“Nobody belongs to anyone else,” she cut in, completely disinterested in whatever pathetic drivel he might spout. Those who tried to rule the world didn’t get sympathy; it was a hard and fast rule. “You tried through all possible means to own me, and I objected. It truly is that simple.”
“Is that how you see our time together? Captivity and confinement.”
It truly was a wonder that he could look back with nostalgia on the worst moments of her life. With a sigh, he poured a couple of glasses of wine, and she nearly whispered a prayer to deities she no longer believed in.
I must be quick.
When he turned to set the bottle on the sideboard, she tipped most of the sedative in his glass, some in hers as well. A risk, but if he had her tested it would be suspicious if only he had the drug in his system. The idea of being insensate in his presence was both horrifying and nerve wracking, but she had little choice. Of course, if he didn’t pass out soon enough, she might be glad to be a bit dizzy and numb. With all her heart, she wanted to fight, not submit, but it was too soon. The pieces weren’t in place to take the city, so even if she managed to kill him, she would be overwhelmed by his forces, and then some usurper would snatch power from the vacuum.
No, she had to wait until the resistance was ready to strike, difficult as that was.
“You haven’t answered,” he prompted, offering her the glass of wine.
Rowena had imagined he would’ve had her strapped to a table by now, knives in hand. “I didn’t think I needed to.”
“All my life,” he said in a musing tone. “I lived as my father taught me. Nothing I did ever seemed to be enough to make him proud. To prove my strength, I needed to secure my hold on Golgerra, and then the world. I…tried to live up to his expectations.”
You’re a monster, she thought. And monsters get no pity.
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because there’s nobody else to listen.” With a brooding air, he tipped back a long swallow of the drugged wine.
Rowena followed suit, making it look like she had a deep gulp while taking only a sip. “That much I can do, willingly.”
You might say something I can use.
He stared at her in surprise. “You want to be my confidant?”
“Not really,” she said, knowing he wouldn’t believe any other answer. “But I’d rather listen than be strapped to a table or strung up or—”
“I understand, you prefer the lesser of two evils.” Much to her dismay, he set down the glass. “At least you still fear me. It seems you find some aspect of me impossible to forget. I’ll take satisfaction in that.”
The tyrant moved toward her with renewed purpose. He’s decided to resume the old games. A shudder rolled through her, but then, he stumbled, clutched a side table and turned it over as he pitched forward onto his face. Mustering all her strength, Rowena hauled him to bed so his insensate form wouldn’t be the first thing one of his aides saw, should they rush in with some urgent news. Next she righted the furniture, then she set about searching his chambers, all haste since she didn’t know how long the sedative would last.
While she felt a little woozy herself, she hadn’t downed enough to knock her out. Unfortunately, she didn’t find any crucial battle plans, only shocking casualty reports. The bulk of Tycho’s forces had perished in a pitched battle near Burnt Amber. With growing astonishment, she read the rest of the report.
He barely has enough guards to hold the city, certainly not enough to mount another assault. When Prince Alastor marches on Golgerra, it might be costly, but he can take the city. With the resistance already planning an internal strike—
Yes, we can use this.
Giddy, she found a more recent scouting report. Alastor’s forces are only a week away and moving with purpose. He’s coming to liberate us, as promised. There were numbers included, and it seemed that according to Tycho’s spies, his brother had succeeded in securing alliances with the Animari and Eldritch, making him the de facto ruler of the Golgoth. He needed only challenge his brother to take the throne.
That…could prove problematic.
Rowena bit her lip, then put all the documents exactly as she’d found them and took a seat in the living area. Either Lucan would return to take her below when her time was up, or the tyrant would stagger from his room in a rage.
Hell, she’d rather see Lucan.
No such luck.
It was almost a full day later when Tycho roused. His people must truly be terrified of him, as not a single soul had stepped into his chambers during that time. Rowena had eaten some dried fruit and nuts she found in a cupboard, but she was starving.
“You’re still here,” he said thickly.
“I did not have permission to leave.”
His mouth tightened. She could see wheels starting to turn in his head, and a bright, wicked spark of fury flared in his normally flat gaze. But before he could enact the terrible plan percolating in his head, someone rapped sharply on the door.
“What?” he barked.
“You gave instructions not to be disturbed, but I judged this sufficiently urgent.”
“Enter! And spit it out,” Tycho demanded.
The guard strode into the chamber and saluted, then offered his update. “Your brother’s army has been sighted by our scouts. No more than four days on the march, possibly three if they push. What are your orders?”
With a snarl, Tycho smashed a series of valuable antiques. “Fetch Lucan at once. And get her out of here.” He shot her a tight, hateful smile. “Our reunion must keep, it seems. Wait for me, Rowena. We have unfinished business.”
So we do. And it will end only when you’re dead.
Just before Slay completely lost his mind, Rowena returned.
He did a quick visual inspection, but she didn’t seem to be hurt physically. Her mental state was another matter, and he restrained the urge to drag her into his arms. He had to be careful about how he handled her, excellent practice since he wasn’t great at impulse control.
To his amazement, she broke free from Lucan’s escort and fucking ran to Slay. Even threw herself into his arms, echoing how he’d caught her on their first day together. Back then, he hadn’t understood how major it was to touch her. Now he did, fully cognizant of the hard-won gift of her trust. Slay held her with a gentleness, a tenderness he hadn’t even realized he was capable of, tracing his fingertips ever so lightly down her spine.
He didn’t notice when the guards piked off, lost in the wonder of being close to Ro. She smelled different, new herbs and scented oils lightly edged with the unfamiliar tang of another male. It fucking had to be that bastard, Tycho Vega, and Slay had always wanted to obliterate him. Now he wanted to chew through that asshole’s neck and piss down the bloody hole.
“You okay?” he whispered.
“Better now.” She stunned him by stretching up on tiptoe, pressing a soft kiss to his unresponsive mouth.
“You can do that?”
“We’ve done that before,” she reminded him.
“Yeah, but…” There seemed to be no good way to ask if she had been freshly scarred by her encounter with Vega.
Seeming to read his hesitance, Rowena touched the tip of his nose lightly, and he felt that caress fucking everywhere. His cock immediately straightened, and he tried to shift his hips away so she wouldn’t think he was a total perv. Too late, it seemed, because she grinned with apparent appreciation.