I surged forward, holding onto the memory of running my hands through his hair as we’d bathed in the creek, how he’d gone soft beneath the touch. Remembering how he had stood at my side, ready to defend me against those men around their campfire and here, against Uther. He’d neither crowded me nor turned his back on me. He’d defended me without belittling me or claiming any stake against me, just because he was good.
And I would not turn my back on him now. Whatever came next, if he razed this place to the ground, it would be on us, together.
When his eyes landed on me, he flinched, his shoulders rising in a quick gesture, almost like he’d caught himself from lunging forward and striking—at the woman who’d insulted me, at the guard on the ground, it did not matter, because when Percival saw me, he froze.
With a shaky breath, I nodded. I understood. He didn’t want to hurt me. I trusted that he wouldn’t.
I edged closer, between him and the other villagers, holding his eyes with my own while his jaw flexed.
“It’s all right,” I said, reaching for him, over the rough woven linen of the shirt I’d stolen for him, up around his neck where I could feel his pulse hammering beneath my palm. “You did what you had to do, and now it’s over. There’s no more Tingard.” I wanted to promise him, to show him the world and let him see that it was safe, his enemies were dead, and now was the time to grieve his losses and move on.
For me, too, I realized. There was nothing for me here, no home—even that had been destroyed by people fearful and looking out only for themselves.
“They’re all gone. You are safe. We are all safe, thanks to you. You don’t have to fight anymore.” I pushed up onto my toes then. I couldn’t show him the whole world, but I could—I could show him something to hope for, a spark in my chest that warmed when I thought of his kindness and unassuming strength, when I realized that because of him, I wasn’t alone.
I kissed him, not parting my lips or pushing inside, but warm and firm and there. Please, please feel this like I do .
His breath shook, same as mine, but some of the tension went out of his shoulders. His sword arm fell, the point dragging across the bloodstained street.
“Be with me,” I whispered against his lips. I pressed my forehead to his, hard, willing him to breathe easier, to let go of the ridiculous sword in his grip.
I’d sworn to help him, but it wasn’t that alone that pushed me. I wanted to be seen and held and protected by the man I’d come to know, who was still finding himself through all the dark. I wanted to support him in turn, to learn more about him.
I wanted him, wasn’t ready to let him go, and certainly couldn’t watch him destroy himself just to defend me.
“Please, Percival,” I begged, tears streaking down my cheeks. “I need you with me, beyond today. Beyond tomorrow. Don’t lose yourself where I can’t find you.”