Chapter 56: Scarred: Chapter 54

This time, although I’m still in chains, at least I’m in a room.

It’s been days now. They haven’t hurt me physically; in case they need to use me for photos in the press.

They’re trying to lure Tristan in by using me as bait.

And through it all, the only thing I can think of is he’s alive. He made it.

The door to my room opens, Michael and my uncle stepping inside, the way they do every day around this time, just to torment me.

“Sara,” Uncle Raf starts. “We don’t wish to keep you chained up forever.”

“Then kill me,” I hiss.

“You are my blood, child. Don’t be absurd.” He sighs, walking toward me and sitting on the edge of the bed. Hatred burns bright in my chest as he does. “Change is scary, I know. We’ve lost your cousin, and your father, may they rest in peace.”

My insides boil at the mention of my father.

“But change is also good,” he finishes, leaning in to pat my hand, the chains clanking when he does.

I spit in his face.

Rage twists his features, and he slams his hand against my cheek, his rings cutting across my skin. Smirking, I fling the curls from my eyes and glare at him. “Finally, Uncle. Your true colors show after so many years.”

Michael sighs from across the room. “I’m tired of you two bickering. I should kill you just to be rid of it.”

“I wish you would,” I quip. “If you think Tristan’s angry now, just wait until he hears that I’m dead.” I smile. “I think I’ll come back and haunt the castle walls just to watch the show.”

Heavy footsteps make their way down the hall and bang against the door.

“Enter,” Michael spits.

A young soldier runs into the room, his brow sweaty and his face pale as if he’s seen a ghost. “Your Majesty.” He bows. “I have a message.” His eyes flicker around the room, hesitating when they land on me. “From your brother.”

My heart leaps in my chest.

Michael stands straighter, walking toward the man. “And?”

“He’s crazy, sire. He… he’s burning everything. He sent me to tell you that he won’t stop. Not until you give her back.”

Michael’s head tilts, growing still and calm. “What do you mean he’s ‘burning everything?’”

The man’s eyes flick to me one more time, and I lean in, something eager swirling through my gut, thinking of Tristan coming to save me. Just like he said he would.

“I mean, the entire main strip of Saxum is gone, sire,” he whispers. “And now they’ve moved on to the eastern end. And the fires… water isn’t working. They’re spreading fast.”

Michael roars, flipping the table next to him, the lamp sliding off the top and smashing to porcelain pieces on the ground. He turns to face me, pointing his thick fingers at me. “This is all your fault.”

I grin, my blood heating in my veins. “You reap what you sow, Michael Faasa. May God have mercy on your soul when Tristan gets his hands on you.”

Yells sound from down the hall, and Uncle Raf stands from where he was still sitting against the bed. Marisol appears in the open doorway, her cheeks flushed. Hope springs alive in my chest. I wasn’t sure if she had survived after freeing me.

She drops into a deep curtsy. “Your Majesty.”

“Speak, woman.” Michael paces back and forth, wearing a hole through the deep burgundy carpet.

“The castle is on fire.”

My arm jostles as Michael throws open the front doors to the courtyard, dragging me along with him.

I glance around, my nerves jittery, but I don’t have to look for long.

Because there he is.

Standing like a god in the middle of the court, his hands in his pockets, suspenders hanging off his waist, black sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and a joint between his lips.

My beautiful, scarred prince.

His eyes lock on mine, and a calm takes over. He came back.

“Brother,” Michael growls from next to me, his fingers tightening on my arm.

Tristan ignores him, his gaze sweeping up and down my body like he’s checking for a single scratch. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” I reply. “But I wish for you to kill them, anyway.”

He laughs—a genuine laugh—throwing his head back and cackling, smoke puffing out with his breaths.

“How did you get through the gates?” Uncle Raf steps forward, his cane slapping against the ground as he stops next to me, a few of the military guards following behind him.

“Well, we tried to use the tunnels last time, and that didn’t work very well.” Tristan smirks.

Raf’s knuckles tighten around the top of his cane, and he glances to the few guards scattered around the entrance. My eyes move past them, and I can see smoke clouds pluming behind the gates, licks of fire flickering with the wind.

“Call the guards, you imbeciles!” Uncle Raf spits at the soldiers who stand still.

“You could try,” Tristan drawls. “But the dead don’t often answer calls.”

Michael slams me on the ground, and I roll forward, my face smacking against the concrete as my body flings down the cold stone steps until I’m splayed on the grass.

