Page 40 of The Broken Prince

Ian said nothing either, his face paler than the snow.

Still shaking with anger, I got to my feet, my eyes wet with furious tears. I said nothing to my family before I returned the way I came, all the soldiers still as statues while they listened to my tantrum. It was dead silent, my boots against the earth the only sound—along with the pounding in my temples.

Ian came to my side and walked beside me.

“No.” I grabbed him by the shoulder and shoved him back so hard he almost toppled over. “Your job is to protect HeartHolme. Protect your family better than I protected mine.”

* * *

Storm was tired from our journey and hadn’t eaten either, but once I told him what had happened, he raced across the continent with the speed of the wind, just as attached to my family as he was to his own brother.

We arrived in Delacroix an hour before sunset, the field charred in places where the pyres had been. The gate was missing because it’d been removed from its hinges entirely. The castle remained, but the wall around it was broken in places.

Storm landed with a hard thud, and then I was on the ground, running as fast as my legs could carry me, exhaustion and hunger too weak to dampen my determination. I ran past the guards into the city, running to the entrance of the castle so fast my legs burned.

Harlow wasn’t there to greet me. Instead, it was him.

The man who had destroyed my life.

His eyes locked on mine as he stood in midnight-black armor, his broadsword slung over his shoulder, his cloak hanging down his back and getting caught in the slight breeze. He was there when I should have been, and now my wife and son could be dead.

I pulled my sword out of the scabbard and approached him, desperate to swipe his head clean from his shoulders. “The second I leave, Delacroix is attacked…and you just happen to be here.”

He didn’t pull his blade out of the scabbard, choosing to keep his arms by his sides. “I fought for Delacroix with the same dedication I would fight for my own people.” He was calm in my fire, not the least bit intimidated by my intentions.

“Where’s Harlow?”

“She’s in Minora to visit her mother.”

My girls weren’t here, and that killed me. “Then Atticus has recovered?”

“No.”

“Then who’s in charge?”

His eyes hardened, like he didn’t want to answer.

“You motherfucker.” I rushed him, striking him down like he was the enemy at my gate.

He blocked the sword with his vambrace then dodged my next attack. All he did was evade, didn’t even pull out his own sword to fight me.

I hit him with a flurry of blows, only getting him on the shoulder once. “How.” I kept going, determined to chop this fucker into pieces. “Do.” I slammed my sword down where his should be, but he was gone again. “You.” Pissed off, I struck my sword as quick as I could, not focusing on strength or form, just desperation to hit my target. “Keep doing that?”

At that moment, Pyre passed directly overhead and circled, preparing to land.

I stepped back as I looked at the dragon, my heart in my throat because I knew who was on his back.

He landed as gently as he could and immediately flattened onto his belly to bring his body as close to the earth as possible.

Harlow sat behind her mother, supporting her around the waist as she gripped the reins.

“Baby.” I rushed forward and grabbed my wife, stilling when I saw her neck…that it was burned.

Her eyes met mine, and they lit up with an unspoken joy. “Huntley…”

I got her into my arms and helped her to the ground before I cradled her into me, hugging her like I never had before. My lips kissed her forehead, and I felt my eyes moisten when I pictured the sight of her neck, the damage she would carry for the rest of her life.

Because I hadn’t been there.