“Rhydian avenged me. Quite brutally.”
Jack’s eyes widen.
“The man who made me a rhocyn… didn’t live for long, and his death was horrific.”
Jack runs his hand over his face and then through his hair. He lets out a heavy sigh.
“He is still an arse.”
A wry snort of amusement escapes me.
“No, I mean it. I don’t care if he’s the Crown Prince or the bloody King of the Universe. He failed you. And I will never, ever fail you like that.”
The promise hangs in the air between us, fierce and sincere and absolutely terrifying. Because I want to believe him. I want to believe that this large, gentle man will keep his word, will stand between me and harm, will choose me over duty or politics or self-preservation.
But wanting something doesn’t make it true. And the last time I hoped someone would protect me...
The memory rises unbidden. Large hands, cruel laughter, the feeling of being completely powerless while someone much stronger than me took what they wanted. The burning shame. The way Rhydian had looked rightthrough me afterward, as if what happened was simply the natural order of things.
I must make some sound, because suddenly Jack is there, kneeling beside my chair with worry written all over his face.
“Hey,” he says gently. “Where did you go?”
I blink, realising I’ve been gripping the arms of the chair hard enough to leave marks. “Nowhere. I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Close enough. The ghosts of my past have a tendency to surface at the most inconvenient moments.
“Just... memories,” I admit reluctantly. “Sometimes they sneak up on me.”
I can’t believe I am confessing this. What has come over me? Why does Jack affect me like this? I’ve worked hard at always being composed. Cold, aloof and mocking. I have a reputation to uphold, and at this rate it is going to be in tatters.
Jack’s expression grows impossibly tender. “Bad memories?”
“The worst.” I hear myself say.
Jack reaches for my hands, pausing to ask permission with a look. I nod, and he gently pries them away from the chair arms. His touch is warm, careful, and completely non-threatening. Everything that other touch from my unwanted memories was not.
“You’re safe now,” he says quietly. “I know that probably sounds hollow, given everything that’s happened to you. But you’re safe with me. I promise.”
I want to believe him. Goddess, how I want to believe him. But promises are a game to wriggle out of for fey.And simply words to humans, and words are easy to break when something more important comes along.
“Jack,” I start, but he cuts me off.
“I saw how you looked today when Jamie hugged you. Like you weren’t sure if you were allowed to enjoy it. And the way you flinched when Rhydian moved too quickly. You’re still expecting someone to hurt you.”
The observation is far too perceptive for comfort. “I’m fine.”
He is making me sound weak. Like some sad creature to be pitied. I don’t like it, but I know he means well.
“You’re not fine. And that’s not your fault.” Jack’s thumbs stroke gently across my knuckles. “Whatever happened to you, whoever did it, it wasn’t because you deserved it. You know that, right?”
Do I? Sometimes I’m not sure. The logical part of my mind understands that what happened was a function of politics and power, not a personal failing. But logic and emotion are different beasts, and my emotions have been shaped by a lifetime of being told I was lucky to receive whatever scraps of attention came my way.
“I’m working on it,” I say finally.
“Good. That’s all anyone can do.” Jack’s smile is soft, understanding. “And in the meantime, I’ll just have to prove to you that not all large men are threats.”
