Page 41 of The Broken Prince

“I’m so sorry…”

“It’s okay, Huntley,” she said into my chest. “It’s okay…”

Harlow walked over, her eyes damp at the sight of us.

I didn’t want to release my wife, but I needed my daughter, so I pulled her into us, hugging both of my girls at the same time. The tears burned hotter as they fell down my cheeks, all my grief and relief coming together as one. “I’m so sorry…” It was all I could say, all I could get out. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Ivory pulled away, her hands cupping my face. “We’re okay.”

My daughter had a bruise on the side of her face, and even that was too much for me.

“We’re okay, Father,” Harlow said. “The maiden said Atticus should pull through…”

“Delacroix survived,” Ivory said. “As did all of us. That’s all that matters.” She swiped my tears with her thumbs, her eyes watering in pain because I was in pain, seeing her like this. “It’s alright.”

I’d left my family…and I would never forgive myself.

I turned away from them and looked at the vampire I had foolishly released, and I pulled out my blade again.

“Father,” Harlow said. “What are you doing?”

“What I should have done in the first place.” I came at him again.

Like last time, the vampire refused to draw his sword, choosing to evade my attacks instead.

“Father!”

“Huntley, stop this!”

I ignored both of them, intent on killing this blood-sucking bastard.

“Huntley, he saved me,” Ivory said. “I would be dead right now if it weren’t for him.”

I stopped in my tracks and looked at my wife incredulously.

Ivory slowly approached me. “One of those monsters had me by the throat, and he was going to kill me…but Aurelias put himself between us so I could run. He saved my life. He saved our daughter. He saved Delacroix.”

My heart shook my ribs with every beat, the anger so deep it couldn’t be controlled. Now I was indebted to the man I hated—and that made me hate myself more. I turned my gaze to look at him, his stare neither smug nor arrogant, just calm. I should have been the one to protect my wife and daughter—but I was gone. I was gone…and he took my place.

I returned my sword to my scabbard and severed the tense eye contact between us. “Where’s my son?”

“The infirmary,” Harlow answered.

With my cheeks wet with my tears and the rage bottled inside my chest, I walked off and headed to the barracks.

TWELVE

IVORY

I walked into the room and found Huntley at Atticus’s bedside. He sat in a chair against the side of the bed, his hand resting on our son’s bicep, his eyes wet from the tears he had already shed and the ones that were on the horizon.

My son was tall and strong like his father, just as proud but not nearly as stubborn. His skin was tanned from all the time he spent outdoors serving his kingdom, but that beautiful skin had faded to the color of milk. His breathing was labored, like every breath cost too much energy for his broken body.

Huntley didn’t look at me, his eyes distant as he stared at our boy.

My hand went to Atticus’s, cold to the touch despite the warmth of the day.

My husband still didn’t look at me—as if he didn’t notice I was there.