Roar (Stormheart #1)(14)

In some ways, he was. But not like this. He would never harm her.

“Why did you move?” he snarled.

She tilted her chin up, swaying on her feet. Her lips were beginning to lose that soft peach color. She said, “The horn. I was distracted. I’m sorry.”

He growled, pacing away, tugging at his hair. He should not have been throwing knives at her in the first place. He had let himself forget for a moment what his purpose here was. Her aggression had been a surprising but welcome new morsel of her personality. He had prodded at the fire in her, treated her like a woman he truly wanted, rather than a woman he had to have at any cost. He was meant to charm her, seduce her, steal away her heart. Just another heart, he had told himself. Like all the others he was so good at collecting. Only hers would not harden into stone or glass or crystal when he claimed it.

She was now surrounded by soldiers, each fretting over her as Cassius wished he could do. “Enough,” she snapped. “It is only my arm.”

As if in demonstration, she pulled the blade free like it was nothing more than a needle. The spread of red was barely discernible on the black uniform she wore, but when blood started dripping onto the dirt beneath her, Cassius rushed forward.

Two soldiers stepped in his way before he could touch her, and she was swept up into the arms of the man she called Taven. As she yelled for the soldier to put her down, Cassius demanded, “Where are you taking her?”

Taven did not answer, merely kept moving away, flanked by half a dozen others.

“He is taking her to the palace physician,” another soldier answered.

“I am going with her.”

The remaining soldiers closed ranks. One of Aurora’s guards from yesterday drew his sword, pointing it at Cassius’s chest, as Taven exited the courtyard with Aurora. Cassius knocked the sword from the guard’s hand with one well-placed hit and within a breath, he turned it back on its owner, pressing it harder than necessary into the vulnerable skin beneath the man’s chin. He could have slaughtered the man in front of him and several others by the time they clumsily pulled their weapons.

Cassius growled, “The next time you hold a blade to me, it will end with you sliced open and your insides spilled at my feet. Now tell me where he’s taking her—to a physician directly or to her room?”

The only response was the training of multiple swords on him. Cassius let out a long string of filthy curses, but not one word moved the soldiers in front of him. His mind was clear enough to see a hopeless battle. He needed to regroup and find another way to make things right with the princess.

“Very well,” he seethed. “I will return to my rooms and inform my family of this accident. I expect to be kept informed of her well-being.”

He threw his stolen sword into the dirt and pushed through the soldiers, unworried about their weapons. They let him go, though they followed him inside the palace until he turned down into the guest wing. As soon as he was alone, he spun and punched the nearest wall. Knuckles split and bleeding, he made his way to his room to collect what coin he had.

He should inform his father. If word reached him before Cassius had a chance to explain, his fury was likely to be unmatched by any rage his father had ever thrown. And he had thrown many. But he had to see her first. With his money purse in his pocket, he set off for the royal wing of the palace.

He did not enter the hallway that led to Aurora’s room, but waited nearby in an alcove behind a statue of a Stormling ancestor for someone to leave. It felt like hours passed before a maid bustled from the hall, head down and hands full of bloodied rags.

He stepped into her path, and she yelped, several wet rags slapping against the stone floor. “Your Highness,” she whispered.

“How is she?”

She hesitated, eyes darting back down the hall. He plucked a gold coin from his pocket and asked again, “How is she?”

The girl bit her lip. When he retrieved a second coin, she snatched them both and began in a hurried whisper. “The wound bled a great amount. But it is beginning to slow. She is awake. Coherent. But fatigued. She is pale.”

“Does she have use of her arm? Can she move her fingers? Bend at the elbow?”

“It pains her, but yes.”

“Who is with her?”

“Her Majesty. The physician. A few maids.”

“No soldiers?”

“No. They left to evaluate the storm. To give Her Majesty as much time as possible with the princess before she must attend her duties.”

“What type of storm is it?”

“Skyfire, Your Highness.”

“And how long until it reaches us?”

“A bell. Maybe more, maybe less.”

“Tell Her Majesty to stay with her daughter. I will see to the storm.”

The girl’s eyes widened and she shook her head. “Oh, I ca—”

“If the queen would like to argue, she can find me at the storm terrace. But we both know she would rather stay here.” Cassius pulled out another coin and offered it to her. “Keep me informed of her condition, and I shall keep these coming. Agreed?”

“Agreed.” She grabbed the coin, bent to pick up her fallen rags, and bustled away.

Cassius weighed the coins left in his purse. He had a feeling it would be quite a bit lighter by the time he had all the information he desired, starting with where exactly the storm terrace was located.