Of Heirs and Havoc ✔️ | Of Crimes and Crowns Book 2

thirty-nine : of tempests and truth

Victoria's legs ached and burned, as she ran away from the manor house, tearing through thick swaths of jungle with her bare hands. She barely felt the sting of thorns on her skin, could take in none of her surroundings. Not the rainwater that soaked her hastily-pinned curls that were swiftly unravelling from their bun, and drenched her sodden clothes that were already damp with sweat. Not the chill that was starting to set in despite the humid night, nor the scent of smoke from a fire burning somewhere on the manor grounds. Not the bolt of lightning that could be seen lighting up the sky and momentarily throwing all the greenery around her into stark relief. All she saw was her shadow that was visible for a moment, looking flimsy and distorted in the weak light: just a small, weak, hopeless girl who had trusted the wrong men time and time again.

None of it felt real. Only the heartbreak was a visceral thing that she clung to like a fraying lifeline, reminding her of why she needed to leave. So, she persisted, going deeper into the jungle. Away from the manor, away from the traitors and liars, thieves and pirates that awaited her there. A sob broke free from her throat and she tried to shove it back, tried to be quiet. Tried, tried, tried. She was so sick and tired of trying, so sick and tired of trying to be strong. What was the use when there were only more people wanting to break her?

Heavy footsteps fell behind her, crashing and thundering, almost drowned out by the downpour of warm summer rain that fell like a curtain. She ducked behind a tree, and listened.

"Victoria?" Francisco's voice cut through the daze she had put herself into. The daze she had put herself into, in order to avoid him. To avoid thinking of him or sensing anything in this world that could hurt her. If she made a list of such things, he would have been the number one item. "VIctoria, please. Come out. Let me explain."

Childish as it was, she called out, "No!" and ran away.

Rather than listen, he came after her. "You are going to catch your death of cold, Tori."

She gritted her teeth, and kept going, right as her foot caught on a tree root and she stumbled, her ankle wrenching most painfully. Victoria bit her lip to keep in her cry of pain, but of course--of course he found her.

"You're hurt." Concern welled in his brown eyes, and she looked away. The physical pain felt like nothing compared to all that he had put her through.

"And you're a liar." She spat the words at him, trying to take the pain she was feeling and carve it out of herself, to throw it at him and pretend it would make her feel better. It didn't. She just felt worse. "You're a pirate, really? And not to mention the fact that your family is in debt, and you... you're courting me for money!"

He held up both hands. As though he were innocent. "What is—you're not making any sense, Tori."

"The paper!" She screamed, her throat hoarse. "The paper that I found in my room, it was a list of accounts, a ledger for the house of Mendoza. Some servant must have put it there by mistake."

His dark brows furrowed. "Victoria, did it never occur to you that there is definitely someone who wants us to be apart? Someone who would do anything for us not to be together?"

"I don't even know why we're together in the first place, Isko. Or, why we were together..." her voice trailed off when he reached out a hand to hold hers, a frown on his face.

"You're bleeding like mad." He was so warm. She hadn't realized how cold she was, with her teeth chattering, until now.

She tore her hand away from him all the same. "And you're not telling me anything."

"Let's go back to the manor first. You shouldn't be out in this storm—" his concern grated on her.

"Please do not pretend to care about me, Francisco. Just tell me the truth: why were you courting me to begin with?" She put her scratched hands on her hips, ignoring the sting as they met the now-coarse fabric of her gown.

"Because my sister told me to." He rushed out the words in a sigh, as if to soften the blow with a softer delivery. It didn't work.

Pain spiralled our through her chest. She had always thought of emotional wounds and physical agony as two separate things, in two different parts of her body. Her nerves and her heart. But now it all felt connected; everything hurt all at once, every little scar was intensified.

She refused to cry. She would not give him that satisfaction, at least.

"Why." One word, landing with a thud to the ground between them. It was up to him to pick it up or throw it back in her face.

"Victoria—"

"Tell. Me. Why." Tears stung her eyes. In this rain, she told herself he wouldn't know the difference.

"Victoria, I..." he cut himself off, running a hand through his now-sodden hair. "I was meant to distract you. We heard the news of your brother's arrival. Celeste wanted to have enough time, for her to seduce Matthew into making her his wife. That way, if you managed to persuade him to return to Arlea, she could become the queen."

A laugh broke free of her throat, a wild, feral noise. More of a growl than anything. Because Celeste was not a human, and neither was her brother, for all their civilized facades and sophisticated speech and glittering clothes. No, they were nothing more than a pair of vipers. Her hand came up before she knew what she was doing, and smacked him soundly across the face. She saw blood on his cheek.

"I deserved that," he admitted, probing the injured area with a finger. "But please, let me finish."

She nodded. There was no strength left in her to speak.

"I... yes, I am a pirate. I sold information about trade routes that Celeste received from her suitors, in exchange for filling our coffers. But since your arrival, I have not been on my sister's side. I was on Arlea's side." His hands gestured as he spoke, and she hated that her eyes followed the movements, that they cared at all what he did.

Explain, her fiery gaze said.

"The king of Seralia was assassinated on a ship that I boarded, and was hired by the queen. You can ask Her Majesty yourself, if you'd like, but I am speaking the truth. I did it because I knew she wanted to return the Sleeping Island to the Filipias. It was never, ever about money for me and it never has been."

"What was I to you?"

Thunder crashed, and then a creaking noise reached her ears. They both whipped their heads over their shoulders—right as a tree toppled in their direction.