Page 8 of Obsessively Yours (Fae Kings of Eden #2)

8

A few days later, Roman lay on his bed and stared miserably at the black satin canopy above. He’d told his mother he didn’t feel well and locked himself in his rooms all day like a petulant child. Truthfully, he didn’t feel well, just not in the way he’d led her to believe.

He slid his gaze guiltily to the untouched soup his mother had delivered earlier. Perched neatly on a meal cart with his favorite sweet bread, the “feel-better” meal taunted him. He hated lying to his parents, but he couldn’t bring himself to deal with anyone today.

The day before yesterday, Violet hadn’t shown up to his weekly dinner with the Maekins. Meri said Slayton had invited her for dinner at his house. Yesterday, Roman looked into the guy. Slayton was their age, lived in town, and worked at the grocery store his father owned. Her mother hadn’t mentioned Violet having dinner with Slayton and Griff or any of Violet’s other friends. Only Slayton.

It could be nothing, but what if Roman misread things and Violet had feelings for this other guy and not him?

Roman had warned everyone in the palace school against touching Violet, but he hadn’t thought she’d meet a guy from town.

To make matters worse, Violet barely looked at Roman in class, not even when Ms. Bonner squawked in outrage at the sight of the upturned classroom the morning after the birthday ball.

Alarm bells rang through the air, snapping him from his miserable thoughts. The deep chimes echoed off the stone walls, and Roman strained to decipher the code. His heart sped up with recognition. Rebels.

Rebel factions attacking the kingdoms were an ongoing problem throughout Eden—always had been, always would be. The rebels wanted to end the royal bloodlines. They believed the throne should be earned, not inherited, but their selfishness only proved how ill-suited they were to rule. The throne passed down the royal bloodlines because non-royal fae were too weak to properly defend an entire kingdom under attack. There had never been an assault large enough to require the use of their most powerful magic, but if there ever was, they’d be ready.

If someone sounded the rebel alarms within the palace, then rebels had already breached the palace walls.

I have to find Violet. Roman rushed to his dressing room, threw on his leathers, strapped on his weapons, and skidded to a halt halfway to the door. Shit .

Vivian’s safety should be his top priority. His father might disown him if he failed to protect her. Mate bonds were the sole reason the royal bloodlines stayed strong, and if Roman couldn’t find a way to transfer the bond from Vivian to Violet, he’d have to marry Vivian to keep his kingdom safe.

Still, Roman would check on Vivian after he ensured Violet’s safety. Vivian should be in the arena training with the other junior warriors, and he didn’t feel pain or fear through their bond. Only nervous excitement.

Not surprising Viv would think a rebel attack is exciting, he thought incredulously.

Roman ran down the hallway and skirted around the corner nearest the stairs, smacking into a maid with a meal cart. She shrieked and the contents of her cart went crashing to the ground.

Roman grabbed the maid’s arms to keep her from falling and familiar eyes stared back in shock. Not a maid. Violet . “What are you doing here?” he asked with a shaky, relieved breath.

“Mom said you weren’t feeling well. I made you soup.” She pointed with a shaky hand to the mess on the floor, “and I wanted to see if you’d have dinner with me when you’re feeling better so we could talk.”

Violet’s daunting words hung over him like a sharp blade waiting to strike, but he didn’t have time to demand an explanation. With great difficulty, he slammed his warring emotions down and locked them up tight. Now that he knew Violet was safe, he could move his focus to finding Vivian and his parents.

“The alarms mean the rebels are inside the palace walls, don’t they?” she asked him. “I-I need to find my mother. She knows I’m here and will be beside herself looking for me.” Trembling fingers fiddled with one of the beaded bracelets adorning her wrist.

The chance of rebels getting inside the actual palace was low, but Roman couldn’t leave Violet to wander the halls alone. Think .

“It’s not safe for you to walk around by yourself. The guards will have already ushered your mother and the other staff into safe rooms.” Taking her hand, he dragged her down the hall and into his rooms, not stopping until they reached his bedroom. Roman bent next to the bed, lifted part of the black damask bed skirt to tuck under the mattress, and gestured underneath. “Hide under here and don’t come out until I tell you to.”

Violet dropped to the floor and scooted her lithe body underneath the dark cherry wood frame. She rarely did what he said on the first try, and her submission stirred something inside him.

Roman lowered to his knees to peer under the bed, and the terror on her face took him aback. He tried to sound reassuring when he said, “I’ll be back.”

