Chapter 10

The dreams had stopped, and Davi finally settled into a comfort at the palace. It was as if his mind was free of some force that had held it hostage for so long. As if it no longer had to fight.

Gone was the sense that there was something he was forgetting. It was replaced by a singular purpose. Get revenge for his years in captivity.

He liked the palace at night. It no longer seemed cold to him. Instead, he felt protected. It was a formidable fortress built to show the strength of Dreach-Dhoun, his father, his kingdom.

He’d grown accustomed to the constant ringing of blades. To the blacksmith shop that always had the fires going for new armor and weapons. His father was building a force the likes of which hadn’t been seen since the days of Trystan the Bold.

It was a tale told to children in Dreach-Dhoun as a warning about what too much magic can do to you. Trystan died. Just the name of the man from legend set him aflame because it was shared by his enemy.

He took the steps two at a time, enjoying the burn as he climbed to the top of the tower. A fierce pride bloomed in his chest as he scanned the horizons. One day, it would all be his. He’d be king.

After a while, he climbed back down and greeted the guards stationed around the palace. They only acknowledged him formally, but it didn’t stop his friendly grin. He wanted someone to talk to him as more than the prince. To stop being so scared of his father. But none of them did. When they sparred with him, they let him win. The last time, he’d thrown his sword across the practice yard and stormed away. The guards behind him muttered about just how like his father he was.

He longed to talk to his cousin. Lorelai didn’t treat him like a broken prince who’d known more years as a prisoner than free. But his father was keeping them apart. He didn’t fully trust Lorelai, but Davi couldn’t figure out why.

Screw it. Before long, he found himself walking towards her rooms. If she was sleeping, he wouldn’t bother her, but his father couldn’t control the one friendship he had, possibly the only one he’d ever had. Did prisoners make friends? He rubbed his jaw, the stubble scratching his fingers.

He needed a shave.

But he kind of liked it. He’d never worn a beard before. As least he didn’t think so. He still didn’t trust all his memories.

Lorelai’s hall was dark except for a single torch along the wall, but the orange flow from the fire seeped out beneath her door. Would she have put it out before going to sleep?

He stopped outside her door and raised his hand to knock, freezing when a loud grunt sounded through the wood.

It was followed by a rhythmic slapping and a grin formed on Davi’s face. Arching a brow, he turned to go, proud of his cousin for taking what she wanted.

Then he heard it. The tiniest whimper of pain. Figuring he imagined it, he waited. A muffled “no” filled the air before Lorelai cried out.

Davi didn’t think twice before twisting the door handle to open it. Locked. “Dammit,” he snapped. He could really have used his magic right then, but it’d been a while since he had been outside, and he was drained.

Scanned the door quickly, he realized there was only one thing he could do. He stepped back and took a running start to slam his shoulder into it. Wood cracked, but it didn’t budge. So he did it again. And again.

An angry “Shove off” came from the room, and pain seared through Davi’s shoulder.

He growled. It was no use.

But he didn’t stop. He started to run at it again, but the door was yanked open, and Davi’s momentum carried him right into the chest of the naked man yelling at him to go away.

“Davi,” Lorelai shrieked, lunging for a robe to cover herself.

The man righted himself again, turning cold eyes on the intruder. Davi didn’t meet his gaze as his eyes darted wildly around the room, his heart slamming against his ribs. A broken chair sat to the side of the rumpled bed and clothes were strewn everywhere, but his eyes landed on his cousin, and the tears streaking down her face. She didn’t bother to wipe them away.

“What’s going on?” he asked, directing the question to her, not the man who was sizing him up.

At least he’d found someone who didn’t care that he was the prince.

“Lorelai and I have an arrangement that’s no business of yours,” he drawled.

“She’s my family, it is my business.” Remembering their conversation in the tavern, Davi pointed to the man. “Is this the guy?”

Lorelai nodded.

Davi finally met the man head on. “My cousin is no whore. She does not trade secrets for her dignity.”

His lip curled up. “Hate to break it to you, prince, but she already has.” He narrowed his eyes. “What’s to keep me from telling the king that his greatest enemy’s blood is on my hands and not his darling niece’s?

“Thom, please.” Lorelai scrambled forward.

He stepped towards her, studying her face. “Slut.” It happened so fast. He raised his hand and backhanded Lorelai. Hard. She twisted to the side and fell back.

Davi lunged. The man had no clothes for Davi to grab on to, so he slammed his shoulders back against the wall before slicing his fist through the air and connecting it to the other man’s jaw. Davi didn’t stop. Anger burst free of him, and he pummeled the man who could bring his cousin down.

Davi took a fist to the eye but spun away before another hit could reach him. The man advanced and Davi was ready.

What he wasn’t ready for was the knife the man swiped from the table. He leaped for Davi, but the prince easily avoided the blade.

The two men stared at each other for a long moment.

“You’re a traitor. Look at you all cozy in Dreach-Dhoun when only months ago, you were enjoying life as a favorite of king Marcus.”

Davi growled. “You’re lying.” He hated Dreach-Sciene. They’d kept him prisoner. How dare this foolish man say otherwise? He didn’t know a thing.

Davi knocked the knife from the man’s grip and flipped it in his own hand. His blood boiled with a desire to gut the man who would dare call him a traitor. Who would take advantage of his cousin? He flicked his eyes to Lorelai for the briefest of moments. He knew what he had to do.

His mouth set in a grim line as he advanced, blocking every jab directed his way. He didn’t like it, but sometimes evil things must be done.

The man pressed up against the wall, fear finally breaking through his cold glare.

He jumped forward to try to take the knife and in one swift jerk of his arm, Davi buried it up to the hilt in the man’s neck. Blood sprayed free, speckling Davi’s skin with the evidence of what he’d done.

Surprised etched across the man’s face as he crumpled to the ground.

Lorelai ran to Davi’s side to watch the final gurgles from the man’s throat and then took Davi’s hand and led him to the wash basin.

“Dav,” she whispered. “Look at me.”

When he did, he hardly saw her. All he saw was the blood on his hands. All he felt was the adrenaline coursing through him.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow he’d hate himself for what he’d done, what he was feeling.

Exhilarated.

Energized.

Powerful.

All he’d known was captivity. Now he was the captor. He had the power.

Lorelai dabbed at his face with a wet cloth. “Thank you.”

He only nodded and rose to his feet.

Guards rushed in followed closely by the king.

“Lorelai,” he barked. “Davion. I heard reports of a commotion.” His all-seeing eyes landed on the dead man.

“Who did this?” he asked.

Lorelai sent Davi a panicked look, but he faced his father. “I did.”

Calis took in Davi’s dour expression, and the blood sprayed across him with calculating slowness. He nodded, a proud smile forming on his lips. “I take it you had a good reason?”

“I did…”

His father held up his hand. “I don’t need to hear the reason. I’m proud of you for taking care of matters.”

Nothing about the man made sense. Davi had killed one of his father’s men, and all he got was a pat on the back.

But when his father spoke again, Davi began to understand.

“You may have more steel in you than I thought, son.”

To Calis Bearne, slitting a man’s throat was a sign of strength. Davi tilted his lips up tentatively. He so desperately wanted to make his father proud. A new rush replaced the one from his actions before as he met his father’s eyes. His father. In each memory that Ramsey brought back to him, there was a longing for home, for family. He’d been alone for so much of his life in a land full of enemies. Taunted and beaten and kept in a cell.

Now he had everything he’d dreamed of, and he was going to do everything he could to keep it.

Because when his father’s pride was directed at him, he was more powerful than any magic could ever make him. He could do anything.

And he would.