“By then his stitches had torn.”
“Oh my god.” My hands flew to my mouth, and I struggled to reconcile the quick pang of sympathy in my chest. I had no love lost for the creepy asshole who’d attacked me when the guys first told me, but Drake D’Arthur ripping him from his bed while completely weak and defenseless felt like too much.
I let myself feel sorry for him for one second, and then I shut the emotions down. I still wasn’t ready to think about what he’d done. This close to the end, if I paused to think about how crazy it all was, maybe I wouldn’t keep going.
Some might call that a signto pause, but not me.
There was one thing I wanted to know, though.
“Did he survive?” I asked Kingston before glancing up at Landon. “Is he still alive?”
“Yes.”
Dark amber eyes filled with murderous intent met mine.
But they didn’t scare me.
They propelled me. I glanced at Kingston before stepping out of Landon’s hold, walking up to the front door and opening it like I owned the place.
“Then, your father can go fuck himself for all I care. I’m not staying in Camelot Courtyard with one other girl between me and whoever else might come for me.”
They shared a look before returning their gazes to mine.
“Now, please take me to my room.”
Realizing I couldn’t wait for the day when we’d stand there together, unafraid to let Camelot Court know how we felt, I decided I didn’t have to anymore.
After everything they’d done, I’d use the legal case building against them to guarantee I had at least one of my Knights and my King beside me when I slept.
“I have a busy day of Lady Bonding to do tomorrow, and I need my rest.”
With pride shining in his eyes, Landon bowed his head. “As you wish, My Lady.”
“No.” Kingston shook his head, but he didn’t argue with me. “Words have meaning, Landon.”
He met Landon’s eyes before he stepped up beside me and held out his arm. As I looped mine through and stared up at him, he gave me my favorite secret smile.
“That was a request from our Queen.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The next morning, I woke up and dragged myself to the shower, hoping it might lift my spirits before I got my Sunday treat known asBonding Day.
When I got downstairs, I stepped into an alternate universe. The staff had converted Camelot Courtyard into a weird, slightly depressing version of Santa’s workshop.
As Merle had mentioned at our Ladies Dinner, we’d make our pledge paddles today.
Long tables ran along the length of the outdoor space. Set in two rows, each table was covered with a canvas sheet, like the ones we’d painted in ourSublimationsessions.
Spaced a few paces apart, workstations with tools, paint, and—was that glitter?—waited for us to get started.
A pile of wood sat at the far end of the table, and a few Knights manned the miter saws beside it, carving the wood we’d use into the correct shape. One of them met my gaze as soon as I stepped foot on the terracotta stones.
I drew a deep, shaky breath.
After reading his notes on the napkin, I’d wanted to run straight at him, wrap my arms and legs around him, and never let him go.
But with Knights and Ladies milling about and Merle pacing the room like a guard dog, I kept my feet planted on the ground. It wouldn’t help Max if I did what I wanted.
