“Don’t tell him your name,” I whisper to Lucas as we turn. “And don’t be a dick.”
Lucas grunts in acknowledgment. He’s still got his arm slung around me. And yep, the mate bond must be perfectly functional because the fury on Kel’s face is clear. He storms down the stairs, leaving Perth Quellos scampering behind him. “Who is this?”
It’s on the tip of my tongue: Oh, the injured human Ezryn healed. I’m just sending him home.
But before I can say anything, Lucas straightens. “I don’t know who the fuck you are. I’m Lucas Poussin, and this is my fiancée.”
I swear even Castletree takes a breath. I inhale, and Kel stills. Then all fury explodes. A blizzard thrashes down the hall, hail and snow rising around the Prince of Winter as he storms toward us and snarls, “Get your hands off my mate.”
28
Rosalina
I thought I’d witnessed Keldarion’s wrath before—when Farron attempted to eat me, when Caspian crashed the ball, or even when I dared to enter High Tower. Yet, what I behold now is unlike any of that.
It’s in the unyielding set of his jaw, the controlled gait of his stride. A palpable fury that crackles the surrounding air. A rage so intense that each flake of snow and ice-tipped breeze falls into his command.
Maybe I should be afraid. But it’s like every part of my body wants to run to him.
Lucas springs his hands off me and stumbles to the door, tugging on it. But of course, it doesn’t open for him. “What the fuck, Rosalina?” Terror radiates through his words. “Where are we, you crazy bitch?”
“Kel, wait.” I hold up my hands. “I can explain.”
Keldarion ignores me. Behind us, Perth Quellos watches with a calculating gaze. Another fear bursts to life in my chest. Keldarion usually has complete control over his wolf, and it is a full moon. But what if it breaks free? The last thing we need is that foul vizier seeing the truth of his curse.
“Ez!” I call. “Day! Farron!” I’m going to need their help if I want to stop a murder and Kel’s wolf from breaking free.
In an instant, the three princes rush from the dining hall. Caspian must have left, which is for the best, because it wouldn’t do for Perth to see him either.
Dayton pulls me against his chest, and Farron grabs my trembling hands. Ezryn stands in front of the three of us, surveying the situation, every step charged with dominance.
“I was trying to send Lucas home,” I say, “but the mirror wouldn’t work, and then Kel came down and—”
“Kel,” Ezryn says, “what is going on? This man is my patient, under Rosalina’s request.”
Keldarion only gives the briefest grunt of acknowledgement. He stands over Lucas, who has slunk down, trembling in front of the door. I’ve never seen him like this, cowering like the animals he hunts.
Keldarion’s voice rumbles low and dangerous. “This man has committed an unforgivable crime. Death would be a mercy he does not deserve.”
Lucas looses a string of unintelligible curses. He whips his head back and forth, but I already know there’s no escape for him.
Dayton rubs my shoulders in a comforting gesture. “What’s going on, Blossom?”
Fresh tears spill down my cheeks. Farron takes hold of my face with a tender touch, his eyes full of empathy. “Rosie, we’re here for you. You can tell us anything.”
I shake my head, breaking free of his grip. “You’re going to be so ashamed of me.”
Ezryn turns around at my words, all three of them protectively encircling me. “You have seen our pasts laid bare before you,” Ezryn says, “yet you returned to us.”
Farron holds me with his amber gaze. “There is nothing you could tell us that would have us turn away from you.”
“Nothing,” Dayton agrees.
My fingers tighten around my wrist. “Lucas left many scars on me. But this is the only one that can be seen.”
I raise the sleeve of Keldarion’s tunic, revealing this most wretched scar, the jagged lines of LUCAS written on my skin.
As the three princes stare at my greatest shame, I feel their rage rise like wildfire.
Ezryn reaches for me, holding my arm in his shaking gloved hand. I catch my reflection in the black T of his visor. There is fear in my face, but something emerges between my quivering lips, my watery eyes.
Anger.
At myself for feeling so afraid for so long. At Lucas, for making me feel that way.
They don’t say words, but Dayton pulls me tighter against his chest, and Farron closes in on my other side. Ez turns, still blocking us in.
“Protector of the Realms,” Ezryn’s voice rumbles with a foreboding intensity, evoking the sound of a gathering storm. “I stand with you.”
“I stand with you,” Dayton growls deeply.
Farron takes a deep breath, something flashing in his eyes, but it seems to quell when he gazes upon Keldarion. “I stand with you.”
They will not stop this.
Darkness curls in my chest. Is it Keldarion’s rage?
No.
It’s my own.
“Good,” Keldarion snarls, his grip tightening around the collar of Lucas’s shirt before he flings him across the room. With a sickening thud, Lucas crashes into a pillar adorned with vicious briars, shredding his flesh on the razor-sharp thorns. As he crumples to the ground, his agonized cry fills the chamber. He tries to rise, coughing up blood, but Keldarion gets there first, delivering a swift kick to Lucas’s gut as he rolls on his back.
The other princes still surround me, their bodies radiating with anticipation, content to watch until the Protector of the Realms calls on them.
Keldarion kneels beside Lucas, his white hair falling in disarray. The cords of his muscular arms bulge as he leans forward, resting them on his knees. “Tell me, which hand do you use to hold your knife?”
Lucas’s eyes widen and he mumbles incoherently. Keldarion grabs his wrist, then pushes it back. A horrible snap echoes through the chamber, followed by Lucas’s garbled scream.
“You know what?” Keldarion says plainly. “I’ve decided I don’t care.” He stands, then slams his boot down on Lucas’s other hand with a sharp crunch.
A whine like the keening of a dying animal emits from Lucas as he writhes on the floor. Kel has broken both his hands. Even if he heals, he’ll never hold his gun or his knife the same way.
Keldarion looks down at him in disgust. “You will regret the day you ever laid hands on her.”
He grabs Lucas by his torn shirt and lifts him. The boy I had once considered marrying goes limp as a ragdoll. Keldarion slams him against the pillar. Ice grows and encases him up to the waist. His arms hang at his side, head lulling on his chest.
Kel flexes his fingers, and a jagged knife of ice grows in his hand. “I will not debase the Lady of Castletree’s name by carving it into your wretched flesh. But I’ll carve mine, so you know who brought you to your end.”
Lucas howls, “I’m going to fucking kill you.”
“I won’t stop at your flesh.” Animalistic fury etches its way into Keldarion’s words as he drags the knife along Lucas’s collarbone. “I will peel back your skin, rip apart your muscles, and carve into your very bones.”
A choked sob escapes Lucas’s mouth, stringy strands of red hair sticking to his sweat-laced brow. A wintry numbness crawls up my body as I watch the scene play out.
“But the first cut does not belong to me.” Keldarion lowers the knife and turns to us. “Your blood belongs to my mate, the Lady of Castletree.”
Kel’s gaze turns from fury to reverent as he looks at me, the ice knife outstretched.
Ezryn steps aside, inclining his head. Dayton releases his grip on my shoulder, whispering, “Make him pay.”
“He doesn’t deserve mercy,” Farron says.
I walk toward Keldarion and take the knife in my hands. The chill of it shivers through me and ignites my blood. An absolutely devastating smile crawls across Kel’s face as he looks down at me. “Vengeance is in your hands, my Rose.”