Rolling my eyes, I buried my face in the fabric of Lukas’s shirt. There was no point in arguing with delusion. Thankfully, for once, Arenn didn’t try to follow us as Lukas carried me away from the desk. The only sign he was even still there was the crashing of books and frustrated roars as Lukas carried me out of the palace library.
CHAPTER 23
When we arrived back in my bedchamber, Lukas placed me down on my shell bed so gently, it was as if he’d worry I’d break. Though my bones felt close to it. Each breath felt like a thousand horses trampling over my chest.
“There’s a poultice in a silver tin inside that wooden box over there.” I pointed weakly to a chest in the corner of my room. “Can you bring that along with a hand mirror so I can apply it?”
“Let me do it for you,” Lukas said, returning to the bed with a small silver tin. “It’s the least I can do after…” His jaw clamped shut when he caught sight of me again. His reactionmade my stomach twist, and I couldn’t help the crimson stain on my cheeks.
Not that anyone would be able to see it through the bruises.
“Do I look that awful?” I asked nervously.
“No. Of course not. You’re beautiful.” The words shot out faster than arrows. “It’s just that…” He scrubbed a palm over his face, sighing. “I did this to you, Naria.Ihurt you. I’ll never stop feeling that guilt.”
“You didn’t hurt me.” Gently, I took his hand before pointing to the crystals on my wrist. “These did.” I glared at them. “These and whatever foul trick Arenn was playing in the library. He wanted you to hurt me because he knew that it would hurt you.” That was obvious to me now. And I was certain Lukas would’ve seen it too, had he not been so blinded by anger.
“Still,” Lukas exhaled, popping the lid of the tin, “I’ll never be able to say sorry enough.” Pain ravaged his features while he scooped up a generous amount of the paste. I wanted to keep telling him it was fine, that I knew he’d never mean to hurt me. But my jaw ached too much to keep talking.
That was until a little thought popped into my head.
“Well, there is one way you could make it up to me?”
Lukas blinked at me expectantly.
“Take me back to the merfolk kingdo—”
“No.” He lowered his hand. “Absolutely not. We’ve been through this.”
“But Prince Raphael is dying.” I ignored the burn as I twisted my whole body to face him. “If we go back to the merfolk we can find out more about his condition. Theremight be a cure.”
“Naria, I won’t tell you again,” he warned.
“Then let me go alone.” My suggestion made him pale. “All you have to do is call for your cousin and she can help me.”
“I said no,” he sighed, exasperated. “I will not let you put yourself at risk by visiting there again. It was a mistake to even bring you with me to the cave, but it was the only place I could think of thathewouldn’t be able to find us. Damn it, Naria, I—” Shaking his head, he straightened. “I should’ve never exposed you to that world. The merfolk arenotgood people. They’re just like the fae.” His face soured. “Barely even people at all.”
Defeated, I let my body sag against the pillows. ‘Just like the fae’. His words were so cold, so full of hate. I supposed I could understand part of it. Queen Vearla did have some questionable morals when it came to handsome sailors. And there was definitely something wrong with Adriana. Even so, I couldn’t help the nagging feeling in my chest. A tiny voice screamed over and over again that maybe, the hatred in his words didn’t belong entirely to him.
“Why do you hate them so much?” I asked quietly. “The merfolk?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” he scoffed.
Frowning, I shook my head. “Unless someone told you before we visited about how your aunt traps sailors, or unless there’s some other evil thing they do that I was never taught in school, you should have no reason to dislike them as much as you do.” Even Ikelos, with all his faults, clearly never disliked the merfolk this much. He did marry one, after all—
Gasping softly, I paused. “This is all about your mother,isn’t it?” I blurted, as the quiver in his jaw gave him away. “That’s why you were crying on the balcony. They remind you of her?”
“They most certainly do not,” he tried to say, but it came out as more of a strained laugh. The pain on his face made my chest ache even more than my bruises.
“Will you tell me about her?” I asked gently.
When he didn’t reply, I leaned forward to take his hand. “You don’t have to share anything with me, but it might help me understand. And if I understand, I can help you.”
His stormy gaze flicked up to me. Heartbeats of silence passed between us, and I was moments away from dropping his hand to forget all this and make us some tea when he finally spoke in a dry voice. “I loved her.”
My eyebrows lifted.
“Even after everything she did to me, I still loved her,” he continued, his eyes turning glassy. “Of course, it was easier to forgive her outbursts when everyone around me insisted she was just sick… that she’d ‘get better’ one day and go back to being how a mother, how a queen, should be.” He tensed his jaw. “Or at least her illness would settle enough to spare an ounce of affection to her husband and only son. Though I stopped believing that lie on the day of my tenth birthday,” the emotion in his voice faded, “when she told me that if I began to look any more like my father, she would slit my throat while I slept.”
