Page 47 of The Broken Prince

He chuckled then turned serious. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” I touched my cheek absent-mindedly, where the bruise was beginning to fade. “That’s the worst of it.”

Father remained at his bedside, unable to take his eyes off his son, his expression hard but his eyes emotional. “Rolfe blood is powerful.” He clapped his son gently on the shoulder. “I’m proud of you, son. You served your kingdom valiantly.”

Atticus avoided his gaze, clearly touched by our father’s praise but unable to accept it openly. “So…what were those things?”

Now the air in the room changed, the joy sucked out and replaced by a veil of tension.

Mother looked at Father for direction.

His eyes dropped for a moment before he spoke. “We’ll discuss it when you’re feeling better.”

“Wow,” Atticus said. “That sounds bad.”

“Nothing for you to worry about right now,” Father said.

“That means it wasn’t a war,” Atticus said. “It was just a battle, and we’ll be seeing them again. If it weren’t for that vampire in our ranks, we would all be dead right now. Father, I don’t think we’re in any position to wait for me to get better.”

* * *

Atticus was transported from the infirmary to the castle, where he would be more comfortable. A wheelchair was supplied, and one of the guards rolled him around where he needed to go—even though it made him furious.

The guard placed him at the table with us, the cooks in the kitchen preparing our lunch even though none of us were hungry. At least I wasn’t…because I was about to say something to my father that he wouldn’t like. “I think Aurelias should join us.” I looked across the table at my mother, who had gauze secured around her neck, medicinal herbs and ointment constantly reapplied every hour.

My father’s stare pierced the side of my face, white-hot. “That vampire will never sit at my table.”

I finally had the courage to meet his gaze. “His name is Aurelias—”

“I don’t care what his name is.” He kept his voice quiet, but his tone was furious.

“He saved us.” I slammed my closed hand down on the table.

He quickly looked away, like I’d just said the wrong thing.

“Father, this is ridiculous—”

“Don’t tell me what’s ridiculous.” His eyes moved back to me. “The fact that you feel any affection for him after what he did—”

“Let it go.” Now it was my mother who spoke. “Huntley.”

He slowly turned to regard her.

“This is not you,” she said calmly.

He wouldn’t look at her. Wouldn’t look at me.

“Harlow. Atticus.” My mother stared at my father. “I need to speak with your father alone.”

FOURTEEN

AURELIAS

I went into the wild to feed on animal blood, forcing myself to enjoy the taste rather than despise it. There was no other option. Human blood would make me far stronger, and I was certain I could find someone to give it to me willingly, but a man like King Rolfe would never understand that. However long I would remain here, this was how I would feed.

When I returned to the cottage, a guard was posted outside.

I was treated like a criminal…again.