And as a member of the Sentella, he’d been a hero for the working class even though he’d been born to one of the oldest and richest families in existence.
But how could she convince people like Senna and Clarion that he was a different man? Most people hated without cause. Without reason. It was irrational jealousy, and if she knew anything about people like that, it was that they couldn’t be reasoned with.
Their hatred was blind, and all consuming.
Even if Darling did something good, they would twist it to make it seem evil or wrong or self-serving.
Words wouldn’t convince them. Only actions would. And she’d have to move fast to keep the Resistance from building up again and coming after him, night and day. Since she wasn’t there to lead it, she didn’t know who was left. But someone would come forward. They always did. And Senna had told her that she was documenting Darling’s “crimes.” Which meant the Resistance was still there. Still plotting the downfall of the House of Cruel.
Fear for Darling consumed her. How could she protect him from his own people?
And that irony wasn’t lost on her. Here she was, the former leader of the Resistance that had done its best to destroy the Cruel line and all its members, and all she wanted to do was ensure his safety. That he had a long reign.
Her father was most likely rolling in his grave.
But as she traced Darling’s scars, she made a silent vow. No one would ever again hurt him on her watch. Even if he never loved her again, she would die to protect him.
And as that thought finished, a bad feeling came over her. It was just like the one she’d gotten right before her father had died. The one she’d had that last night she’d spent with Kere.
Something evil was coming for them, and it was going to be out for their blood.
11
Four days later
Her thoughts drifting, Zarya idly brushed her hand through the tangles of Darling’s auburn hair. Not long after daybreak, he’d finally fallen asleep with his body between her legs and his head on her stomach. She was exhausted too, but she’d promised him that she wouldn’t sleep while he did.
He was so paranoid about attacks…
Not that she blamed him given his family and personal history—what she’d learned from Maris during a small break yesterday was that Arturo would often have someone storm into Darling’s room at odd hours of the night or early morning to make sure he was alone in his bed. Sometimes they’d allow him to go back to sleep, and others…
They’d cuff his hands behind his back and drag him out of his room for his uncle to beat while in the throes of a drunken rage. Arturo had taken issue with not only Darling’s confessed homosexuality, but also because he looked, moved, and sounded like his father, whom Arturo had always hated. And then there was the small matter that both Darling and his younger brother were a constant reminder that Drux had been able to father sons while Arturo had only daughters.
Something Arturo took out on those daughters as well as his wife—as if it were somehow their fault and not his.
To protect them, Darling had done his best to keep his uncle’s anger directed at him as much as possible. He’d go out of his way to provoke his uncle so that his cousins would be left alone. And true to his nature Darling had considered it a moral imperative to make the man spin out of control as often as possible. He’d admitted to her that he’d been hoping to cause Arturo to have a stroke from the stress of dealing with him.
Only Darling would think of that…
But his incendiary actions had kept Arturo in a perpetual state of fury where Darling was concerned. And Arturo had made it his life’s ambition to take everything out on the nephew who didn’t dare physically retaliate for fear of what would happen to his family if he did.
Because of that, Darling didn’t like to sleep at all. And it was why he’d been wearing explosives on her arrival. Before Maris had brought her here, Darling had walked the palace halls, wrapped in them, refusing to rest until utter exhaustion forced him to it. Since his own guards had been the ones who’d thrown him to his uncle, and had done their own share of abuse to him over the years, he didn’t trust them to protect him now that he was governor.
It disgusted her whenever she thought about it, and the one thing she truly didn’t understand was why Darling had ever fought for the Resistance. Yes, his uncle was a bastard who needed to be put down, but Darling had been attacked even more viciously by the working class such as his guards who resented his royal blood, and who enjoyed having power over an aristo. She really couldn’t understand why he’d want to help them. If any aristo had ever possessed a reason to absolutely hate the pleb class, it was Darling.
Yet he didn’t.