The Princess's Revenge Chapter 18

Valencia's POV

The torchlight cast his face in sharp relief—all hard angles and cold fury. His gray eyes blazed with an intensity that made my blood run cold.

I'd seen him angry before. Seen him kill without hesitation. He looked like he wanted to tear me apart.

"I—" My voice came out as a squeak. I cleared my throat and tried again. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"GET OUT." Each word was controlled, and absolutely terrifying because of it.

I bent to pick up the journal, hands shaking. But Logan was suddenly there, grabbing my wrist in an iron grip.

"Don't. Touch. That."

"I'm sorry," I whispered again. "I got lost, and I smelled the lavender, and it reminded me of—"

"I don't care what it reminded you of." He released my wrist and snatched the journal from the floor. "This room is forbidden. Do you understand? FORBIDDEN."

His voice rose on the last word, making me flinch. I'd never been more afraid of him than I was in that moment.

"I'm sorry," I said a third time, backing toward the door. "I'll go. I'll never come back here, I promise—"

"You shouldn't have come here in the first place!" Logan advanced on me, and I retreated until my back hit the wall. He stopped inches away, his hands braced on either side of my head, caging me in. "This is my mother's room. Her private space. How dare you violate it?"

"I didn't know!" The words burst out of me. "There was no sign, no lock. I smelled lavender and I—" I stopped, realizing how weak the explanation sounded.

"You what?" His face was so close to mine now. "You decided your curiosity was more important than boundaries? More important than respect?"

"No! That's not—" I struggled to find words that might reach him through his fury. "The lavender... it smelled like my mother. Like home. I just wanted..."

"What?" His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "What did you want?"

"To feel safe," I whispered back. "Just for a moment. To remember what it felt like when someone loved me."

The confession hung between us. Logan's expression flickered—surprise, then something that might have been understanding, before the anger crashed back in.

His fist slammed into the wall beside my head. Stone cracked under the impact. I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the blow to land on me instead.

But it never came.

When I opened my eyes, Logan's hand was still pressed against the wall, blood seeping from his knuckles. His whole body trembled with the effort of holding back.

"Get out," he said, his voice raw. "Now. Before I do something we'll both regret."

I didn't need to be told twice. I ducked under his arm and ran.

Logan's POV

I stood in my mother's room long after Valencia fled, my forehead pressed against the wall where my fist had struck. Blood dripped from my knuckles onto the dusty floor, each drop a small crimson bloom.

Knox paced frantically in my mind. What did you do? Why did you frighten her like that?

She shouldn't have been here, I shot back.

She didn't know, Knox argued. She made a mistake. We've made her terrified of us.

I know, I cut him off sharply. I know what she saw.

But even as I said it, guilt twisted in my chest. My reaction had been excessive. Anyone could wander into the wrong room. The castle was a maze of corridors, and I'd given her no warning, no map, no guidance.

I picked up the journal from where I'd set it on the bed. I opened it to that last entry.

"The purple-eyed child who will bridge two worlds and bring vengeance at last."

For years, I'd wondered what she meant. What prophecy she'd found. Why it had seemed so urgent.

And now Valencia was here. A girl with purple eyes.

But it was her words that kept echoing in my mind. The lavender... it smelled like my mother. Like home.

My hands tightened on the journal. Lavender. My mother's favorite flower. She'd filled this room with it, hung sachets everywhere, tended the plants by the window with meticulous care.

And Valencia's mother had done the same.

The coincidence was too strange to ignore. Purple eyes. A love of lavender. A connection to something my mother had been desperately searching for.

Was there a link? Did Valencia somehow relate to my mother's research? The questions circled endlessly, but I had no answers.

You're going to lose her, Knox said quietly.

What?

If you keep hiding like this. If you keep lying to yourself about what you feel. You're going to lose her. His voice was firm, certain. I can feel it, Logan. The more you push her away, the more you hurt her, the further she'll drift from us.

I sank onto my mother's bed, careful not to disturb the coverlet. The lavender scent enveloped me, still offering that phantom comfort.

Valencia's face flashed through my mind—not from tonight, but from that other night. After Amara's attack. When she'd looked at me with those wounded purple eyes and asked the question I couldn't answer.

"Why did you save me?"

I'd stood there, silent. Unable to find words. Unable to give her the truth she deserved.

And the disappointment that had flickered across her face—the way her shoulders had slumped, the light dimming in those extraordinary eyes—it haunted me still.

You need to tell her, Knox urged. Tell her how you feel. Tell her what she means to us.

I will, I thought back. When the time is right.

Not about the mate bond, Knox realized, his tone shifting to frustration. You're still not going to tell her about that.

No. The word was firm in my mind. I don't want fate dictating her choices. I don't want her accepting me—or anything between us—because some mystical bond says she should.

