I lifted my right shoulder.
“He touched you?”
“Sometimes.” My gaze lifted to the black doors trimmed in silver. “Most of the time, he didn’t get a chance.”
“You kicked his ass?”
My lips twisted into a smirk. “On more than one occasion. But others couldn’t always fight back.” I suddenly thought of Princess Kayleigh sobbing quietly in the woods. “Tavius was betrothed at one point, to a younger Princess from Irelone. I don’t think he was…kind to her.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” He fell quiet then, but not for long. “The day he whipped you…” he said, and my gaze flew to him. Nyktos dragged the cloth along the flesh above the waistband of my leggings, washing away the thin trails of blood. “Why did he do it?”
He’d asked that before. I hadn’t told him then. Nyktos waited, quiet as he bent his head. He didn’t look up at me, and maybe that was why I felt I could speak. “Tavius hated me. I don’t even really know why. Honestly, I don’t think it was personal. He wasn’t nice to many. He was just that kind of person, you know? Someone who derives strength and pleasure from dominating others. And when they can’t do that, it makesthem all the more determined to do so.”
“I know the type,” he said.
I imagined he did. “His father—King Ernald—died the night before, and the King, he sort of…I don’t know. Reprimanded Tavius for his behavior before. I think I was more shocked than Tavius was, but with his father gone and him about to become King, it was like whatever had been holding him back was no longer there. He blamed me for the Rot,” I added after a few moments. “He thought I should be punished for failing.”
“Failing?” Nyktos’s shoulders tensed. “For me not taking you as my Consort?”
I looked away from him, focusing on the pinkish water in the bowl. “Among many other things, I’m sure. Anyway, he wanted to punish me.”
Nyktos lowered the hand that held the cloth to the desk. “And your mother? She acted as she did that day? Did nothing? Because she, too, blamed you for the Rot? Believed you had failed?”
There was really no point in answering.
“What would have happened if I hadn’t felt you that day?” Nyktos asked as my gaze shifted to his hand holding the bloodied cloth. His knuckles had bleached white. “What would he have done to you once he had his fun with the whip?”
I shook my head, my stomach churning as I recalled Tavius holding me down on that narrow, uncomfortable bed. Pressing me into the thin mattress until I felt like I was choking. I shifted, gripping the hem of my sweater until I felt the thread beginning to pop.
Nyktos had picked up my glass with his other hand. “Drink.”
Knowing I’d likely hurled those stifling, choking emotions at him, I grabbed the glass and finished off the whiskey.
He took the empty glass, setting it aside once more and then returned to studying the wound. “What would’ve happened?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters.”
“To who?” I laughed hoarsely, and then because I couldn’t bear the silence that was sure to follow, spoke again. “He…he would’ve done something that would’ve ended with his favorite part of him being shoved down his throat. He would’vetried, that is.”
Nyktos twisted his head to the side. A sudden charge of energy hit the air, causing tiny goose bumps to spread along my skin. A burnt smell rose. I looked down to see nothing but ash remained of the cloth he’d held—and a charred mark on the desk.
“Others had to be aware. Your stepsister?” His tone was cold, flat. Thin. “Holland?”
I swallowed the sourness gathering in the back of my throat. “What could any of them do? Holland would’ve been sent away or killed for speaking out—or at least they would’ve tried. He intervened more than once, in ways that he could. And I don’t think Ezra knew the full of extent of Tavius’s behavior.”
“You defend them?”
“Because they deserve to be defended. He was a Prince, and I was—” I cut myself off and squeezed my eyes shut, unsure why I had even told him any of this. It had to be the shock of everything, the adrenaline wearing off, and the exhaustion settling in. Maybe it was because it felt as if there was no reason to hide when he already knew other ugly truths. When I knew how all of this would end. It could’ve just been the damn whiskey.
“You were a Princess.”
“I was never that.”
Nyktos didn’t speak, and I didn’t open my eyes. Several moments passed before he said, “When I didn’t take you as my Consort, I wasn’t giving you your freedom.”
A faint tremor ran through me. It wasn’t a question. It needed no answer.