Page 26 of Glass Hearts

Hidden in a dark corner, Arabella cannot see me. But I can see her. I saw what Bernice said and did to Arabella. It took everything in me not to run off to confront the awful woman. Guilt eats at me; I put Arabella through this.

Once I figure Bernice is far away from the hallway, I make my way towards Arabella who has crumbled down onto the side of the wall, head to her knees, crying. I am gutted at the sight.

When she hears me coming, she instantly gets up, wiping her tears, but keeps her gaze lowered.

“Ah, and that is why your cheek is red?” I gently lift her face by placing two fingers under her chin. Tears track down her lovely face. My heart breaks even more at the sight.

“Mind your business, Prince. And I will mind my own.” She backs out of my light grasp, turning to leave.

“Arabella, stop.”

Her back is still to me, but thankfully she does stop, her shoulders dropping.

How can I explain that I can’t help wanting to know her business? To know everything about her? When she came into the terrace room and I saw her heartbroken face, I almost crumpled. All I wanted to do was take her into my arms and sit her next to me.

Truthfully, I have felt no connection to any of the women. I had known before meeting Arabella that I was never going to marry for love. I had made peace with it. Then, the little vixen made her way into my life. Our lives. Sometimes I even dream that she could be our missing piece to our bond.

We have shared women before, but never in the emotional, romantic sense. The council once again would never allow it. So here I am, having to keep Arabella at a distance for all she tempts me.

“Arabella, I think you should move back to the room. It was a mistake to put you in the servants’ quarters. Maybe find you a unique position where you don’t have to see that vile woman.”

Arabella sighs audibly and turns around. The look of tiredness and sadness shows upon her tear-stained face.

“Prince Sylas, respectfully, you can take that room and shove it up your ass. I don’t need your protection. Stop trying to pretend you care. Bernice will find me regardless of where you have me working within the castle. I need you all to leave me the fuck alone.”

With that, she leaves. Taking the air from my lungs along with her.

I need to punch something.

* * *

As I walked into the fighting den, my adrenaline pulses.

I can smell the blood and sweat in the air, building up the anticipation in my veins.

The crowd is large today; the sounds rumbling from the stands.

I put on my fighting mask as The Stone and wait, ready to be announced.

I must wear a mask to keep my identity protected, but it is also part of the club rules; it’s all about anonymity.

Plus, the council would disapprove of my fighting matches.

The council.

At first, their guidance had been essential to me and my brothers. We were lost princes with crumbling empires. I have always respected authority, and it seems like they had it in spades while also seeming to care about us not only as princes but as young lost boys.

A few council members left, and new ones came on. Things started to change bit by bit. But over the years it somehow progressed to their controlling, not advising, our every move.

Part of me has been blaming Arabella for dividing me and my brothers.

But really, it’s the council. How good of a brother am I to deny Grayer and Koi happiness?

Is it jealousy because so far, it doesn’t include me?

I had thought I was protecting my brothers by leading them to follow what the council says.

If we just follow this order, they will leave us alone. But will they ever?

The announcer calls my name as I enter the ring. I am up against another regular fighter, The Death Arm. He is a powerful fighter—they don’t call him the Death Arm for nothing. His right hook is nasty. I can’t help the smile forming as he smirks from across the ring.

This is going to hurt, and with excitement, we begin.

The fight lasts long, both of us unwilling to take the final blow, enjoying our brutal dance.

I was able to get a few good hits on him, and he, in return, got a few good hits on me.

I can feel blood running down my face and cuts opening at my chest from his rough glove.

Not up to fighting standards, but I don’t mind.

The crowd gets antsy as we come close to the last round call. The Death Arm makes a sudden attack on me, his normal tells not present. He has me pinned to the mat.

“Well, Stone, looks like this win will be mine today. I am tired of you always winning. Been training harder.”

“Good for you, but you haven’t trained hard enough.” With all my might, I push him off me. We wrestle on the floor before I get him into a headlock. He taps out immediately, and the ring announcer calls my win.

I shake hands with The Death Arm, smiling. “Want to go for drinks, Stone?”

“Not tonight, buddy; you almost had me there.”