He started to stand but she latched onto his arm with a clammy hand. “Please, don’t leave me.”

His fists tightened on the bed skirt at her desperate plea, and every instinct screamed at him to hold her until the warriors neutralized the threat. “I have to find Vivian,” he explained instead, “and they might need my help to fight.” As a royal fae, even at sixteen, his physical strength and skill outmatched most of their strongest warriors. “You’ll be safe here.”

Scared eyes begged him to stay, and he averted his gaze. “I’m scared, Rome.” Godsdammit .

The increasing terror in her words cut through him like a knife. “I know, princess, but I have to check on your sister and find my parents.” The words sounded harsh as he battled his growing trepidation at leaving her there, and she flinched.

She freed his wrist and dropped her arm to the floor with resignation. “I understand.” It felt like something broke between them, but Roman didn’t know what or how to fix it. Violet had to know he didn’t want to leave her, right?

If Roman shirked his duties, his mother and father would never forgive him, and if something did happen to Vivian, he’d never forgive himself. But if Vivian dies, the bond breaks.

Appalled at his unsavory thoughts, he rose abruptly. “I’ll be back for you. I promise.”

“Rome,” Violet called out softly.

He hesitated, knowing if she asked him to stay again, not even the gods could make him leave. Kneeling again, he peered under the bed. “What is it?”

“Keep Vivian safe.”

The whispered words cracked something within him, and it took all he had to nod.

Roman plucked the section of bed skirt out from under the mattress, stood, glamoured himself and Violet to be invisible, and bolted from the room, locking the door on his way out. He knew his glamour wouldn’t hold all the way to the training arena where Vivian should be, but it should stretch at least to the palace walls. The last he’d tested his glamour’s strength, he could glamour the entire palace and courtyard, but not beyond. At some point he would be too far away from Violet for his magic to keep her hidden, and he cursed himself as he raced down the wide staircase.

Glamour training had always interested him the least, and he put most of his focus into the political and battle aspects of his training. He wanted to slam his fist into a wall at his own stupidity.

As Roman ran through the halls, he noticed guards methodically moving from room to room, calling out as they cleared each one. “Did any rebels make it inside the palace?” Roman asked a guard nearest the palace entrance.

The middle-aged woman bowed. “No, Your Grace. Only a handful of rebels made it over the walls, and we dealt with them.” As if hearing the woman’s words, the alarms stopped.

Roman offered his thanks and jogged outside, pulling up short to stare, perplexed, at the small number of dead bodies being dragged into a pile. In the distance, guards knocked on every cottage in the warrior compound, clearing every home and ensuring the people’s safety.

The bodies littering the pristine pink grass were easy to identify as rebels by their black-market weapons and armor. They weren’t poor quality, per se, but they were made from scraps of various metals melted together. The crown monitored steel, iron, and other precious metals, and rebels had to smuggle scraps or use things like old iron stoves to make what little weapons they had.

As he surveyed the bodies, his confusion grew. It made little sense to send so few fighters into a palace crawling with guards and warriors. The plan reeked of decoy, but for what? Rebels caused chaos in attempts to cause unrest in the citizens by proving that the royals couldn’t protect them. It never worked because Roman’s parents did protect their people, and they protected them well.

The only other aim would be to kill the royals, and seeing as there were only three, Roman and his two parents, all of whom could handle a rebel with one hand tied behind their backs, the simplicity of the attack confused him further.

He scanned the courtyard and warrior compound for his parents. They were likely already discussing the attack with their council.

Frustrated, he stalked off toward the palace gates. Palace security was unmatched, and the top of the palace walls had spikes embedded in them four years ago after the queen of the Mountain Kingdom was murdered. Rebels had snuck over their walls and killed her in the palace garden.

Roman had never seen the Mountain Palace’s walls, but his father said they should have been impossible to climb. The next day, modifications on the Tropical Palace walls began.

Rebels should not have been able to infiltrate their courtyard today.

“ Where are you?” War’s voice demanded, breaking into Roman’s spiraling thoughts.

“I’m on my way to the arena to find Vivian.”

“Vivian and the other trainees are well protected,” War assured him.

Roman knew that, but if one of his parents happened to be at the arena and knew he didn’t check on Viv, he’d never hear the end of it, otherwise, he’d still be in his bedroom. “Violet is hiding under my bed. Will you stay with her until I can return?”

