Sound of Madness A Dark Royal Romance - Maria Luis Page 0,26
defenseless and completely at my mercy.
I want to make her beg.
But those aren’t the words that crawl from my chest and emerge gruffly: “I’m here.”
“Then aren’t you going to answer my—”
“I see a woman with secrets,” I tell her, keeping my voice low, “a woman who almost took those secrets with her to the grave.” I step backward, toward the door. “But what you don’t see is a man who’s honor bound to tear each of those secrets from your soul. So, I’ll be back for you tomorrow, Rowena, and when I do, there won’t be any more games.”
“You’re leaving?” Something that looks like panic flickers across her face. “Godwin, think this through. I’m not—I’m not a traitor. Whatever you think that I know, I promise you that I don’t.”
Except that she does. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“What the hell am I supposed to do until then?”
I look back at her, at those unseeing violet eyes that are locked on a spot two paces away. And then, grabbing hold of the vengeance in my heart, I utter only one word:
“Pray.”
10
Rowena
I don’t pray.
But when the door cracks open early the next morning, and that maddeningly arrogant stride enters the room Dr. Matthews left me in, late last night, I wish that I took his advice to drop to my knees and get on with it.
Another round with Godwin will end in murder—whose is still up for debate.
Ignoring his heavy footfalls, I stand vigilantly by the glass-paned window, my fingers resting on the sill. One deep breath in, for fortitude, and then I expel the wretched truth: “When I was a girl, my father left me to die.”
Godwin pauses.
There’s no change in his breathing and not a single word falls from his lips, but he stops in his tracks—I know it deep in my soul.
Just like I know that I’ve captured his attention.
“We had a summer house in Golspie, this tiny village in the Highlands where nothing ever happens. But somehow . . . somehow Golspie felt more like home than London ever did. Or does, even now.” I graze my forefinger over the textured wood of the windowsill. “Margaret and I met when we were eight. My father introduced us. Brought me right over to Dunrobin Castle, just a mile up the road, and told me that Mags needed a friend.” I pause, curling my fingers into a loose fist before pressing them flat once more. Over my shoulder, I ask, “Did you know that when she was first sent to Scotland, they tried to pass her off as the Duke of Sutherland’s niece?”
Silence fills the room, and then his voice comes, deep and raspy: “I didn’t.”
A small, bitter laugh pushes its way past my lips. “She blurted out the truth less than twenty-four hours later. Queen or not, Margaret is a good person. Honest to a fault. Unwaveringly loyal. And, even then, when she was just a princess hidden away in the Highlands, she knew that I needed her friendship more than she ever needed mine.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because you’re the hero, aren’t you?”
This time, there’s no mistaking the aggravated sound that rumbles deep in his chest.
Victory thrums in my veins.
All night I planned for this moment. Strategized until I could barely keep my unseeing eyes open and I crashed, face down, on the soft bed I found tucked against one wall. As much as I want to battle Godwin with rancor and wit, those tactics won’t work. The man fights strength with brutality and hate with malice. But yesterday, when I’d been unable to keep my walls upright, he’d softened. For a heartbeat. Maybe even less than that.
It was enough.
Enough for me to see that to attack, I have to break.
“Because,” I continue, turning away from the window, “you clearly think that I’m here to stab Margaret in the back. If proving you wrong means opening Pandora’s box, then I’ll do it.” Against my better judgment, I step forward. One foot. One risk. A shudder of relief rolls down my spine when my leg doesn’t buckle. “I was thirteen when our cottage caught fire. Faulty electrical wiring, we were told—but faulty wires don’t erase the memory of a bedroom door being bolted shut or my mum’s screams from down the hall or the fear that gripped me when I ran to the window and saw my father on the front lawn.”
I wish I could look Godwin dead in the eye and read his expression.