“At least I got you all bloodied up. I call that a win.” He laughs as he walks off.

* * *

The Death Arm got a few good hits on me. The cut above my eyebrow is still bleeding by the time I get back to the castle. I will have to stitch it, hoping it doesn’t scar.

I make my way towards the medical bay, close to the servants’ quarters. I am almost there until I bump into someone. We both crash down painfully. The poor woman drops a bundle of linens that falls all over her.

“Shit. I am so sorry.” I automatically respond until I see it is Arabella who I had bumped into.

“Oh my gosh, Prince Sylas! What happened to you?” Arabella crawls to me, worry fretting her brow. Tingles shoot around the gentle touches she gives me on my face.

“I was just about to go to the medi bay to remedy it. It looks worse than it actually is.” I am mesmerized as she frames my face in her tiny hands, taking inventory of all my minor injuries.

“Is it just your face?”

“A few gashes to my chest, but it’s nothing of concern.” She grabs my hands and stands up, and I follow.

“I will have to get you more.” I pick up her now dirty linens, handing it back to her.

She waves her hand at me. “Don’t even worry about it; it was for Kip and Bert, they won’t care.”

Surprisingly, she grabs my hand once more and directs me to follow her to her room. I happily follow.

Her room is so small, I feel like a giant in a shoebox. She places the dirty linens on the desk and into a little ball. Her mice, right away, make way for the pile.

“They like to build nests,” she says as she goes through her drawers, pulling out a little medical kit. “Please sit on my bed, Prince Sylas. I am not trying to make any advances, but you may need to take your shirt off, too, so I can tend to those wounds.”

“You… are you going to help me?”

“Of course, that’s what a decent person should always do.” She snorts as if it’s a silly question. “I will be right back.”

As soon as she leaves, the room starts to feel so empty.

I take inventory of her space as I take off my bloodied shirt.

On her nightstand lies a book with a couple in an erotic embrace, ‘The Duchess and the Rake.’ My mind goes to me holding her like that.

Caressing her breasts and kissing her neck.

My dick instantly hardens at the thought and I curse myself for being a creep getting hard in her room while she isn’t even here.

Dropping my bloodstained shirt on the floor, I sit on her tiny, super uncomfortable bed.

This bed just won’t do, and it makes me feel like a jackass even more.

I shouldn’t have moved her to this room.

I should have protected her. Arabella walks back in with a bowl of warm water, a towel and a tender smile that I don’t deserve.

She goes to another drawer, removing a bottle of soap.

“I don’t think this is how Grayer intended for me to use all the soaps he gifted me.” She laughs lightly as she readies her water and tools.

I don’t miss how she just called Gray just by his name, not by his Princely title. I also don’t miss the sudden heat in her eyes as she takes in my naked chest.

She clears her throat, and I bite back a smile. I love seeing that I made the Vixen react in such a way. I could get addicted to that look in her eyes.

“Why do you have a medical kit in your room?” She comes over to wash my wounds with the wet cloth and soap. The attention of her hands on my skin has me melting. I feel no pain as she tends to me.

“For a few reasons. I find it’s always better to be prepared. Sometimes, I have to patch up my animal friends. But most of the time, I need to tend to myself. When you get into the work I do, everything isn’t as easy as trying to seduce some handsome princes. It is usually a lot more… risky.”

“Arabella. There isn’t anything honourable in stealing. You are a bright young woman who can do many things. Why steal?” She stops her ministrations and looks me in the eyes. I fear she is going to stop and kick me out, but instead, she surprises me by answering.

“I know you and the other princes think I am an awful person. And maybe I am. But I don’t think things can be so black and white.

I don’t steal from just anybody—I steal from bad people.

People who use their wealth to manipulate and abuse.

I target those who use their wealth to get out of justice or face the repercussions of their actions.

Am I a bad person for stealing from the greedy business owner who cuts wages to make more of a profit for himself?

While his employees live paycheck to paycheck, struggling to get food on the table for their families? ”

I know it is rhetorical, but I am speechless nonetheless.

In our search for the shadow, we never really clued in to who she was targeting. My reasoning and wall crumble at the realization that I had her pinned all wrong.