Scarred (Never After #2)(88)

He leans over me. “I always know.” He grabs me by the arm and pulls me to a stand, wincing from the deep ache blooming across my cheek, no doubt already swelling from where he backhanded me.

I reach down, attempting to lift my skirts and grab a blade, but he grips my hand, squeezing until my bones crunch. “Don’t do something you’ll regret. I’d hate to punish you in front of your lover.”

My heart drops. Tristan.

He pulls me into his front, fingers tracing along my hairline. I turn my head away, gritting my teeth. “Would you like to go see him? He’s being kept comfortable, I assure you.”

“You lie,” I spit, not wanting to believe what I can feel in my stomach is true.

He smirks. “Out of the two of us, I am not the liar here.” I try to flail from his grasp, but he grips my shoulders. “Come tie her hands,” he demands.

My head grows woozy and my movements sluggish as the effects of the laudanum start to grab hold of my psyche, and my breathing stalls, wondering who he’s speaking to. And then my hands are wrenched behind me and cuffed in metal before I can even blink.

Despair works its way through me. This is not supposed to happen.

Michael smiles, releasing me, before putting his arm out and dragging someone into his side. And when he does, my organs scream and curdle, withering as if they poured acid through my insides.

“Hello, milady.”

I clench my jaw, tears of betrayal stinging the back of my lids. “Ophelia.”

“You know,” Michael states. “The best decision I’ve made since your arrival was telling my sweet Ophelia to keep her eyes and ears open.” He glances down at her, tipping up her chin as he presses a kiss to her lips. “You’ve done so well, sweetheart.”

She beams at him, and my stomach folds in on itself because, of course. I should have known. Didn’t I even think of them being at my side, hoping to secure favor with the king?

“You’re a phenomenal actress,” I tell her, hatred brewing deep in my gut.

She grins at me, tipping her head. “Thank you, milady. I learned from the best.”

I smirk, even though the opium is creating a buzzing sort of calm, making me drowsy. I fight it with everything in me, not wanting to give in to the tincture until I’m sure Tristan is safe.

“Although, His Majesty and I,” she continues, her hand rubbing at his chest as she stares up at him. “We’re much better at being discreet than you and the scarred prince. Pity you didn’t pay closer attention.”

I huff out a laugh, because I can’t disagree. Clearly, somewhere, somehow, we went terribly wrong.

“Most nights, I would hide in the darkened corners of the halls, waiting and watching. Usually it was boring. Sometimes, when I would follow you, I’d get a show.” She giggles. “I thought it was going to be so easy to get rid of you when that idiot Claudius slipped his hand up your skirts.”

“That was you I heard?” I gasp out, my heart rate slowing as the drug sloshes through me.

She nods. “But then the scarred prince had to ruin it. Stealing him away and doing God knows what to him.”

My chest cramps. Tristan was there?

“And then it was back to watching. And waiting.” She sighs, and Michael’s hand strokes up and down her arm. “But last night, I saw him storm into your room. Heard you both doing treasonous things.”

Rage circles through me, that she was there, tarnishing our precious moments.

“It was so easy to press my head against your door and listen to the words you spoke.” She smiles. “You really have yourself to thank.”

Stupid. I’m so stupid.

Michael claps his hands together in glee, a smile stretching across his face from ear to ear. “Speaking of my brother, shall we go pay him a visit? I’m sure he’s desperate to make sure you’re okay.”





CHAPTER 50





Tristan





Searing pain spreads from my shoulders and extends through my entire body, the type of which I’ve never felt before. My arms are tied behind my back and slung over a wood beam that’s been placed in the middle of the courtyard. Occasionally, a guard walks over and pulls, forcing my body to rise off the ground by mere inches.

But I won’t give them the satisfaction of screaming.

I was woken in the rudest way. With a cloth full of chloroform and half a dozen guards.

And now they’ve taken to strappado. A form of torture that’s Edward’s personal favorite. It gives him a thrill to watch the agony spread across his victim’s faces as their shoulders become dislocated and their limbs slowly tear from their bodies. Part of me wonders if this is his doing. If he’s finally betrayed me and is seeking his revenge for the just punishment he reaped at my hands.

But he’s nowhere to be found.

It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except for the fear that courses through my insides at the thought of Michael having Sara.

They can kill me. They can torture me for hours and I’ll sacrifice myself gladly, so long as I know she’s safe.

I’m not sure how long has passed, only that the sun has set, the full moon casting an eerie glow, the chilly nighttime air sticking to my clammy, bruised up skin and a bonfire raging only a few feet away.