Broken (Thrall Book 2), page 7
I’m starting to wonder if I’m an idiot for putting my faith in the biggest prick I’ve ever met.
I know Thorne. If he were in the palace, he would do everything in his power to find out where my quarters are and come to me…unless something was preventing him.
“If that asshole of a prince is lying to me,” I say under my breath. “If he’s done something to Thorne…I swear I’ll…”
~You’ll what? Maude asks flatly. You can’t threaten the prince. You may be impressive in your way, Shara, but you’re a Healer and a Hunter. You’re still no fighter, and you have no power to take him on.
I want to snap a retort at her, but she’s right. The truth is, Tallin can do anything he wants to me—he could make my life as miserable as humanly possible, and I wouldn’t be able to do a thing about it. All I have is a single, minuscule shred of faith that he’s kept his promise, and that Thorne has indeed been freed from his shackles.
“Do you really think Thorne is here?” I ask Maude. “Is there any way I can know?”
~You’re tethered to him, don’t forget. You should be able to reach for him, just as you would extend your arm to take hold of the book on that coffee table.
I glance over to lay my eyes on the table, which is positioned a few feet from the fireplace. A single, untitled tome lies at its center. I tread over, reach down, and take it in my hands to feel its leather cover, soft and smooth.
~Reach for Thorne, Shara, Maude commands. Set aside your hatred of Tallin…and find the one who matters most.
Doubt fills me at first. The truth is, even in Lady Verdan’s dungeon, I could feel his presence only a little. It was as if the walls between us were blocking our connection. Like our bonds had been temporarily severed.
I let out a long breath and seat myself on the couch. Closing my eyes and raising my face, I call Thorne’s name silently.
At first, nothing comes back to me but a feeling of sheer, echoing isolation, as if he’s simply…gone.
But after a few seconds, I feel—or hear—something.
“Shara.”
The voice is quiet and distant, as if someone is whispering my name a mile away and it’s coming to me on a gust of wind.
But there is no doubt in my mind that it’s him. He’s nearby.
“Thorne,” I whisper. “Are you in the palace—will I really see you tonight?”
There’s a pause, and then that same, distant voice says, “Yes. But you need to know…I can’t—”
I wait for him to finish, but nothing more comes.
I call to him again, seeking any confirmation that it really was his voice that I heard just now.
“Thorne?” I say out loud, and then I half shout, “Thorne!”
But all I hear is silence.
When afternoon comes and it’s time to settle on a dress from my wardrobe, reapply my makeup and style my hair for the dinner party, it’s the thought of Thorne that inspires me.
I’ve been putting off the dress selection since last night. Knowing Tallin wants me to show off my body is nauseating and infuriating, all at once. I’d rather show up with one sack over my head and another one over my entire torso.
But, given that’s not an option, I surrender and begin to rifle through my wardrobe.
If I want to look enticing, it’s for Thorne’s eyes only.
I select a flattering dress of green silk with a long, flowing skirt. Its bodice fits me like a glove, showing off my curves in a way that I hope will distract from my face, just in case Tallin is wrong and there’s a risk the Prefect will recognize me. I grab a small clutch, slipping Mercutio inside, along with a tube of lipstick and a package of tissues.
By the time I’m ready to head to the dinner party, I have to admit Tallin had a point. I look entirely different from the girl I was in the Tower, her hair perpetually pulled back, not a drop of makeup on her face.
Now, with my features altered, my brows filled in, and my hair falling loose about my shoulders in waves, I actually resemble a Noble. My face is virtually unrecognizable, even to me, and I can’t decide whether that’s a good thing or a terrible one.
“Is there anything else I should change about my appearance, Maude?”
~I believe the prince will bring the wrist pieces. They’ll help to cover the markings on your left arm. Other than that, the Prefect might recognize your voice. But there’s not much you can do about that.
“You can’t change it for me?”
