I remain silent, slowly inching closer to the door. If I canjust get out into the hallway, someone will hear me.
It doesn’t even come to that, for the door opens slowly and a figure clad in dark steps inside. In one swift motion, they grab Pepin, raise him up into the air, and drive him into the nearby wall. The resounding crash vibrates throughout my body.
It is a surreal sight, as if I am watching a scene from a play unfold before me. As if I am detached from whatever is happening. In the dark, I can only see the outline of bodies, Pepin struggling to get free.
“I wonder what your father will think when I tell him I found his heir in his Queen’s bedroom.” I cannot see his face, but I recognize the voice: Ashford. His frame looks huge in comparison to Pepin, and he is holding him with ease, as if carrying a bouquet of flowers. Pepin’s arms are flailing at his side. A second too late, I understand what Pepin is doing. He is trying to reach the candelabra on my dresser.
“Ashford, watch out!” I cry, but Pepin has already swung the golden candelabra and hits Ashford’s temple.
He lets go of Pepin, a motion so sudden that Charles’s son falls to the ground onto his knees.
“Fuck!” Ashford growls but recovers quickly.
He bends down to where Pepin is struggling to get up and lifts him up by his shirt. Ashford raises his left fist and crashes it into Pepin’s face.
I am not a woman of violence, but the resounding crack I hear feels satisfactory to an alarming degree.
Pepin is groaning in pain, clutching his hand to his nose, and I smell the blood before I can see it.
“Leave,” Ashford says evenly and sets Pepin down on his unsteady legs. But before he can turn, my savior pulls theprince close again. He leans in and whispers something into Pepin’s ear. I cannot hear the exact words, but his body is going rigid. Even in the dark, I can see his eyes widening with fear, a choking sound escaping him. Ashford shoves him toward the door, and I watch in awe as the Vranquian heir stumbles over the threshold. In the dimly lit corridor, a dark outline on his trousers becomes visible—he peed himself in fear.
Only my uneven breathing cuts through the dark.
“Thank you,” I say, not even sure if Ashford is still there. With his uncanny ability to appear and disappear, I would not be surprised if he had left already.
“There is no need to thank me, Your Majesty.” His voice sounds unnaturally calm in the dark.
A light is coming down the corridor, Rowan and another guard with candlesticks.
“What happened?” Rowan calls out as he enters the room, finding me pressed against the wall. He shines his candle into my chamber and I gasp when I see Ashford, steadying himself with his hand on the wall, while dabbing at an open wound on his temple. Blood is streaking down his face and throat.
“Quickly, let’s get him to the kitchen. We’re going to need some hot water and towels. And wake the doctor, please,” I say to Rowan.
“No doctor,” Ashford says. “I can clean up and stitch the wound myself. We cannot reveal how I got this injury, so it wouldn’t be wise to involve more people.”
Rowan nods and steps closer to Ashford, handing his candlestick to the other guard. “Alright, but let’s go to the kitchen nevertheless. Here, put your arm around me.”
Ashford groans as he lifts his arm, and when they stepforward, he sways on his feet.
“Here, let me help,” I say and grab his other arm. “Hold on.”
Ashford looks down on me, his eyes as black as night, a strange look on his face.
I break eye contact and gently start guiding him toward the staircase.
We make it to the kitchen without rousing any other guests or servants. While the other guard starts a fire in the stove, I search for clean towels. Rowan is placing candles around the room to take a better look at Ashford’s injury.
“What the fuck happened?” Rowan says yet again and looks at me expectantly.
“I was asleep in my room, but woke when I heard someone enter.” I leave out the fact that something else woke me up, but I can see Ashford watching my face, as if he can sense that I am lying.
“It was Pepin standing at the edge of my bed, he was…ehm …pleasuring himself.” I lower my eyes to the floor, suddenly embarrassed.
Ashford’s body goes rigid, and he looks like he is about to jump up, when Rowan presses him back down onto the bench.
“You’re not going after him. I can’t trust you to be rational.” Rowan’s tone is serious. “I will take Peterson here with me and make sure that Pepin leaves this instant. Will you two be alright in here?”
I nod. “Thank you, Rowan. Thank you both.”