“I’ll take care of Violet,” War promised. “Stay on guard. The attack could have been a distraction.”

Roman cut the connection and jogged toward the palace gates. He feared the same thing.

* * *

He left me, was all Violet could think as she laid shaking under the bed. Roman had responsibilities as the prince, especially to his mate, she knew that, but she couldn’t help feeling abandoned.

A loud bang sounded on the door to Roman’s rooms, and Violet’s lungs seized. Please be a guard doing room checks. Seconds later, the sound of wood splintering made her jump, and two sets of heavy footsteps clomped through the sitting room. Guards wouldn’t break down the door, would they? She didn’t know the protocol for the royal quarters. It would make sense to not give anyone a master key, but breaking down the door? No. Something’s wrong.

Violet covered her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut. This can’t be happening.

Heavy footfalls made their way into the bedroom, and Violet concentrated on keeping her breathing as quiet as possible.

“Kincaid said the prince took ill this morning,” a scratchy voice said.

“He’s not in his bed, but the bedding is still rumpled. Check every room,” said the other as a door banged open. These men weren’t very bright. Breaking down a door and stomping around in the loudest way possible would have alerted Roman to their presence immediately. If he were here, he would have killed them.

After a few minutes of banging around the other rooms, the men returned to the bedroom. When two worn black leather boots appeared next to Violet’s head, she sucked down a gasp and tried to creep backward toward the headboard.

“He’s not here.” The bed dipped, followed by an exasperated sigh and the sound of Roman’s bedside drawer opening. “We outta see if there’s anything expensive that’s small enough to carry.”

“We don’t have time,” the other replied angrily. “The diversion won’t last long. I knew this wouldn’t work on such late notice.”

“We’ll regroup and try again. If we kill the brat before he has a kid, the royal line ends.”

Violet had heard her father talk enough about the rebels to know their primary goal had always been to extinguish the royal bloodline and take over. They’d tried for generations but never succeeded. To hear them speak so callously about killing a teenager they’d never met sent sickening chills down Violet’s spine.

“We need to leave before they clear this floor,” the man across the room told the other.

“A ring,” the man on the bed said, sounding pleased. “We could sell it for a pretty price.” A small box clattered to the ground and a large, gold ring rolled under the bed toward Violet.

Dread unlike any other crashed through her, and she tried to curl herself into a tight ball at the head of the bed.

The man rose from the bed, grumbling, while the other urged him to leave the ring. “Leave it, Clay. We have to go, now .”

Please, leave , Violet silently begged.

“That ring could buy us a few new weapons,” Clay argued. He lowered to the ground beside the bed and lifted the bed skirt. His shaved head and cruel eyes peered under the bed in search of the ring, and when his gaze landed on Violet, his mouth spread into a malicious grin. “Well, well, well.”

She shook violently, her ears and head pounding as her limbs began to tingle. They were going to kill her. Or worse.

“There’s a girl, Abe,” Clay called over his shoulder.

Abe walked toward them and bent down to look at Violet. Where Clay’s eyes were bloodthirsty, Abe’s were calculating. He was a handsome man in his twenties with shoulder-length dark brown hair, light olive skin, and the palest grey eyes Violet had ever seen. For a moment, she thought he’d spare her.

That hope died a quick death when he said, “Seems the gods are on our side. That’s the prince’s mate, Vivian Maekin.”

How does he know about Viv? No one knew Vivian and Roman were mates outside of family and the council. No one.

Clay laughed, and the sound was the ugliest thing Violet had ever heard. Abe stood, and she heard metal slide against leather. “We need to kill her and leave before anyone finds us. Drag her out.”

Clay reached a meaty arm under the bed to make a grab for Violet’s arm. Screaming, she pushed herself against the wall. His attempts to reach her were futile, and Violet thanked the gods for Roman’s oversized bed.

“Come out, girl, and we’ll make it quick,” Clay sneered. He reached for her again, but his shoulders were too broad to fit under the frame. “I can’t reach her.”

Abe ripped up the bed skirt on the other side of the bed and jammed his arm under the frame. Abe was leaner than Clay with longer limbs, and his fingertips brushed against Violet’s skin.

She screamed again but had nowhere left to go. “I’m not Vivian,” she sobbed. “I swear.”

Shoving his shoulder completely under the frame, Abe reached for her again as she screamed and begged him to leave her alone, to not kill her, to let her go. He ignored her pleas, and with another grunt, he shoved his entire upper body under the bed. When they both realized he had her, her screams and sobs became pure terror.