~No—at least, not to any degree. It’s up to you to disguise it. My advice is just to act slightly intoxicated. Flirt and fawn over the prince. Laugh a great deal. Trust me, the Prefect will have no idea he’s speaking to a former resident of the Tower. It will never cross his mind.
She has a point. The Tethered candidates the Prefect met in the Tower weren’t exactly a barrel of laughs. We were frightened for our futures and irritatingly self-conscious.
“I’m not sure I know how to fawn and flirt,” I tell Maude.
~It’s easy. Simply pretend the prince is Thorne. Or pretend you’re Kaleen, from your Tower days.
I wince. Kaleen used to flirt endlessly with our fight trainer, Ore, presumably in the hopes of gaining his favor. She was shameless, not to mention annoying as hell. Still, I spent enough hours observing her with a grimace on my lips to know exactly what Maude means.
Dressed in a dark navy suit with a gray shirt, the prince arrives at my suite at six p.m. He eyes me up and down with approval, his gaze dwelling far too long on my cleavage.
“If I didn’t rely on you for your gifts,” he says with a low whistle, “I would absolutely tear that dress off you right here and now, regardless of how repugnant you might find me.”
With a sneer, I ask, “Is that threat of assault supposed to be a compliment?”
Tallin shrugs. “Take it however you like. I’m telling you I would very much like to fuck you. Luckily for you, we have other plans.”
I’m about to counter with a remark about how much I would like for my kneecap to collide with his testicles when I remember Maude’s advice to gush over him tonight. There may be no Prefect present, but I probably shouldn’t risk pissing Tallin off just now.
“For the record, I don’t find you repugnant,” I say, forcing my voice to come out a little smoother, a little higher than usual. “You’re a very…handsome man.”
The last two words force bile into my esophagus.
Tallin smiles, pleased with my compliance. “A compliment? From Shara? The world must be on the verge of ending.”
I mirror his expression, lowering my chin. “I’m just practicing for later,” I tell him.
“Sure you are,” he says, offering me his arm. “Come—it’s time to make our way to dinner.”
Together, we head down to the main entrance and the palace’s curved front drive, where a Flyer awaits us—a sleek, silver work of art with darkened windows.
A driver stands beside the vehicle, his head bowed, hands clasped behind his back.
It’s not until we’re close that he raises his chin and a set of cold hazel eyes lock on my own.
A gasp escapes my lips.
Tallin had claimed Thorne would be on Guard duty tonight at the Prefect’s, but he’d said nothing about the fact that he would be our actual driver.
For a second, I wonder if this is an act of generosity on Tallin’s part—but then, I remind myself the bastard doesn’t have a benevolent bone in his body. It could be the king’s idea, I suppose—showing me a little kindness in hopes of encouraging my cooperation.
“Thorne,” I breathe, almost against my will.
Why do his eyes look so vacant, so distant? Why can’t I feel his mind as I should be able to?
He’s looking straight through me as if I’m not even here.
In an instant, I feel the prince’s hand on my back, fingertips digging in through the thin fabric of my dress.
“Do not acknowledge him,” Tallin snarls under his breath. “It’s me you’re supposed to want—remember? You’re not even meant to know this lowly Guard. He’s only here to prove to you that he is unhurt. Now, get in.”
As if stirring from a stupor, Thorne narrows his eyes at the prince but says nothing. Instead, he simply offers up one nod as if to acknowledge that he, too, heard Tallin’s command.
“I…thought you said Valira was coming,” I say, my voice strained. “Where is she?”
“She’s traveling separately,” Tallin replies. “She can be a little possessive. A little jealous, too. I don’t want to inspire a cat fight in the Flyer, given that you and I will be snuggled together in the back seat.”
I shoot him a look, wondering what he means by that. Is he seriously worried Valira will think I have my sights set on him—or is he actually intending to try something?
If that’s the case, why isn’t Thorne reacting?
I watch as he moves around to the driver’s side door and opens it, ignoring both Tallin and me.
When we’re inside the vehicle, I peer into the rearview mirror as Thorne slides into the pilot’s seat and prepares for takeoff. The prince slips close to me, pushing my hair away from my neck and stroking a finger over my bare shoulder.