Logan—

When she's ready. When I'm certain she can make the choice freely, without the mate bond influencing her judgment. Then I'll tell her. But not before.

You're a fool, Knox said, but there was resignation in his voice. But she's ours either way. So do what you must.

I carefully closed my mother's journal and set it back on the desk where it belonged. Then I closed the door behind me and locked it this time.

I would talk to Valencia. Clear the air. Make things right between us.

Alpha! Dorian's urgent voice burst through the mind link. Gamma Xander and Gamma Amara have convened the Elder Council. They're conducting a "value assessment" on the slave girl—they say she must either prove her worth to the pack or be expelled.

Shock jolted through me, immediately followed by white-hot rage. What?!

They're in the third-floor hall now, Alpha. They claim it's within their authority as Gammas to assess any new pack members who might drain resources—

I didn't wait to hear the rest. My boots pounded against stone as I descended the stairs, rage building with every step. The audacity. The absolute fucking audacity of them to do this behind my back.

The third-floor hall loomed ahead, torchlight spilling from its entrance.

I was fucking going to end this shit.

Valencia's POV

I fled Logan's mother's room, my heart still racing from his fury. The journal, his rage—it all blurred together as I hurried through the third-floor corridor, trying to find my way back to my room.

A figure stepped directly into my path.

I stumbled back, my heart leaping into my throat. Xander stood before me, his eyes cold and filled with barely restrained fury. Before I could react, Amara emerged from a side corridor, blocking my other escape route.

My breath caught. Amara's left hand was wrapped in thick bandages and suspended in a sling across her chest. Even through the cloth, I could see the telltale bulk was wrong—incomplete. Where her hand should have been, there was only a stump.

Her amber eyes burned with pure hatred as they locked onto mine. "You fucking bitch," she hissed, her voice dripping venom. "Look what you made him do to me."

"Going somewhere?" Xander's voice was deceptively mild, but his jaw was clenched tight. His hand moved to rest on the hilt of his sword. "After what you did to my sister?"

"I—I was just returning to my room." I tried to step around him, but he moved to block me again.

"I don't think so." Amara's smile was sharp and vicious. Her good hand flexed at her side, as if imagining wrapping it around my throat again. "We have somewhere else you need to be, witch."

Panic flared in my chest. "What? No, I need to—"

Xander's hand shot out, gripping my upper arm hard enough to bruise. "The Council requires your presence. Now." His fingers dug in painfully. "You think you can bewitch our Alpha and mutilate pack members without consequences?"

"Let go of me!" I tried to wrench free, but his grip was iron. "I haven't done anything—"

"You cost my sister her hand!" Xander's composure cracked, rage flashing across his face. "She's a warrior—was a warrior—and now she's crippled because of you!"

"That's for the Council to decide." Amara moved to my other side, her remaining hand digging into my other arm with bruising force. She leaned in close, her breath hot against my ear. "I'm going to watch them expel you. And when you're outside pack protection, with no Alpha to shield you, I'll hunt you down myself. I'll make you scream for days before I finally kill you, you worthless whore."

I struggled, twisting in their grasp. My feet scrambled for purchase on the stone floor as they began dragging me down the corridor.

"Stop—please, just tell me what's happening!" My voice cracked with desperation.

Two warriors appeared from around the corner. Their faces were impassive as they fell into step behind us, cutting off any chance of escape.

"You'll find out soon enough," Xander said, his tone almost bored as he hauled me forward, though I could feel the tremor of rage in his grip.

Amara spat at my feet. "Fucking witch. You'll pay for what you've done."

The hall loomed ahead, torchlight spilling from its entrance. Through the doorway, I could see figures gathered inside.

"No." The word came out as barely a whisper. I renewed my struggles, thrashing against their grip. "No, please, I don't—"

They dragged me toward the entrance. Through the doorway, I caught glimpses of the scene within—a circle drawn on the floor, elderly figures seated around it, a raised platform at one end.

The scene before me made my blood run cold. The warriors pushed me through the doorway, and I stumbled into the hall.

Xander and Amara took their positions on a raised platform. Amara's bandaged stump was prominently displayed, a silent accusation. She stared down at me with such concentrated hatred that I felt it like a physical weight. Her lips moved, mouthing curses I couldn't quite hear but could easily imagine.

And there, standing to one side with his expression carefully blank, was Dorian.

"Kneel," Xander commanded, his voice hard as stone.

I didn't move fast enough. Amara descended from the platform with her good hand clenched into a fist. She kicked the back of my knees with vicious force, sending me crashing down onto the cold stone. Pain shot through my legs, but I bit my lip to keep from crying out.

"That's where you belong," she hissed above me. "On your knees like the worthless slave you are."