Henrik sucked in a sharp breath.
Vaeris.
A memory burst open—Vaeris bending me over a bed, my skirts torn. His mouth against my neck. My moans, my gasping pleas, the fevered arch of my hips as I begged him to go faster.
Stop!
Henrik watched, drinking in the sounds I’d made. My desperate movements. The most private moment of my life, laid bare for him to judge.
Henrik chuckled. “I should’ve known.”
The hazy gold of the memory dissolved into the gray of the Arcanum as Henrik lifted his palm.
I gasped, slumping against the restraints.
Henrik exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “At least this explains why the prince looked ready to murder me at dinner.”
I kept my eyes down, unable to meet his gaze. Shame bit into my cheeks. He’d seen how completely I’d given myself to someone who’d thrown me away.
Henrik leaned forward. “How long have you been fucking him? Is he aware of your nature?”
I pressed my lips together to keep them from quivering.
His eyes narrowed. “He knows, doesn’t he?”
“You’re—you’re making a mistake. He’ll come looking for me.”
Henrik laughed. “Will he?”
“He’s already angry with you. When he realizes I’m missing, he’ll connect it to you. And when he does…you know what happens to lords who cross the royals.”
Henrik smirked. “You think I’m stupid enough to make an enemy of the Crown? No, this is an opportunity.”
A bead of sweat rolled down my cheek.
“I’ll present you to the king as the abomination you are. The prince, devastated by your betrayal, has no choice but to let justice take its course. Unless…” He paused. “I could convince the High Cleric that you’re too valuable to kill.”
I squirmed in my restraints, my heart thrashing.
“He gets his toy back, properly leashed this time. I get the prince’s eternal gratitude. You’ll live as property of the Crown. Collared, watched, used at their whim.”
“No,” I gasped. “He wouldn’t do that to me.”
“I’ve served the royal family for two hundred years. I know exactly what a prince will sacrifice to keep his position.”
Grief swelled in my heart.
He was right, wasn’t he? Vaeris had kept me hidden, visited only in shadows, never once acknowledged what we were in public.
The door opened. Two Runecloaks entered.
“The High Cleric is asking to see you, my lord,” one said.
Henrik nodded. “Escort her to the palace dungeons.”
The Runecloaks moved toward me. The leaner male produced a knife and cut through the ropes binding my ankles, then my wrists. Blood rushed into my hands, pinsand needles shooting up my arms. The Runecloak grabbed me and hauled me upright.
A crushing weight settled over my chest as we headed out. That desperate, pathetic part of me that had been hoping for Vaeris to rescue me finally went quiet.
