Chapter 33 - I was seventeen

HADRIAN

The amber liquid swirls in the crystal tumbler as it falls in a stream into my glass. The whiskey smells of oak, honey and bad decisions. I don’t drink a lot when I’m at the border, but when I’m at the palace, my whiskey intake seems to increase significantly. The reminders of the past are always more vicious when I’m back. Unfortunately, my body burns away the alcohol a little too quickly for my liking.

Emma is sitting on the green velvet sofa in my office and I know she is watching me. I take a deep swig and let the whiskey burn a way down my throat. It blunts the edge of my state of mind. It softens the sharp ridge of pain.

“You should thank her” Nero encourages

I grind my teeth. “I know, I’m working up to it.”

“I’m sorry,” Emma says behind me.

I turn around to face her. Emma is fidgeting with her dress. She bites her lip and her brows are furrowed. Her white hair falls around her in a wild disarray.

I frown at her. “For what?”

“The daggers.”

I take a slow sip of my drink. Right. The daggers. The silver daggers that are hidden under the floorboards of the dressing room.

I go to the dressing room and get the box with the two daggers from under the floorboards. I scrunch my nose at the pungent smell coming from the box. I take the box to my office and hide the daggers in the safe.

Emma follows me with her eyes. When I turn my attention back to her she casts her eyes down. I wish she would keep those eyes on me.

She scrunches the fabric of her dress in her fists. “I was angry. I’ve been angry for a long time. I lost people I love and it’s easy to blame you for it.” She says.

I take a step toward her and nod for her to go on. I cannot blame her for being angry. I’ve been angry at the world for a long time too.

“For a short moment, I let myself believe that getting rid of you would be the solution, but I don’t want to be that person. I’m not that person.” She says and lifts her gaze to look at me. Her gray eyes are bottomless and filled with sincerity. Tears brim in them and it hurts to be honest.

“She’s telling the truth.”

“I know,” I mutter.

I take a seat next to her on the sofa. I cannot fight the need to be close to her. I’ve tried, but after today. I don’t think I can do it anymore. I cannot deny these feelings inside me.

I rest my arm over the back of the sofa and her hair tickles my fingers. I wrap a strand of her soft and wild hair around my index finger. Even just touching her hair and breathing in her scent calms down my conflicting emotions. She is watching me and I hold her gaze.

“Thank you for being there today,” I say.

She wasn’t required to be there, like I made her believe. I don’t think my father would have noticed if she wasn’t. It would’ve probably been better if she wasn’t there, but I acted out of selfish panic. I needed her there with me and now I have to admit that truth.

“You don’t have to answer, but can I ask about your scars?” She whispers.

I was expecting her to ask about my scars. I down the rest of my drink and I nod. The memories are not pleasant ones and Emma sees right through me.

“Never mind. It’s none of my business.” She says.

I want her to know. I fill my glass with more whiskey and turn my body to her. I move an inch closer. “I was seventeen. My sister has always been better than me at everything. I know my father wished that she would be his heir.”

I focus on the crystal tumbler instead of the flashbacks in my mind. “I was young and thought that I could prove myself in a tournament during the Blood Moon festival.”

I dispel the humiliating memory and take a swig of my drink.

“I didn’t. I lost and my father was angry for showing that kind of weakness and embarrassing him. He punished me with two hundred silver whips.”

Her eyes widen. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.” She bites her lip and there is something in her eyes that makes me curious.

“Can I see?” She asks.

I’m surprised at her question. She has been very shy thus far. I nod and unbutton my shirt and tie. Her cheeks flush light pink and she pulls her gaze away from me. I wish she would look. I like her eyes on me. I lay my shirt on the back of the sofa and turn my back to her. I used to be ashamed of my scars. The lines are ugly and made me feel weak compared to others, but in the last couple of years, I realized that they made me look strong. Because I survived, where others would’ve died.

“We heal fast, but the scars of silver stay forever.”

Her fingertips trail down various lines and I gulp. Her touch sets my body ablaze and I ball my fists to keep in place. Her fingers trail down my lower back. When she pulls back, I feel the loss of her fingers. I turn around and she is closer now. Her face is only inches from mine. Her other hand plays around with the charm on her necklace and her fingers touch the silver chain.

“This will give you a scar too.”

It’s not a question, but I nod anyway. I’ve gotten used to the smell of silver on her. Her scent has become more prominent since I marked her and with every hour I spend near her.

I reach out for her necklace and touch the chain for a second. I suppress the winch when it burns my skin.

“Why did you do that?” She asks with horror written on her face.

She grabs my hand and the red welts form on my thumb and index finger. Her touch is so soothing and I feel the burns dissolve, leaving behind only a barely visible scar. If she was a werewolf, I would have thought that she was a healer. She calms me down and heals my body when I’m near her.

“I heal faster when I’m with you.”

Her face flushes to a beautiful shade of pink. She bites her bottom lip and they are so full and seem so soft. I have this intense urge to kiss her and feel for myself how soft they are. But I refrain from doing that, that is not something she wants. Just because we have a normal conversation for the first time, doesn’t mean she wants to do more than that.

I move away from her and get up from the sofa to pour myself another drink. I put on my shirt. Nero is whimpering and annoyed. He likes her presence as much as I do, but I have to get myself away from the temptation.

I focus on the scent of honey and oak and the sound of the pouring of whiskey into my glass. I look out of the window into the gardens during the nighttime. Guards wander around the perimeter.

I distract myself with other thoughts and they automatically flash to the rogue. I’ve not seen much of the punishment, because I was too focused on Emma. The depth of her eyes, the warmth of her touch, the sound of her breath and the layers of her scent. I let myself be engulfed in her and for a moment it was only me and her in this world.

“Are you okay?” The sound comes from close behind me and I turn around to face Emma.

My first thought is to dismiss her question, but her honesty makes me want to be honest as well, regardless of how it makes me look.

“I was thinking about the rogue.” I wait for the scoff, the ridicule, the laughter for showing compassion. But it doesn’t come.

“Yeah, me too.”

“He’s a rogue. He attacked me. He deserved his punishment.”

“Maybe, but what was his reason? We all have a reason to fight, right? What was his?”

I stare deep into her eyes. “I don’t know.”