“Sire?”
Braith’s clear voice tears me from my darkening thoughts. I grab the ointment and slam the drawer closed. “Here. Take this for your wounds. It should help ease the pain and reduce scarring.”
“I can’t accept?—”
“You can and you will.” I force the small tin into her hand.
She watches me, the slightest wrinkle forming between her delicate brows. “Why would you do this for me? You don’t even know me.”
“You matter to her. Which means you matter to me.”
After a few moments, she tucks the tin into her skirt pocket and nods toward Allette. “Has she woken?”
“Briefly.” And she appears to be sleeping soundly for the moment. I draw the light sheet higher, covering her thin shoulders before pressing a kiss to her temple. She doesn’t even stir. “Will you stay with her until I return? There is something I need to do, and I don’t want her waking up alone.”
With a nod, Braith sinks onto the end of the bed.
I stalk over to the balcony, draw the curtains aside to open the double doors, and slip into the cool morning air. Bell and Bilson speak in low tones at the far side of the balcony, silhouetted by the rising sun. Both turn at the same time, their eyes widening when they see me.
I can’t even remember the last time I was awake for the changing of the guard.
Bell throws up his hands, his gray wings flaring as he takes a retreating step toward the balustrade. “I’m officially off duty. He is all yours.”
Groaning, Bilson’s head drops, and his navy-blue wings fall in disappointment. “Don’t tell me you’re going out. It’s half five in the fucking morning.”
Bell lets out a gruff chuckle. “Have fun.”
He takes off toward his tower in the north of the city, where his wife is undoubtedly waiting for him in their bed. What must it be like, having such freedom? To come and go without anyone following you, reporting your every move.
“Sire?” Bilson watches with a furrowed brow, his hands planted on his hips, looking like an angry mother about to give out to her bold child.
“Save your scolding, Bilson. You and I are going to the caverns.” I drop my glamour, and my wings appear at my back. I take off with a singular focus in mind, flying straight down, through the dark clouds and into the murky gray that lives in the world far, far below.
Two guards wait at the servants’ entrance, their eyes closed and heads drooping. Dozy bastards. I kick the iron gate, and they scramble to attention.
“Your Highness,” the younger one with a patch of fuzz over his thin upper lip scoffs. “What’re you?—?”
“Do you think you are in any position to question a prince of the realm?” I clip.
The man has the good sense to look terrified. “N-no, my prince.”
That is what I thought. “Bring me the House Master.”
With a bob of his head, he takes off running toward the caverns, his feet slipping and sliding as he stumbles for the dark entrance.
Bilson’s thick fingers clamp around the pommel of his short sword. “Sire? May I speak with you about something quite urgent?” He nods his chin toward a large boulder a few feet away. Knowing better than to make a scene, I reluctantly follow him.
“What do you want with the House Master?” Bilson asks under his breath, casting a wary glance back toward the remaining guard before turning that serious stare on me.
“He has committed heinous atrocities and must pay for his crimes.”
“If that is true, why isn’t the king handling this?”
“Because I am handling it for him.”
“This is not your place.”
“The hell it isn’t. He beat her.”