My entire relationship with Rorrick is a fucking mess. His father was my master. And when he died, I was passed down to Rorrick. He didn’t want me. He never hurt me. I know that and he knows that. But there’s a stain on our relationship that will never fade. It will always be there, with tense glares and bitter tastes in our mouths.
We’ll never be friends. Not really.
He stands over me now. A giant of a man. A big palm splays open, and there’s shame in his eyes as he helps me up.
He doesn’t apologize. He shouldn’t. I deserved exactly what I got. I just shouldn’t have made him give it to me.
I brush the dust from my pants. Rorrick doesn’t. He’s staring... I look up and find him watching Christian. There’s a deep line between the prince’s eyebrows. And he’s still fixated on the mess of splinters left on the floor from the chair.
“My sister’s been Promised,” he utters.
I blink at all the words he isn’t saying. His voice is a haunting tone, not filled with authority or power. It’s empty.
“He said he wouldn’t Promise Delilah. He told me he wouldn’t after mother died.”
It’s not only his voice that’s haunted though. Shadows crawl across his pale face in an unnatural way. Smooth veins turn inky across his neck and jaw. The thing inside him... the magic that he hides... it’s pissed.
And we’ll all be fucked if he lets that thing out.
“Who did he Promise her to?” Rorrick’s hands frame his hips as he seems to sort all this out.
Rorrick and Christian are alike. Too much problem solving and not enough self-care. That’s why they’re filled with anger they can’t control.
But I can’t say I blame them for their anger. There’s a lot to be angry about in the Dark Lands.
His father has sold off all of Christian’s half sisters. Sent his sons away to defend our borders. But he has never had the nerve to Promise the only full-blooded family Christian has left.
Until now.
He’s a real fucking bastard for all that he’s done. But this—this might get him killed.
“Who did he Promise her to?” I repeat, my voice carrying more emotion now that even I can’t contain.
The hair on the back of my arms lifts little by little before he ever utters the words.
“The Thorn King.”
Chapter 12
Rorrick
“Should I check on her?”
Seven’s dark eyes narrow on me and I wish I hadn’t said anything at all. The mess of Christian’s sister and our far too alluring prisoner are all screwing with my head.
“I just mean, Christian mentioned we should get her some food. Human’s need food more oft’n than we do.”
That annoying look keeps picking me apart and I hate how easy it is for him to fucking make me overthink every goddamn word I say.
“Never mind.”
I walk away from the Prince’s study and the shitty smirk on Seven’s lips. Deep down, it’s the guilt that gets between us. I didn’t own him. I didn’t abuse him. He was a slave that was given to me when I was a stupid kid. What the hell was I supposed to do with him except befriend him the best I could?
We’ll never truly be friends though. He’ll always see me as a means to his imprisonment. The enemy.
And that’s just fuckin’ fine by me.
The moment I turn the corner of the empty hall, I shift. The world spins around me, seemingly growing larger as I grow smaller. I land on four padded paws and it’s honestly the most freeing feeling in the world. I’m overlooked when I’m in this form. No one glares at a small black cat. No one whispers about the tattered scars that line a such a fragile creature’s body. I’m no longer a hideous monster.