“I shall see you tomorrow, Prince Lonan,” Belial said as he slowly followed me when I limped my way to his front door.
I cleared my throat and muttered, “I apologise for the blood,” seeing the trail of it I had left on his floors.
“No matter.” His lips quirked when I glanced at him. “I’ve scrubbed your blood out of my floorboards once already.”
The freezing air stole my breath when he opened the door and I limped outside. After he closed the door without another word, I stood there shivering violently for a few seconds before forcing myself to start limping towards the palace. The village was still quiet and deserted, but I stuck to the shadows to avoid any eyes peering out of windows.
Every step up the palace stairs was agony, pulling at my thigh and taking twice as long as normal. When I reached the top, I forced myself to stride briskly towards the doors, ignoring the guards who hurried to open them for me. I pretended that my vision wasn’t winking in and out from the pain. That I wasn’t caked in sweat, my skin grey and clammy. That my leather trousers weren’t coated in blood, the stained bandage peeking out from the long slit in the thigh.
I didn’t let myself slow as I made my way through the palace and up yet more stairs. At least it was quiet. No sign of my brothers or mother, but I drew my blade anyway and gripped it in a trembling hand.
My room was dark and cold when I made it inside, closing the door and leaning heavily against it, dropping my blade to grip my wounded thigh. My breaths shuddered out of me, and as Belial’s poison worked its way through my system, my skin grew agonisingly sensitive. Even the soft shift of the borrowed shirt over my arms was like salt rubbing into raw wounds.
I needed to light the fire to try and get warm. But before anything else, I limped to my bedside and picked up the acorn necklace with trembling fingers, fumbling to do up the clasp once it was round my throat. I exhaled in relief as its warmth seeped into my chest, but my eyes grew hot just as fast.
Ash was gone. He wasgone. He remembered nothing of me, and if he had, he would have hated me anyway. I had lost him entirely.
My vision was blurry as I knelt at the fire with a pained groan and built it quickly. My mother and brothers had servants who did this for them, but I allowed no one in my room. I had multiple charms on my door so that no one but me could set foot in here.
Once the fire was lit, I couldn’t get up. I could hardly move, panting weakly on my hands and knees as the flames dried the sweat dripping from my face and hair. I crawled to the bed and heaved myself up onto the mattress, collapsing on my back, my breath catching from the pain. The sheets were smeared with blood within seconds.
My chest on fire, I reached up and enclosed the warm acorn in my fist. My head turned to stare at the jar on my bedside, its orange glow so warm. I could feel myself fading quickly, the poison coursing through my system.
But before I fell unconscious, I wept. For everything I had done to Ash. All the pain I had caused him, even as I’d tried to stop it. For everything I had lost—the only thing that had ever truly mattered to me.
Part of me hoped that I wouldn’t wake up.