“You’re off your game,” Nisien said, wiping sweat from his brow. He grinned, but his eyes were shrewd when he said, “Isca asked after you.”
My stomach lurched at the sound of her name. “Tell her nothing,” I growled, and lunged before he could reply.
My control vanished with the rising sun on the fourth day. The strain of my intense training had stopped being enough to keep the curse contained. After the second time I nearly broke Nisien’s arm, even he looked at me with hurt and confusion, saying it was best if I trained alone.
He was right. I deserved to be alone.
Because I couldn’t face her, I wrote her a letter. Catrin was happy to deliver it and ensure that Isca would be too busy that morning to see the sanctuary away from me that I’d set up for her. She’d spent her time in Caervorn surrounded by comforting herbs and flowers—I wanted her to have a bit of that here in the castle too, somewhere untouched by me.
Upon learning she’d received it, the knot of worry in my chest loosened for the first time in days. Isca had tucked a sprig of lavender in her hair during lunch that afternoon. I couldn’t stop myself from stealing secretive glances at the token of absolution. Several times while eating, she smiled at me, twisting the knife in my gut each time.
She forgave too easily. Didn’t she understand that I wasn’t a man worth pardoning?
Every hour, the beast’s thrashing and clawing at my restraint grew worse. It couldn’t feed on forgiveness. By the fifth day of self-imposed isolation, the monster’s pacing grew frantic. Its whispers filled my head until even my own thoughts were drowned beneath them. Its pressure built into a crushing force, squeezing my thoughts until they blurred into meaninglessness. The magic crept into my limbs next, readying itself beneath my skin, making my body feel too small to contain it.
I needed a shattering of my humanity, far from anything precious. I needed the wind to scream louder than the voice in my head. Needed to find oblivion amongst my ruins.
And at last, I gave in. I saddled Arth and rode out of the keep in a storm of fury, leaving the castle without telling anyone. The guards wisely didn’t question me—they saw a man who was both more and less than their prince leave the castle. They saw Stormdân returned.
I saw only her face as she left me crouched over in far less pain than I’d deserved.
I rode hard, without a destination and with only one purpose. Arth pounded the ground beneath me, his gait unyielding, steady in contrast to the chaos swirling inside me. I wanted to disappear into the horizon, to outrun the part of me that had backed her against a wall and whispered unasked-for filth into her ear. The part that had enjoyed how close she’d been before I’d pushed her too far.
I hated that part. No… I hated myself.
Fate, both cruel and kind, delivered an invading party of raiders two days’ ride north on our shared border with Larethia. I followed the risingsmoke to find a farmer’s home razed. The attackers had left a scene of unspeakable horror. They’d brutally slaughtered the entire family—mother, father, and two innocent children—and posed them for display.
The mother and the daughter had Isca’s golden hair, braided just so. My beast surged to the surface, eager and wild, seeing thejustifiedrelease vengeance for them might grant it. I could almost hear it whispering, asking for screams, for blood, for the thrill of violence.
I tracked the men down half a day’s ride away and fed the curse everything it desired.
I dropped from Arth’s saddle and let the magic take me. For attacking my brother, for the risks they posed to our alliance with Larethia, forreleasefrom the constant torture of my bloodlust. This was where I could escape the memories, slip the restraints I constantly had to shackle myself with.
Bones shattered in my grip. Magic-enhanced strength tore through their armor like paper. I broke their bodies, and each died unaware that their life was the price of chaining the monster within me.
When it was over, I stood in the middle of the carnage. Blood on my hands, in my mouth, soaking through the seams of my armor. I waited for the expected horror, the icy grip of guilt, the searing shame to hit as blood dripped from my fingertips. My breath came hard and fast, my skin still thrumming with dark magic. But the horror never materialized.
The human part of me wondered how far I had fallen. While the monster purred, satisfied.
For now.
Chapter 33
Isca
On the fifth morning since Emrys had withdrawn into silence, Catrin disappeared for a few hours. I didn’t think much of it until she literally ran down the corridor to overtake me as I walked to my room.
She was breathing hard, freckled cheeks flushed, auburn hair in disarray when she skidded to a stop in front of me. In one hand, she was carrying a letter, in the other, a watering pail. Her emotions were all tangled up. Excitement, fatigue, impatience, and underneath all that, a small thread of worry.
“Catrin, what in all of Avanfell is going on?”
“Sorry I’m a bit late.” Her voice held the slightest hint of a whine. “But you have to open this on the balcony. No other place.” She thrust a letter into my hands.
“What?” I was baffled. What was this sly fox up to?
Catrin said two words. “Prince Emrys.” Then she ushered me, none too softly, across my room like I was a herd animal.
She practically sprinted to the balcony doors and braced herself, waiting for my approach. When I was close, she flung them open with a flourish as grand as any successful street performer. I hesitated, steps slowing, as I worried over Emrys’s condition and the reason for Catrin’s theatrics.