A beastly roar thundered through the room just as Abe’s hand closed around Violet’s wrist. Clay yelled something, but Violet couldn’t make it out over her own screams.

Abe released her, eyes wide with fear, and tried to push himself under the bed, but something ripped him back with blinding speed. The bed skirt fell, obscuring her vision, but screams and violence echoed through the air. Violet slapped her hands over her ears to muffle the horrifying sounds of death. Her body curled back into a ball, her muscles tightening to the point of pain, and breathing felt impossible.

She didn’t know how long the decimation lasted, but after a while, the room filled with an eerie silence. Soft thuds neared her and a bloodied white paw reached under the bed, followed by a few huffs and whines.

War.

Violet crawled toward the tigon and laid her quaking hand on his large paw. He tried to stick his head under the frame but couldn’t go any farther than his nose. “Is it safe?” she whimpered, hating how her voice broke.

War purred and his tongue darted out to lick her hand.

“I’m coming out,” she told the big cat, and he moved so she could inch her body out into the open.

A nightmare surrounded her, and she had to swallow another scream.

Violet slammed her eyes shut, not wanting any details of the bloody massacre to sear into her brain. She dropped to the floor beside War and blindly reached for him, needing something to anchor her. “You saved me.” Her body trembled harder as the adrenaline wore off, and she squeezed her arms around the beast’s neck as she cried.

* * *

Roman released a breath of relief when he saw the junior warriors sequestered in a weapons room with a wall of guards blocking them in. “The juniors are all accounted for and safe?” he asked Latton, the new sparring instructor.

“Yes, Your Grace. All but you,” the man deadpanned.

Roman classified as a junior warrior, but his royal title and extra training put him high enough to not only fight alongside his men, but to call the shots if his mother and father weren’t around. It irked some of the other warriors and guards, Latton included.

Roman ignored the instructor and scanned the juniors, finally spotting the top of Vivian’s auburn hair. She chatted with the guy next to her, and Roman felt ridiculous for worrying. He closed his eyes and connected with War to check on Violet.

The moment they connected, he stumbled, watching helplessly through his familiar as a man tried to force his way under Roman’s bed while another stood on the other side.

War ripped the man out from under the bed and attacked in a whirl of teeth and claws, but it was Violet’s screams as she begged the men to not kill her that embedded themselves into Roman’s soul. He would never forget that sound as long as he lived.

What have I done?

“Rome!” Vivian yelled. “What’s wrong?”

Roman cut the connection with War and took off in a full sprint, ignoring Vivian’s calls. He could feel her anxiety and fear mingling with his own, but he didn’t have time to explain. Vivian had always been safe. He’d known that—had been able to feel it—but he let his sense of duty override his instinct, and Violet paid the price.

If anything happened to her, he wouldn’t survive it.

Nothing prepared Roman for what awaited him when he stepped inside his bedroom.

There wasn’t much in way of furniture because he liked space and despised clutter, but what little he had, namely his bed and nightstands, glistened with darkening blood spatter.

The two rebels lay mauled and dismembered on the red-stained rug, as if War had thrown their severed limbs around like discarded chew toys. Bloody quills dotted the floor, some embedded in bits of flesh.

Roman found Violet on the other side of the bed, kneeling beside a blood-soaked War with her arms wrapped around the tigon’s neck.

“Princess,” Roman rasped and crossed the room in a daze. He reached out for her, but she flinched away from his touch, breaking him even more.

“I thought you’d be safe here,” he whispered helplessly, yet she still wouldn’t look at him.

He glanced back at the remains on the floor, absorbing the reality of what almost happened. A tether inside of him snapped, freeing a darkness full of hate.

I almost lost her. He blamed himself; blamed the rebels; blamed the gods.

Footsteps ran into the room. “Oh my gods,” Vivian choked out and pushed him aside to grab her sister.

Violet turned and threw herself into Vivian’s arms, and Roman stared numbly as Vivian rocked her sister back and forth, whispering soothing words into her ear.

Vivian’s chaotic emotions—fear, relief, and confusion—tangled together in Roman’s chest. His own emotions threatened to crush him, and he wondered if they were crushing her too.

Did she feel the utter devastation and fury so potent he could taste it on his tongue?

He stared at the Maekin sisters, knowing Violet would never be the same.

And neither would he.