Page 63 of The Dark Prince
I nodded and tugged Tyr out of the entrance hall and up to my quarters.
Twenty Nine
TYR
Ididn’t know why Aella suddenly felt an altruistic need to be helpful for once, but I was so grateful that I didn’t protest as Isadora led me away from the hall and back to her rooms.
In my head, Bennett’s words echoed. Darius and Gideon.Ripped apart.
Darius had taught me how to hold a sword; how to defend myself and move like a warrior. Gideon had been near my age, but a little older. He’d been the older brother I’d always looked up to but never actually had. He taught me how to ride a horse.
Both of them had turned into beasts and killed innocents.
Because of me.
I didn’t remember the trip up to Isadora’s room, but suddenly she was pushing me down onto a small couch. She was wringing her hands and calling out orders, but I didn’t hear them or see them. All I saw were the faces of my friends and mentors, joining the funeral pyre of the late queen.
Joining my mother.
Mymother.
I closed my eyes, allowing myself to think about her freely for the first time in decades. My father told me she’d died when I was three, so I only had the barest memories of her. I remember long hair, dark like mine. I remembered the smell of lilies and cinnamon, and I remembered how she cried a lot.
The line of dead bodies that laid before me was overwhelming.
“Tyr.Tyr.”
Light hands cupped my face, removing my mask. I jerked as the cold air hit my scars, instantly defensive.
“No, none of that. Eat a grape.”
A finger pushed a grape into my mouth and I coughed, my dark musings interrupted. I chewed as the juice exploded in my mouth, swallowing quickly.
“Another?”
Isadora hunched over me, another grape in her fingers. Perturbed by the sight of my bruised and injured wife on her knees, I scooped her up and dumped her in my lap.
“I will call Arne to heal you. It looks awful,” I rasped out, feeling as though something heavy were sitting on my chest. In all this turmoil, I’d practically forgotten that the witch had broken our unspoken truce and attacked my wife in our own home.
Isadora smacked my chest lightly, tossing the grape into her own mouth. “You’ll do no such thing,” she rasped slightly. “The man is exhausted. I can wait until he’s feeling up to it.”
I huffed, but she was probably right. Arne would work himself to the bone if allowed. He was a lot like me in that. And if I didn’t let him rest, his wife would hunt me down. I wasn’t wary of many people, but Arne’s wife was a formidable woman.
I shot a glance at Isadora. Perhaps I had a thing for formidable women.
“I wish to ask you about the witch,” I began before I lost my nerve. “But I understand if you don’t wish to talk about it.”
I eyed her nervously, not sure if she would break down in tears at the mere reminder of the attack.
To my surprise, her eyes flashed, and she pushed up, her hands on her waist. “I’m sorry. I should have told you about it all earlier. I was hoping I had killed her, broken the curse, and it all would have been a moot point.”
I stared at her. “Killed her? What—”
“In the woods. I stabbed the witch through the heart with her own dagger.” Isadora frowned. “Obviously, it did not kill her. Stupid of her to give me a weapon like that, but I supposed she never imagined a wisp of a thing like me would turn it on her. Too proud, that one.”
I stiffened. Surely, I’d misheard her. She had stabbed the witch? My cock twitched just thinking about it, fantasizing about my little warrior of a wife covered in the witch’s blood, standing over her limp body victoriously. No one had ever stood up for me before in my life. I didn’t give Isadora enough credit. Perhaps I should stop trying to push her away. Maybe together we could break the curse. Hope flooded my chest for a moment.
Wait a minute.
