But first, she needed to relieve herself and eat whatever she could coax Jacob to bring her.
He crouched in front of her, his eyes boring into hers. “So what do you want in exchange for information about next week’s debts? Be very careful what you ask for, Princess. If I don’t like your answer, I’ll just beat the information out of you instead.”
“And then you’d only be proving to Teague that you’re nothing but a blunt instrument.” Her eyes widened as his raised a fist toward her face. “Besides, I don’t want anything that would get you into trouble. I just want a privy bucket and some food.”
And some privacy so she could look over the contract hidden in her chemise. She didn’t kid herself. She wasn’t going to be unshackled from the wall until Teague was ready to kill her. She needed time to think, time to plan, so that when Sebastian returned, she’d have a way for him to help her finish Teague.
There had to be a way to finish Teague.
Jacob held her gaze for a long moment, and her skin ran cold in anticipation of a blow from his fist, but then slowly he said, “I’ll get you your bucket and something to eat. Where’s the list of debts?”
“I’ll tell you as soon as I have the bucket and the food. It would be stupid of me to give away my one bargaining chip before I get what I need in return. And you’ll just whip me if the list isn’t where I say it is, so you have nothing to lose but a little bit of your time.”
He grunted and stood. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Don’t try anything stupid while I’m gone.”
“What could I possibly try?” She rattled the chain against the wall and raised her eyebrow at him.
He coiled the whip back onto the hook at his belt and strode from the cage. As soon as the door shut behind him, Ari snatched the parchment from her chemise, unfolded it with shaking fingers, and began to read.
FORTY-FIVE
THE SUN WAS drifting toward the west when Sebastian reached the edges of Teague’s property. His father was disappearing into the villa, which meant either Teague was already back from the trade summit and was with Ari, or his father had left her alone while he got himself a meal.
Sebastian slowly opened the door to the cage. The princess was alone, standing with her back to him, hunched over something as if she was reading. A plate of mostly eaten toast sat at the edge of her mattress, and a privy bucket was set up in the corner.
Words didn’t exist that could hold the depths of his agony and guilt. He held his body rigidly still, as if exerting that tiny bit of control would somehow stop the chaos that raged within. Panic cut him off from reason. His thoughts were fragmented and distant. All he could see was the light leaving Kora’s body. All he could hear was the frantic thudding of his heart against his rib cage—a thudding that sounded so much like Kora’s body hitting the floor that it made him sick.
He was coming apart at the seams, and there was no remedy. He’d been an island for so long, he no longer knew how to bridge the distance he’d put between himself and others.
He desperately needed Ari to be his bridge.
He must have made a noise, because her head whipped up, and she met his gaze.
“Sebastian, are you all right?” Worry puckered her brows as she quickly folded whatever she’d been reading and stuffed it down the front of her dress.
He wanted to tell her what he’d done. He wanted the painful exorcism of putting the horror into words. But when he opened his mouth, all that came out was “Ari.”
Her eyes widened as he stumbled toward her.
She reached for him as he slid to his knees at the edge of her mattress. Falling to her knees in front of him, she gathered him in her arms and pulled his face against her shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her, fisted his hands in the back of her nightdress, and hung on like she was all that was keeping him from drowning.
“You’re going to be all right. No matter what happened. I promise.” She kept softly repeating the words as he shook. As he tried and failed to put words to what lived inside him. With one hand, she pressed firmly on the center of his back, on the scars that had slowly stripped him of any expectation of ever being loved. With the other, she cradled his head to her shoulder, her lips pressed against his ear as she filled his chaotic thoughts with the steady constant of her voice.
“Ari,” he whispered, and then the words were there, terrible and stark. He told her about the things he’d had to do as Teague’s collector. How he worried that the line between himself and his father was blurring. And then he told her about Kora, and it was all he could do to speak past the awful pressure in his chest. All he could do to find the air to breathe as he let the truth tear its way out of him.
When he’d finished, spent and exhausted, she still held him. Her breathing was steady and calm, a lifeline he grabbed onto with desperate strength, though he still trembled. The warmth of her skin chased the chill from his, and when she spoke again, her lips hovering beside his ear, her words cut through the remaining panic and became a foundation he could stand on without fear.
“I’m sorry you’ve had to be hurt so many times, Sebastian. That’s not fair to you. It makes me want to stand in front of you and fight everybody off, just to give you the space to see that you’re worth so much more than you believe.”
Gently, she lifted his head from her shoulder and framed his face in her hands. “You are nothing like your father. Nothing inside you makes you want to cause pain to others. You have more courage than anyone I’ve ever known. Sometimes having courage means the hardest tasks fall onto your shoulders, and those leave the biggest scars.”
He held her gaze and made himself say, “I don’t know my way back from this.”
Her expression softened. “I do.”
“How?” He breathed the word. Filled it with the pained hope that her words had given him and trusted her to somehow have the answer.
She smiled—the confident, knowing smile he loved best—and said, “Remember what you said to me when you cooked me breakfast and then almost kissed me?”
“What did I say?”
She leaned closer, and it was suddenly hard to steady his breathing. “You said you knew the way to my heart.”
Her eyes warmed when he remained silent.
“Want to know a secret?” she asked, and he did. He really, really did.
“Yes,” he whispered as her lips hovered above his, a mere breath away.
“I know the way to your heart too. I know your silences and your smiles. I understand you when you’re still, and I hear the things you don’t know how to say. You aren’t facing any of this alone, Sebastian.” She slid her hands into his hair, and all he could think about was the way she smelled like buttered toast, and things waiting to be discovered, and home.
He tilted his head back to look into her eyes. “I shouldn’t say this to you.”
“Oh, you definitely should.”