A Cruel Kindness

Chapter 26

Soren

I was shocked I found sleep at all, but somehow, my eyes blinked open at dawn feeling oddly rested.

That was when I noticed the warmth curling down my back, the arm slung over my midriff in a tight grip.

Bellamy’s breath coasted over the base of my neck in soft little washes while her limbs tangled with mine as thoroughly as they could.

I let myself pretend not to notice for a second longer, pretending to still be in a dazed sleep.

That was the only way my heart wouldn’t rip to shreds.

It struck me that we’d woken up together yesterday, that our lives had fallen to shit so fantastically in a few short hours.

I should have listened to my gut. From the second I left Muli the Bond was prattling around in my head anxiously, knowing something was coming before I did.

When I saw the look on Bellamy’s face after she’d spoken to her father, that should have told me everything I needed to know.

Even then, I’d waited until the news fell from her lips to believe it.

The worst part of it all was that her acceptance of the Prince’s offer made me love her more.

I was pretty sure I’d been half in love with her for weeks, and the trip back had only solidified it. Even with the pressure of my family and court nonsense and prying eyes, she’d stood by me the entire time. I’d wanted her to.

She was gracious and kind and knew what was right and this fucking engagement was another example of her commitment to those values.

I couldn’t fault her for it. I couldn’t get mad at her for it.

I just wished it didn’t hurt so fucking much.

The entire ride back to the Bridge, I was haunted by an onslaught of images, each of which made me more and more inclined to steal her away and hope she’d eventually forgive me.

Her marrying that fucking awful Prince.

Her walking down an aisle of wildflowers away from me, rather than towards me.

Her having his child.

The thought of that man touching her made me want to punch him until his face caved in—not that I knew what he looked like.

He was probably some annoyingly handsome prick who’d been pruned and fawned over his entire life. He didn’t get to have my girl.

And yet that seemed to be what was happening.

She would marry him and I would try to stay alive so that she could too.

It was that thought that had me carefully extracting myself from her hold. When she muttered a sleepy sounding plea, nothing more than a groan, I almost lost it.

That was the other fucked up part of this whole thing. If I could distract myself with liquor or women or anything else, I might be able to survive it, but she’d ruined that all for me.

She would own liquor. Whether it was the surprised look on her face when she’d tried Muli whiskey for the first time or the taste of her lips after champagne.

She owned every kiss and beyond that, stealing any hope for something better.

She owned every smile, every laugh, every story told by her perfect mouth.

All but running out of the room to keep from mauling her, I burst outside, hoping the crisp morning air would help me calm down.

Ford was already awake, sitting on the steps with a cup of coffee. The second my foot hit the deck, his arm extended with a second mug in it.

“You’re such a romantic,” I quipped as I sat down next to him.

I saw the edge of his smirk before I looked forward, watching as the morning fog slowly drifted away. “Figured you wouldn’t be able to sleep.”

A bitter laugh was all he was getting in response. Not because I wouldn’t talk to him about it, but because I didn’t think I could talk about it at all.

I sipped my coffee, the building warmth enough to cause me to ask, “Why are you up so early?”

He always was, but this was doubly so. Ford breathed in, so heavy I could hear it over the sounds of the river crashing. “Room was too small.”

Somehow, in all the years I’d known him, that was the most vulnerable thing he’d ever said.

I knew he wouldn’t want me to press, so I asked, “What happened while we were gone?”

“Another camp abandoned. We were supposed to go see it today.”

“Good,” I said, focusing on the fact that I could work off some energy with a ride and if I was lucky, there would be a Muli soldier left behind who I could tie to a tree while we interrogated him. That sounded fun.

I could pretend he was the Prince. Or Elijah. That fucker was equally liable for delivering the message.

It would be a battle not to punch his stupid face when we saw him next.

“Something is coming,” Ford said. His opinion was one to be trusted. He was here in the early days when things were particularly bloody, a series of advances and set backs that left too many people on either side dead or injured.

He was here when things started calming down, turning into the cooler side of war.

“It seems as if the impending nuptials are intended to prevent that.” I couldn’t say whose without wanting to light something on fire.

Ford barely reacted. I assumed Esme told him when she stopped shrieking about his sweatshirt. Sometimes I thought she needled him on purpose, just to get any sort of reaction out of him.

Ford nodded, but he seemed unconvinced. “I’ll believe that when I have a peace treaty in my hands. Dropping defenses too early would be unwise.”

That I agreed with. “If Peter is as quick as we know him to be, there will be a meeting by tonight.”

Ford laughed, but the sound was cut off prematurely by the door opening behind us. I turned before I consider that it could be Bellamy. She was particularly beautiful in the morning, unguarded and honest.

It was Esme. Wearing a sweatshirt that only went down to her upper thigh. I assumed it was Ford’s.

I turned back to face forward. Ford shot up a second later. “I told you not to steal my fucking sweatshirt.”

He must have changed his mind at some point, because his first response was “Alright.”

He sounded genuinely angry, but Esme just said, “You are no fun,” with an annoyed tone. Less than a minute later, she was back outside in a sweatshirt of her own and pranced off to the main house.

She spent more time with Peter than I did, but I wouldn’t fault her for it. My relationship with him was one of mentorship. Theirs was one of protection and secrecy.

My pack dropped down on the ground a second later, with Ford returning from inside. “You have two minutes to get dressed or I’m leaving without you.”

“And where would we be going?” I was more curious about the cause of his sharp tone than the plan, but the question still stood.

“Investigate that town.”

Oh, I would take any opportunity to get the fuck out of here.

Thank God, Bellamy was still asleep. The cot I’d made was comfortable. A good thing, because I didn’t think I could handle lifting her into bed.

Lucky was deeply annoyed that I subjected him to a ride without Clover, but he busied himself trying to bother Shadow.

Whereas Shadow would tolerate Sky—Esme’s steed—and let him nip after her, she was seconds away from snapping at Lucky.

I drew him a little farther away, distracting him with a harsher pace until we reached the abandoned camp.

It wasn’t until we were cresting the boundary into camp, into the lingering smell of burning wood, that I realized where we were.

Ford seemed to realize it at the same time, his skin going pale with suppressed memories.