Page 31 of Ash and Roses

“This is wildly unnecessary,” he says, but stills to allow me to work. He does, however, snatch the bottle from my hand and pull in a long drink. I let him have it.

The wound isn’t bleeding nearly as much as I thought it was, and the thin trails of molten ruby down his arm and chest have almost completely dried. Also on the table is a bowl of water and a pile of clean strips of cloth—no doubt left here by Tess when he refused her aid. I dip the rag into the water and then run it down the length of his torso. Neither of us speaks, and if he still wants me to leave, he doesn’t say it. When all traces of blood are gone, I tie a fresh linen strip under his arm and around the wound. I have to wrap another all the way around his chest in order to cover the shoulder properly, but he gives me no trouble. He sits stone still, only moving to lift an arm when needed or to take another swig from his bottle.

Through the entire process, he stares at the wall, refusing to meet my gaze or show any sign of discomfort or annoyance. The only time he reacts at all is with a quick wince when I tie the fabric. I can’t say I’ve done this before, but I’m satisfied with my work. I’m sure Tess can fix it later if need be. If he allows it, that is.

When I’m finished, he doesn’t thank me. I didn’t thank him for risking his life for me either, so I guess that makes us even. “I should go,” I say after another long moment.

“Back to your room, I hope.” With that statement, the anger is back. Whatever momentary peace we’d found is gone, and once again, we’re at odds with each other.

“Where else would I go?”

He doesn’t answer, which is probably for the best. I move for the door, and notice for the first time the item tucked beside it against the wall—a broken bow with a distinctive strip of fabric tied to it.

My breath catches in my throat and the dizziness returns. “Where did you get this?”

“The woods. Did you know the huntsman who carried it?”

I bite my lip hard enough to taste blood to stop the flowing of tears, but there’s no hindering them this time. The bow that could only be Jade’s is now covered in a splattering of red. If this is here… If Quinn found it abandoned…

“I’m sorry,” he says, only steps behind me now.

I don’t turn to face him. I can’t. I cradle the bow in my arms and bolt down the spiral staircase. I can feel his eyes on me, but I know he won’t follow. The blur of tears makes it nearly impossible to navigate the narrow spiral, but somehow I make it to the bottom without breaking a leg. The corridor is empty now, and I’m glad for that. Tess and the others are likely gathered by the communal fire for dinner, but I don’t have it in me to join them. Whatever hunger I may have felt earlier is gone, and all that’s left is a raw emptiness greater than even starvation.

Jade is dead, and I’m alone.

CHAPTERFOURTEEN

QUINN

Ishut the door and slide all five locks into place, feeling like the biggest of assholes. Why didn’t I hide that bow? I knew it belonged to her traveling companions, and I’d been planning to return it to her. But not like this. She shouldn’t have had to find out this way. Ruben said she ordered him into the woods to search for her friends—or one in particular, anyway. I don’t need to ask him what he found. Even with the haze of broken memories, I know what the monster did to them.

WhatIdid to them.

Part of me wishes I could remember more, and the other half wants to drink myself into oblivion so I can forget. Forget the torn flesh and potent scent of blood hanging thickly in the air, the metallic taste coating my tongue. I can almost taste it now.

I sit back down on the bed and bring the bottle to my lips. It’s empty, but even a drop or two will help to distract the senses. I run a hand along the coarse pelt beside me, fingers running through long bristles of hair. Is this what saved her?

Her voice plays again through my mind, that desperate‘please,’and I know with certainty that the answer is no. If anything, the pelt would have made the monster more likely to tear through her. No, what saved her is the fact that she somehow reached me in that state. No one else has bypassed the monster and spoken to the man within, and the memory of it still has me shaken. Her words, too ghostly to have been spoken aloud, still haunt me.‘Please. Please, no. Don’t kill me.’

I should tell her the truth, or at least part of it. Time is running out, and if she’s still here when the moon is at its fullest… I let out a sudden roar that surprises even me, and launch the bottle across the room. It shatters when it connects with the wall. I sigh in defeat and stand from the bed, crouching down to pick up the shards.

Every minuscule movement I make tugs at the bandages, and the sting is a constant reminder that I didn’t thank her. Ishouldhave thanked her. From the moment she stepped foot into my woods, she’s been a thorn in my side, but she didn’t have to patch me up. The wound would have healed quickly—a day or two at most—but still. Have I shown her that same kindness even once?

I collect the last shard, somehow managing not to cut myself, and pile them safely into the now reddened rag. The basin of water and strips of cloth were here waiting for me, as if Tess had known I wouldn’t let her tend to my shoulder. Even now, after everything I’ve done to her and the others, they continue to serve me in the few ways they can.

I wish they wouldn’t.

I’m little more than a monster now, and no monster deserves a crown. I’m not their prince, and I’m most certainly not their king. My stomach lurches at the thought of my father’s crown slick with blood, and I lean over the basin, heaving dryly. It’s a reminder that I haven’t eaten since returning, and the thought of my last meal does nothing to stop the retching.

It’s always like this when I return to this form. The monster’s appetite sickens me, but it’s far easier when I’m fairly certain it hasn’t taken human life. It’s harder to reclaim my temporary humanity when I know beyond a doubt that I not only took a life, but devoured it.

My neck arches when the sudden jolt radiates through me, and I suck in a breath through my clenched teeth. Every so often, my bones shift within me, and whenever that jolt fires, I feel as if the change is coming. It still could.

The girl asked about the locks on the door. They aren’t meant to keep someone out—they’re meant to keep me in.

CHAPTERFIFTEEN

ABBY