Her stepbrother found himself then, his lip curling back from his teeth. “She’s been mine since the day she was dragged into my house, and she’ll be mine long after your queen grows bored of her.” With one final glance at Ciana, he turned on his heel, stalking away with sunken shoulders.
Sebastian watched him until he was all the way across the clearing before whirling and dropping to a knee. His hazel eyes were blown wide, concern and fear and something else writing across his face.
“Ciana. Are you okay?”
Her body still trembled. Words were impossible.
She shook her head, mute.
Isa watched open-mouthed. “I am so sorry, Ciana,” she said softly. “I had no idea—I thought you would enjoy seeing your family?—”
“It’s fine,” Sebastian interrupted stiffly. He was still using that tone, that one Ciana didn’t recognize, but it somehow settled her fear. It was something she could wrap around, nestle against, at this moment when she felt so weak and small.
Isa nodded, glancing nervously around the clearing. It was still unnaturally quiet, too many eyes casting looks in their direction. “Perhaps you should escort her back to your tent. A moment of quiet will do her good.” She surveyed Sebastian. “Have you eaten?”
“I’ll be fine.”
Isa frowned before pushing to her feet. She rummaged in her cart, pulling out a lidded bowl. She scooped a generous portion into it, secured the lid, and handed it to Sebastian.
“You can’t care for her if you don’t care for yourself. And I am sorry. Truly.”
He held Isa’s gaze and nodded. Ciana wrapped her hands around herself as his eyes slid back to her.
“Ciana,” he said softly, “can you walk?”
She had to. She couldn’t be carried out of here; how embarrassing would that be?
He could not be allowed to win. It was a promise she’d made to herself the day she’d left Kasia. No one would ever wield that sort of power over her again.
No matter that he’d just proven he still did.
With a deep inhale, Ciana pushed to her feet. Sebastian rose with her, eyes never leaving her.
It took everything she had left, but Ciana lifted her chin and strode from the clearing, Sebastian guarding her back.
She heldherself together the entire walk. How, she would never know.
Relief slammed into Ciana as their tiny tent came into view. She staggered the last few steps, her limbs trembling despite the lingering desert heat. She was no more than three paces from the entry flap when her legs gave out. She folded down and over herself, Sebastian’s strong and steady arm catching her before her knees met the sandy earth.
“It’s okay. I’ve got you.” He placed his container of stew on the ground and wrapped around her, tucking her close.
Only then did Ciana let herself fall apart.
Her empty, muffled sobs wracked through her frame, all those terrible memories dragging to the surface and washing over her. Her nails bit into the skin of Sebastian’s forearm but he didn’t so much as flinch. He only remained motionless, breaths steady and sure, clutching the back of her head.
A faraway part of her marveled at how she felt so safe with him at that moment. The memories clawing through her were foul—all unwanted touches and vile breaths. Yet she only wanted to bury deeper into him, to hide away from the terrors of the world within the comfort of his embrace.
“Let’s get inside,” Sebastian murmured into her hair.
She nodded against his chest, her sobs fading slightly. She felt drained, but there was still so much welling inside her.
As she pulled back, she became aware of a breeze swirling around them—the breeze buffeted the branches overhead and whipped the canvas of their tent.
But the winds didn’t touch her skin. They’d formed a cyclone around her, a funnel of wind that mirrored the terror and trauma in her soul.
As quickly as she noticed them, the winds died, the rustle of the trees falling abruptly silent. Something in her chest ached, whirling and winding, but stayed contained. Hidden beneath the hollows of her ribs and the pounding beats of her heart.
Sebastian turned to her, a question in his eyes. She retreated before he could ask it. Whatever it was, whatever it all meant, it wasn’t something she was prepared to face tonight.
