Sound of Madness A Dark Royal Romance - Maria Luis Page 0,153

on her shoulder and roll her stool away from Damien, my broken body acting as a barrier between my oldest friend and the man who’s stolen my heart. “Because you’re my best—”

“I’m the coward!”

“I—” Surprise snaps my chin back. “What?”

As if the weight of the world sits heavy on her shoulders, she rises to her feet with a push of her palms against her thighs. Briefly, her fingers graze her abdomen, and I don’t miss the grimace that flickers across her face. Then she dips those same fingers into the front pocket of her jumper to pull out a chain, the silver metal glinting under the florescent lighting a second before she clamps the necklace in a tight fist.

“I learned a very long time ago,” she tells me softly, “that while half of Britain would see me swaddled in bubble-wrap, the other wants me dead for no other reason than that I come from a family born to take the throne.” Still clutching the necklace, her gaze skips past me to Damien. “The Godwins are the worst of them all. They’d isolate me forever, if they could. They’d rip me from society and burrow me back in the Highlands if they thought doing so would keep me alive.”

“They took an oath.”

“Rowan, I forgot that they’re human.”

As if she’s socked me right in the gut, my palm goes to my stomach. The muscles clench beneath my touch but I feel nothing of the pain that I did on the night of the fire. Now, there’s only a pervading sense of awareness that I’m looking at a woman whom I thought I knew after years of standing by her side . . . only to realize that I may not know her at all.

“All my life,” she goes on, moving to the foot of the bed, “it was made very clear that Holyrood would forever bend the knee. They obey, they submit. And, somehow over the years, they became faceless subjects whose only duty is to follow our every rule.” Blue eyes flick toward me, and in them, I see only strands of guilt. No, not guilt, but something intrinsically more damaging. It’s shame, I realize with a jolt, as she curls her shoulders forward and returns her attention to Damien. “They’ve died in my father’s name, in mine. Clarke, he—”

Hoarsely, I interject, “He was doing his job.”

“He had a family. They all have families. And yet, because of a fluke in genetics and parentage, my life somehow means more than theirs.”

“You’re the queen.”

“And when the monarchy comes crumbling down?” she asks, her tone hardening. “Who am I then?”

“It’s not going to—”

“Tell me why he’s like this.”

Damien.

Her stare never leaves his ashen face, not even to take note of the myriad IVs connecting his body to the equipment lined up along the far side of the bed. The monitor beeps behind me and, unable to wait any longer, I lean over to press the button to the right of his head, to alert Sara that we’ve returned. It glows momentarily before fading again to a dull forest green.

Needing to occupy my hands, I straighten the thin sheet that’s been pulled up to his waist. “He needed the bounty off his head. It went . . .” Stiffening my jaw against emotion, I expel the awful truth: “We had a solid plan, and it went wrong, so horribly fucking wrong.”

“You care about him.”

There’s no judgment in her voice, nor even the slightest hint of disdain, just a naked curiosity that speaks volumes—not that I can blame her. After a lifetime of watching me avoid the opposite sex at all costs, her curiosity is well-warranted.

Falling in love with the most hated man in England was never the plan.

“I’d chase him to the ends of the earth,” I admit, finally raising my gaze to meets hers. See me, I ache to whisper, see him. “He’s human, Mags. He’s good and honest, like you. He’s dangerous and complex, like me. He’s flesh and blood—a man, not a god—and this bounty—”

“He’s dying.”

Plucking the antidote from my pocket to set it down on Sara’s desk, I growl, “He’s alive.”

“I mean that he’s dying because of me.”

When I only stare at her, she roughly pushes her hair back behind one ear. “A coward accepts fidelity from all and offers none in return. A coward,” she grits out, “allows her allies to fall, one by one, while she retreats to watch it all unravel at her feet. I am a