Sound of Madness A Dark Royal Romance - Maria Luis Page 0,154

queen, Rowan, and my word is law, but Damien and his brothers knew better than to come to me, or their king, to ask that we pardon him.”

“What are you—”

“I would have said no.” Holding my gaze, she repeats the words that snatch all the oxygen from the room: “I would have said no because, until a month ago, the Priests were faceless people whose lives catered to ensuring that mine continued. All these months and they said nothing about Damien. This morning, I found out about the imprisoned anti-loyalists from Hamish, after they’d already been returned to their families. I’m the queen, and it’ll be over my dead body before I let Holyrood shoulder all the responsibility when I could make a difference with a snap of my fingers.”

It’s a pretty speech, but it doesn’t change one, single fact: “You were wrong to assume that I would ever side with my father over you, that I would toss aside our friendship for a man who brutalized me.”

She fists the metal bed railing, as if needing the support to remain standing. “Sorry isn’t enough,” she breathes, visibly swallowing. “It’s not enough to atone for how I didn’t confide in you about Holyrood and it’s definitely not enough for the way that I didn’t trust you when I absolutely should have. And that . . . those decisions will haunt me, Rowan, and I’ve no right to ask for your forgiveness.”

Before I can respond, the door swings open in a rush, nearly bouncing off the wall as Sara and Dr. Matthews rush inside. Almost in unison, they send a startled glance to Margaret before charging forward like stampeding bulls to shoulder me out of the way.

Picking up the bottle that Hastings sold to me, Dr. Matthews holds it against the light. “Is this it? Saxon said that—”

“There’s enough for two doses,” I cut in, “in case one isn’t enough. The man that I . . . He said that when Damien wakes, he might—” Despise me. Unable to form the words out loud, without taking a dagger to my own heart, I manage a weak smile. “You’ll need to monitor him. The side-effects of the antidote might prove worse than the poison itself.”

“I’ve known him since birth, Miss Carrigan—there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him.”

“Is this yours?”

Turning at the sound of Sara’s voice, I see her holding up the silver chain that Margaret brought with her. “No,” I say with a shake of my head, “it’s—”

“I overheard Saxon mention that it’s Damien’s,” Mags tells me, backing up to the door. “He left it in Oxford, and I thought . . . Well, I thought, maybe, it might be a good luck charm.” She tilts her chin toward the bed, indicating that she means Damien. “Something familiar to have nearby.”

“Margaret—”

“I hope you’ll have the chance to chase him to the ends of the earth, Rowan,” she tells me, her blue eyes bright with grief, “today, tomorrow, forevermore. You deserve nothing less than a man who would sacrifice all of himself so that you can keep all of you.”

48

Damien

Pain stalks me through the darkness.

Muscles spasming, I dig in my heels as my back bows upward—but there’s no relief, no escape, and the nightmare continues on.

I run, and I’m caught.

I hide, and I’m found.

I pray for peace and stumble into only more agony.

Pressure clamps a vice-like grip around my throat. The weight of it, the fucking heat of it. I’m dead. No, I’m dying. Desperate, I seek freedom, hands grasping, body jackknifing. I scrape at flesh, at the unrelenting pressure suffocating me, and feel only more pain when the metallic scent of blood permeates the air, rife under my nose.

“Grafton, help me out over here.”

Fire scorches my veins, and I twist and twist and twist, digging trembling fingers into the ground to avoid being swallowed by the abyss—but the earth beneath me is quicksand. I’m sinking, drifting.

Gone.

Gone.

Gone.

“Fuck! His heart rate is spiking.”

Agony drags me down. Exhaustion slows my pulse to a crawl.

The nightmare traps me, drowns me, owning every piece of my soul until I’m gasping for air and clawing frantically at the heaviness leveraged against my throat. Then softness grazes my skin, and I cling to it with all that I am.

“I’m here and you are not alone.”

That voice.

That strength.

I reach for her, stretching my arms through the oppressive darkness to find her. Rowena! Rowena, love, stay with me. Only, the quicksand gives way and then I’m gone again—the pain, the fire, the