It doesn’t take a genius to figure out the prince is manipulating us both, torturing us with proximity while forbidding us from touching. But knowing what he’s doing doesn’t make it any less infuriating.
“Highness, maybe you should keep your hands to yourself until we’re at the Prefect’s,” I say, fighting the strain in my voice.
“I would,” Tallin replies, “but you’re just so…enticing.”
Thorne’s eyes shift to the reflection in the mirror. Gone is the dazed, vacant look, and I can almost taste the rage roiling inside him when he spies Tallin’s hand possessively claiming my skin.
“Thorne,” I say again when the doors are sealed and the engine thrums to life. “Are you okay?”
A second later, Tallin’s fingers are around my throat, squeezing. “Tsk. I told you—do not acknowledge him.”
Thorne twists around in his seat, his eyes flaring bright, the veins in his neck throbbing.
“Don’t you fucking touch her,” he hisses, his voice rough as sand. “Or I’ll kill you.”
The moment the words pass his lips, his features contort with pain, and a cry escapes his throat.
“Thorne!” I rasp, reaching for him, but Tallin tightens his grip on my neck, forcing me back against the seat.
“He’s fine,” the prince whispers into my ear. “Your dog is simply being disciplined. He knows the rules.”
“What do you mean?” I croak under the pressure of his fingers as they threaten to crush my windpipe.
Tallin releases me and reaches into his pocket to pull out what looks like a small, flat, silver disc with a white sphere turning slowly at its center. “You may think I monitor all members of the Royal Guard closely—that I watch them and tap into their Maude units for information,” he says. “But the truth is, I have no interest in omniscience. I am fully aware that those who wish to serve me are loyal. But sometimes, when one of the Guards displays a rebellious streak, I connect their internal wiring to this small creation.” He holds up the device, and I see that the white sphere is glowing slightly. “If your Thorne develops the urge to, say, injure me, he receives a shock painful enough to bring an elephant to its knees.”
His face glistening with perspiration, Thorne shoots me a look in the mirror. How long has this been going on? How many times has Tallin inflicted this very torture in the Verdan dungeon?
Something tells me he’s been issuing these cruel punishments for days now—and that it’s why I’ve been unable to connect fully with Thorne.
“That seems like a bad idea when he’s piloting us, doesn’t it?” I ask, trying desperately to keep my voice light in hopes of defusing the situation.
“Which is precisely why your friend needs to learn to control his emotions,” Tallin laughs. “He might wish me harm, but I don’t suppose he’d want you suffering the residual effects of a fiery crash. Isn’t that right…Guard?”
Thorne shifts in his seat, his stare now fixed on the prince’s reflection.
“Uh-uh,” Tallin says. “Eyes ahead, dog. Don’t worry—I won’t hurt your precious Shara. Not unless one of you breaks the rules. I don’t care for a second that you two have fucked like rabbits. I don’t care if you’re desperate for each other and convinced you’ll somehow find your way back into one another’s arms. You need to understand that you’re both mine—and I could make things very unpleasant for you both, if you insist on defying me.”
“Please,” I plead. “All I ask is that you let me speak to him—or at least, let him speak. I just need to know he’s all right.”
The prince chuckles. “He’s fine. Aren’t you, Thorne?”
The Flyer is silent for a few seconds, then Thorne clears his throat and growls, “I’m fine.”
But I know him—and thanks to Maude, I understand now how to seek out his mind, at least a little. I can feel his anger now as if it were my own, churning like a sea unsettled by a brutal storm. He’s just barely holding it in—barely maintaining control.
He wants Tallin dead, and I don’t blame him for a second.
“There, you see?” Tallin says, leaning in close and pressing his lips gently to my neck.
I yank myself away, glowering at him. “Our agreement was no touching. Stop it.”
The prince clicks his tongue and says, “Our agreement, if you recall, was no touching except when we’re putting on a show for others. And that’s what we’re doing right now for our friend here, isn’t it? Thorne needs to understand the rules. He needs to know I’m in charge.”
