Page 65 of The Dark Prince
Isadora rolled, so that she hit the hard floor or her side first instead of flat on her back, but a sound of pain escaped her. I sprang up from the couch and ran to the door, terrified I’d change right in front of her. I wanted nothing more than to gather her in my arms and make sure she was alright, but I wasn’t in control of myself anymore.
I had to get away.
I ran down the corridor and fled to my own chambers, leaving her lying there on the floor, bruised and gaping at the empty doorway.
Thirty
ISADORA
Itried not to take it personally.
We’d overcome so much right up until he’d freaked out on me. Was it something to do with the curse?Maybe doing … what we had made it harder to control the beast. That would certainly put a damper in my plans to continually jump his bones.
Eventually, I picked myself up off the floor and cleaned up the fruit just to have something to do with my hands. Everything hurt. Eventually, I got ready for bed. I didn’t know what else to do.
How many other wives had husbands who literally ran from them?
I tried to tell myself to be patient. We’d already come so far in only a small amount of time. He was close to trusting me; I could feel it.
I would just have to keep trying.
And tomorrow we had to convince Bennett that everything was fine.
* * *
I couldn’t sleep at all that night. Bessy let me know Tyr was fine, but had gone straight to his rooms and locked the doors. The tone she’d used told me in no uncertain terms that I was disturbing his rest, even though she admitted it sounded like he was working on repairing the damage from behind closed doors, and that she didn’t think he’d changed.
I was sore all over, but resolved to at least wait until tomorrow to see Arne, if I sought him out at all. I was tough enough that I didn’t need him to mend every scrape and boo-boo.
For now, I laid awake on my silk sheets, unable to close my eyes without thinking about Tyr. Was he in pain? Were the soldiers still here? When Bennett had mentioned others who had turne’, did he mean they’d turned into beasts like Tyr did? Tyr at least seemed to have some sense of control over it, whereas the others.…
Ripped apart were the words used.
I couldn’t sleep. Not with Tyr in obvious distress.
I slipped from my bed and put my boots on. I rarely used the silk slippers anymore; anytime I did, I ended up in a situation where they were wholly inappropriate. I wrapped myself in my thickest cloak, covering my wool underdress trimmed with fur. It was pure white; a wedding gift from Bessy and the other maids.
I crept down the hallway in utter darkness, not wanting to disturb anyone, whether it was Princess Aella or any of the servants. They deserved their rest more than I did. Besides, the way to Tyr’s room was simply a straight path. Surely even I couldn’t mess that up.
I half-expected Tyr’s massive wooden doors to be locked and guarded as usual, but when I reached for the iron handle, I realized it was already ajar. I pushed it open only enough to sneak inside and closed it behind me. I took three steps toward his massive bed and froze.
There was a figure draped on top of him, straddling his waist and moving back and forth.
My blood turned into ice in my veins.
Princess Aella.
My throat closed up, and horror squeezed my chest, making it hard to breathe. For a moment, I thought of simply fleeing back to my own rooms, and leaving my husband and his childhood sweetheart to their pleasure. He hadn’t wanted to marry me, after all. Everything that had happened this afternoon made sudden sense. He didn’t want me; he wanted her, and I had pushed myself on him like some wanton hussy.
Shame stained my cheeks. I put a hand back on the door handle, but paused when Tyr let out a pained moan.
That wasn’t the sound he made when he kissedme.
Scenarios spun and whirled in my head, each more unlikely than the last.I remembered how hard he’d been through his breeches pressed up against me, and how desperately his body shook with the urge to hold me.
And yet he denied it every time, for my safety. He was protecting me.
I let go of the handle.
