Page 67 of The Rat King
“Is it broken?” he asked, only looking mildly concerned, as he knelt down at my feet. An oily substance was splattered across the black attire he was wearing, which I only now realized was made from thick leather.
“No, I think sprained.” Angry purple bruises were erupting, and swollen tissue engulfed the little bone, which usually jutted out on both sides.
“I take it no more running then?” he asked, and a smug grimace played across his features. He was hurt, and he was going to act this way, like he did to the other women who pushed them away, to me now. My hand went to my stomach. I was going to be sick.
Leaning over, I heaved, but nothing came from my empty stomach. Nighval only watched, disinterested.
When I righted myself as the sensation passed, he asked, “Are you finished?” He stood, assessing the stains on his clothing, and leaned down, holding out a hand to me. I took it and in a swift movement, he yanked me up and over his shoulder like a sack of grain.
“What are you doing?” I asked, and instead of an answer, I received a stinging smack on my ass.
“Shut up,” he said, and must have been working his hands because a moment later, we were standing in the intense late afternoon sun on the steps of Ravsted.
Scarred human faces were everywhere, many who gasped as their sovereign and his queen materialized before their eyes. He didn’t address them as he made for the steps.
“This isn’t how I envisioned this going,” he grumbled as he strode up the stairs, taking them two at a time.
My chest thudded against his back with each step, but I managed to ask, “What exactly did you envision?”
Our subjects sat on the stairs, and on the landing, dipping their bare feet in the two fountains which sat on either side of the main entry to the castle. They were operational now, and I wondered if he had done that for me or if someone on the Council of Warlocks had already been to work on the castle, restoring it while we traveled.
No one made eye contact with me as we passed, but their gaze fixated on him, mouths ajar, and I could only imagine the smug smile he wore. The predator and his prey, hunted, captured, delivered. Even as undignified as I felt, I could still appreciate what a man he was, the pride, strength, and sheer sense of will with which he carried himself.
He didn’t speak until we crossed the threshold and the guards nodded as we entered, one stepping in front of him to clear the way.
Once we made it to a familiar corridor and we were alone, he said, “I thought maybe you would be in a beautiful dress befitting of your station, with a crown on your head. I’d wear mine and we would walk hand in hand up the stairs, announcing to the world that you, my love, were the new queen and my wife.”
“But instead, I’m in a tattered cloak with a damaged ankle and you’re in gore covered battle leathers carrying me over your shoulder like a fresh kill.” I could almost laugh at the irony.
Nighval chuckled, sensing it. “This will make a far better story in the long run, and honestly, I think it is just as effective, if not more. Do you think anyone will question my authority after rumors of our grand entry spread?”
“No,” I said, resigned to my husband’s primal need to be the alpha. To put me in my place after I had wounded him by running. Apparently, some of the animal stayed in them after the curse was lifted, so I’d give him today, but if he thought he could do this regularly, he had another think coming.
He stormed into the room I had occupied when I’d first arrived and dropped me onto the bed. “Your things will be here in a few days when the carriage arrives. Until then, you’ll have to make do.”
“My backpack,” I said, only now remembering I had to abandon it and would probably never see it again.
Nighval groaned. “Don’t tell me you lost it in the Wildwood?”
“It doesn’t matter,” I said, as the ache in my ankle and chest coalesced into an overwhelming sensation of pain and tears burst forth from my eyes. “I’m sorry,” I said, wiping my cheeks with the corner of my cloak.
Nighval gave me a hard look, sat on the bed, and took my ankle in his lap. His hand made signs around it, occasionally touching the swollen tissue with his fingers until the swelling was reduced by half and the purple bruises had become an ugly yellow. The pain was significantly decreased when he stood and walked to the door without turning back.
“Nigh, I’m sorry,” I said, as more tears fell.
He stopped short, but didn’t move to face me. “Don’t bother with an apology. You ran from me, Avery. From me. And it’s worse because you knew what that would do to me.” He spun then and the look on his face, the agony, gutted me. “Do you have any idea how humiliating it was to hear from the witch who had cursed me, my own mother, that my wife was being chased by her wards through her land?”
I shook my head because there was nothing I could say.
“Answer me!” he said.
“I know. It was a mistake. I wanted to see her, but you wouldn’t let me. I needed to—”
“You needed to what? Beg her to send you back?” I flinched as he said the damning words, and his expression showed me he saw the truth of it. He shook his head, the gesture a defeated thing. “A heart for a heart, Avery. If that’s what you wanted, it worked. You win. You fucking shattered mine.”
I jumped up from the bed, tearing off my cloak, rushing over to him. He held his arm out, and a glowing blue wall of his power stopped me from coming any closer. “Nigh,” I begged.
“Don’t call me that. Go to sleep. If I could send you back tonight, I would, but you’re stuck here until my power has regenerated. I’ll want to be at full strength since I’ve never crossed the planes with anyone else, which will probably take a week or two. Tomorrow, we’ll figure out where you can live until then. I need to rule from here, so probably the palace.”