“There’s no need for a show,” I snarl. “Save it for your Prefect and your precious fucking Nobles.”
Tallin laughs, then lets his hand drop to my thigh, which he squeezes through the dress’s too-thin layers of silk.
To say I want to slap him is an understatement. I’d like to grab hold of his hand and dig my nails in until he cries out in agony. I’d like to stab him in the heart with a shard of glass. There are many, many things I’d like to do—and not one of them involves him living to see the main course at tonight’s dinner.
I can only hope Thorne can’t see Tallin’s groping hand in the mirror as he eases it slowly upwards.
Pleading silently, I stare ahead, hoping Thorne is somehow able to read my mind when I think, Ignore him. We’ll find a way to be together again. Somehow or other, this will all be over soon.
As I pull my eyes to the window, I remind myself what Archyr said. Tallin and Valira are lovers.
If it’s true, how can the bastard behave this way? How can any man be so callous and cruel—let alone so unfaithful to the woman he allegedly cares for so deeply?
Then again, Tallin is no man.
He’s a goddamned monster.
Chapter
Twelve
The Prefect’s house is situated on a small island called The Reach. According to Maude, it’s one of Kravan’s most elite residential areas, home to only a few of the realm’s high-ranking officials.
Each property is surrounded by high stone walls—just like every single Noble home I’ve seen on Kravan’s various islands.
As we glide low over the grounds in preparation for landing, I spot a pack of what appear to be large, menacing dogs creeping over a vast lawn.
“Sentinel hounds,” the prince says when he sees me staring down at the beasts, who stalk the territory like aggressive shadows. “They’re mechanical, but far more dangerous than real dogs, which can too easily be manipulated with offers of food or affection.”
I see Thorne tensing in his seat as he banks the Flyer around to bring us in for our landing.
“What do the hounds do if they find someone sneaking onto the property?” I ask, my voice sounding like that of a naive child.
“If you enter the grounds uninvited, they rip your face off, or worse,” Tallin explains with relish. “They’ve been known to tear even the most powerful Tethered to shreds on occasion.”
I shudder, recalling the time when a couple of Tethered broke into the Verdan house in search of a certain journal, clearly hunting for the truth about Lady Verdan.
To this day, I have no idea who they worked for—nor do I particularly want to know.
“I’d love to have some hounds on the Royal Grounds,” Tallin adds, “and roaming the Capitol’s streets to take down those damned rebels. But my father refuses—something about a fear of angering the peasants. He’s worried the mechanical dogs would accidentally kill some Noble or other, and the war that’s been raging for years between all the powerful families would escalate quickly. Then again, Father despises all things electronic and mechanical. He much prefers old fashioned forms of surveillance. Human eyes and ears. It’s why he never bothers to have the palace’s cameras updated.”
~The king is wise not to include sentinel hounds among his arsenal of Guards, Maude whispers to my mind. Knowing Tallin, he would probably have the beasts programmed to kill for sport.
“The Quiet War,” I say, briefly eyeing the reflection of Thorne’s eyes in the rear view mirror, “is it really as intense as I’ve heard?”
“More intense, even,” Tallin tells me, leaning in close as if we’re the best of friends. “You might be shocked to discover that many Nobles spend their days trying to figure out how to unseat my father.”
“Why would they, though?” I ask, genuinely perplexed. “He’s the king. It’s not like they would be given the throne of Kravan in his place, is it?”
Tallin sits back, staring at me. Shaking his head, he says, “There are many old tales of kings being overthrown and others taking their place. It’s only a matter of support from other powerful Nobles. And trust me when I say there are worse men—and women—than my father out there.”
Part of me wonders why any Noble would want to change the system. After all, they benefit from it on every possible level, while the Tethered continue to be born in captivity. Every single wealthy person who lives on Kravan’s outer islands possesses property and wealth, and by all accounts, leads a pleasant life.
