Returning to staring at the glass, I nodded. “Yeah. Anyway, I used the dagger the first time he was alone. I cut off his head with it.” I thought of the dress. He’d called it a gift. “I think he was coming down to take me…” Holy crap, something occurred to me, and my chin jerked up. “I think he was coming down to take me to you. That’s why he put me in that dress.”
Caden’s jaw tightened.
“He was going to release me and take me out of the chamber. I could’ve killed him then, and I would’ve had a chance to escape.” My eyes widened. “Then I…I wouldn’t have been in there.”
“You had no idea what he was planning. You did what you thought was best at the time,” Caden told me. “You did nothing wrong.”
I’m not glad she did.
The King had said that in response to Ivy saying that she was glad I’d killed Aric. “You said you weren’t happy that I killed him.”
“You heard that?” When I nodded, a faint smile appeared and then disappeared. “Besides the fact that I wanted the absolute pleasure of tearing him apart myself, I rather you had never been in the position to do that. That’s why I am not glad that you did.”
“Oh,” I repeated for the umpteenth time. “Well, he suffered. A lot.” A real smile graced my lips then, the kind that probably would concern therapists across the nation. “Cutting off someone’s head isn’t exactly easy.”
One corner of his lips curved up. “But you did it.”
“I did. I had to.” The smile faded from my lips, and the next breath I took felt harsh. “It’s the only thing I had to do. He is—he was…” Trailing off, I shook my head. “He was evil.”
“I know he was.”
The way he said that tugged a memory loose, an image of Aric’s taunting smile and something about… Whatever was there slipped outside my reach. Exhaling loudly, I looked over at Caden.
He had sat back, his hands resting on the arms of the chair. He made the simple seat look like a throne. “What did he do to you?”
The question was a loaded one—one I wasn’t sure I could even answer. My brow knotted.
“You don’t have to answer that. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“He did whatever he could,” I whispered, the glass trembling as more memories wiggled free. “When I didn’t cave or when I…I didn’t scream, he made sure I did. He took his time. The cuts…he did it for hours. I don’t know. He…wanted to make sure I knew he was…in control—when I slept, when I was awake, when I…when I ate or drank.”
“He did something with the food and drink?” Caden asked.
Looking over at him, I saw that his hands had curled around the arms of the chair. “He didn’t…” I twisted, ignoring the dull flare of pain along my ribs as I placed the glass on the nightstand. “He didn’t make eating easy. I’d be…”
“What?” His voice had softened. His knuckles had started to bleach white.
“I never knew how you could desire something so much and dread it at the same time.” Without realizing what I was doing until I did it, I lifted my fingers to my lip, feeling the swollen skin there for the first time. “I’d be so hungry because I didn’t get a lot of…food, but I…I hated eating.”
“Brighton.” His voice was still so soft, but it had a rough quality to it that I didn’t want to hear.
I worked my neck to the side, lowering my hand to my lap. “He just did a lot.
“Did he…?” Caden’s shoulders tensed as if he were bracing himself. “The healer said you had bruising in areas that concerned her. That there may have been other assaults that happened. Ones that she could not see.”
I knew what he was asking, and my breath hitched in my throat. Our gazes connected for the briefest of seconds, and I couldn’t hold his stare. Instead, I found myself inspecting the bandage on my arm. “I don’t… I don’t think so,” I said, picking at the edge. “I mean, I don’t remember him doing something like that. Not even when I bathed or—”
Cold lips against mine. Frigid hands. An image flashed in my mind of Aric kneeling in front of me while I was in the tub. His hand under the water, his icy fingers—
Squeezing my eyes shut, I held myself perfectly still. I remembered that. I’d been glamoured, and he’d touched me as he talked, as he told me—
“You don’t have to think about it,” Caden said, drawing me from the disjointed images. “You don’t have to remember right now.”
“What if I remember later?” I whispered.
“Then we’ll deal with it then.”
We? My gaze darted to him. His expression was stark and…violent. A shiver danced over my skin. He’d let go of the chair and had scooted forward on the seat. The arms of the chair looked strange. Was the wood…dented? For some reason, the dress appeared in my mind, the one Aric had me wear. There was a distinct feeling that there was something incredibly important about it—something I needed to tell Caden, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t figure it out.
Thinking was hard.
Leaning back against the cushions, I closed my eyes. What if I didn’t remember? What if I did? I wasn’t sure which was worse, to be honest.
I realized in the silence that I hadn’t thanked Caden, and I had no idea if I’d thanked Ivy when she was up here. “Thank you,” I said.
“For what?” He sounded genuinely confused.
“For…for looking for me. For finding me,” I said, fighting the hollowness that was building in my chest. The grief of thinking that no one was coming for me still lingered. “I would’ve died there if you hadn’t found me.”
“You never have to thank me for that, Brighton. Ever.”
“Well, I just did.”
A sound of frustration rose from him, and for some reason, it made my lips twitch. “I wish you never had to doubt that I would come for you.”
“Caden—”
“I wish for you that you never had to spend a moment thinking that no one was coming for you.” His voice was low, urgent. “That you were never put in the position to feel as if you were not wanted or cherished or loved enough that people would not come for you.”
In the back of my throat, a burning knot formed. I couldn’t hear this now. I didn’t think I could hear it at all. It made me want to cry. It made me want to ask why he was saying these things. It made me want to believe that it wasn’t the guilt and regret I saw in his expression that made him say them.
“Before I forget to tell you, I think you have a new fan club among the Summer Court,” he said, shifting the conversation. It was obvious that he’d picked up on my discomfort with his super special fae senses, but at that moment, I appreciated it. “Perhaps even rivaling Tink.”
That sounded unlikely and surprising because I faintly recalled being treated like I carried a contagious disease. “Why?”
“They learned that you killed Aric. In their eyes, that makes you a bit of a savior.”
“Ah.” I opened my eyes. “It’s not over, though. Right? Neal’s still out there. Younglings could still be taken.”