Grounding the Storm ✓

Chapter 31

"A fight in the kitchens, Roux? Really?" Renit shouts. He shoves me into his chambers and slams the door behind him; hard enough to shake the windows. I squeeze my eyes shut at the sound. In Arego, I knew when doors slammed and windows rattled that what was about to happen on the inside of that cottage was not part of pleasantries.

"I told you!" I shout back. "He wouldn't leave Celestine alone!" I gesture towards the sidewall of his chambers as though the kitchens might be on the other side.

"That doesn't give you the right to attack him!" Renit moves towards me, a threatening pace, and I take two steps back with my hand outstretched before me. I watch his every move.

He freezes, annoyance still in his eyes, but slows. "Don't touch me," I warn.

"I'm not going to hurt you, I need to inspect your wounds. I can't tell from our distance apart if he crushed anything." Renit bats my hand away and finishes those dangerous steps forward, tilting up my chin to get a better look. I despise being this close to him, especially with my neck this vulnerable to attack. The witch collects daggers for a reason.

As carefully as he can, he runs his thumb over the bruises in the shape of a collar around my skin and determines nothing is cracked or broken. When he steps away and drags a hand through his hair, staring at me with those looming silver eyes, I can barely stare back. "Do you need a healer?" He asks. I want to slap him for how gentle he sounds.

"No, I don't." My voice is quiet to match his tone and that...that is not good. This is a different conversation than what we normally have, bickering or shouting at each other like moments ago. He's being genuine, this is a different characteristic than what he has allowed himself to show.

The blood from his nose has stopped dripping and has dried against his skin, stopping at his lip before trickling back down his chin. "Do you need a healer?"

Renit snorts. "I've been in much worse conditions. A bloody nose and bruised knuckles are nothing for me. You, on the other hand, I don't want to see you doing that again. No more fights in the kitchens." He points a finger at me like I'm a child and I slap it away, same as he did with mine.

When I nod, he walks towards his bathing chamber. "No more fights in the kitchens," I repeat under my breath in a mocking tone. He stops, turns, and raises his eyebrows at me. My eyes immediately go to the floor to hide my smile.

"Seriously?" He grounds out.

I stutter over my own words and he waits for what I might have to say after that. Never mock a prince, apparently. "You don't have to be so serious all the time. It was just a little fight."

"A little fight? This isn't a playground, this is a castle and after this engagement ceremony, everyone will know you're my betrothed. You have to be professional." He moves towards me again, this time at a slower pace, and I allow him to run his thumb over my throat for a second time to check if anything is broken. Nothing more than bruises, I don't feel any pain.

"I didn't attack him for fun. I did it because he wouldn't leave Celestine alone. It was my right to knock him upside the head with a tray." In that blurred state of mind, there hadn't been a better option than hitting him with that tray. Other than the options of asking Silas to interfere or opting for the simple route—pushing Darius away—neither had occurred. That was the farthest I've ever sunk into myself without my power present.

"That's the thing, you have no right. If you can't defend yourself, don't start fights!" He slaps his hands against his thighs and in his eyes, restraint flashes through his senses, pushing with all his force. "I won't always be there to defend you and if he kept choking you, he might have—"