I cry out from the surprise, and when I breathe deep, a sharp pain splices through my side. I glance up and see Tristan’s grin drop, his eyes turning feral.

“I warned you once what would happen if you touched her,” he says. “I’ve come to collect.”

Michael yells, “I am the king! Seize him!”

A few guards start to move, but hesitate before stalling once again.

“They no longer answer to you.” Tristan’s voice is lethal, and as inappropriate as it is, my body heats, arousal curling through me at the power that bleeds through his tone. “And the few who do are smart enough to realize when they’re fighting a losing battle. You see, brother,” he continues, moving closer toward us, as if he’s taking a casual walk through the court. “While you’ve spent your years throwing parties and rubbing arms with the men in high places. While you’ve planned, and plotted, and murdered our father.” He pauses, and Michael stiffens. “I was in towns, in people’s homes, and in their ears. Showing them a better way. Showing them what would happen if they just pledged their loyalty to me.”

Michael scoffs. “We killed your pathetic hyenas. Their corpses rot in the tunnels as we speak.”

Tristan chuckles, twisting as he looks behind him. “You’ve always underestimated me.” And then, he raises his hand in the air and flicks his wrist, and the heavy wooden gates come tumbling down, dozens of people storming through them, with fury on their face and hyenas patched onto their sleeves.

My chest swells with hope. Rebels.

Tristan moves forward, and I surge to my feet, ignoring the pain in my side. He takes giant steps, and he doesn’t stop until he reaches me.

The second he touches me, my body comes alive, his arms smoothing up my sides and cupping my face, ignoring everyone. “Let me show you what a true revolution looks like,” he whispers.

And then he kisses me.

Yells and hollers sound from behind, and chaos breaks out, although I couldn’t tell you who was fighting who. I’m too lost in Tristan’s mouth to care.

He breaks away, and I turn just in time to see the castle doors fly off their hinges, Edward, Sheina, and Marisol carrying torches, flames crawling up the walls behind them.

My heart pounds in my chest when I see them, and I bite back a sob, knowing there will be time for emotion later. Because I can feel it even now, we will win.

Tristan runs a hand down my hair before breaking away and moving toward his brother. “Where is our mother, is she still here? Will I be burning her alive, or do I get the pleasure of chasing her down and snapping her neck?”

Michael shakes his head back and forth, his eyes widening as he stares at the few dead guardsmen at his feet, and then swinging his gaze to where Edward is kicking my uncle Raf to his knees, pointing a gun at his head.

“No!” I scream, running over to stand in front of them.

Uncle Raf coughs as he stares up at me. “You’ve always been the smartest child. Thank you.”

“Did you kill my father?” I question, my voice low.

His face drops. “Sweet niece, you must understand. I—”

Throwing my palm in the air, I cut him off.

“Tell me!” I scream. “Admit it was you. It was you all along. You planned it from the start, didn’t you? Killed my father, then sunk your claws into my grief, molding it to fit your goals.”

His eyes widen. “I’ve always done everything out of love. For our family.”

I huff out a laugh, sorrow and anger bludgeoning my insides. “You don’t love me. You don’t love anyone but yourself.”

He coughs again. “Please…”

I don’t allow him to finish, my fist snaking out and slamming into his face until blood spurts from his nose and he flies onto his back. Reaching over his head, I grab the torch out of Edward’s hands, the weight of it comforting as it sits in my hand. And then I drop it on his chest, watching as the fabrics of his clothes are lit aflame. He screams, a piercing high-pitched wail, and flies down the stairs, his bum knee making him stumble and fall as he rolls on the ground. But it’s no use, and while I watch him burn alive, the blaze engulfing him the same way they’re licking at the far castle walls, I feel… empty.

Because, as it turns out, there is no happiness in vengeance.

“Milady, we must move!” Edward yells, grabbing my arm and running away from the fire that’s now burning around the edges of the door. “Go!”

I glance around, my stomach surging into my chest as I look for Tristan, but he’s nowhere to be seen. And neither is Michael.

“Where is he?” I cry, fighting against Edward’s hold to find him.

“He’s already out of the gates, going after his brother.”

I give in then, choosing to believe him, choosing to trust that after everything, after all of this, he wouldn’t lead me astray.

So I turn, lifting my skirts, and running for my life, trying to escape the heat of the burning castle as it rages at my back.