The whiskey had my head spinning. Blissful oblivion and the absence of the cursed whispers in the back of my mind. My head fell back against the cushioned backing of the chaise. I shifted spreading my legs as the siren call of sleep begged for me. It'd been a while since I'd been able to fall into her graces. Sleep was rare, but the whiskey promised it. Rhysand was somewhere in his room, perhaps on the bed, and Mor was sat on the floor beside me. I felt the warmth of her head falling back against my thigh. Cauldron, my body begged for her touch. I hated being touched by anyone unless in a sparring match, but I'd kill to feel her hands on my skin.
My head rolled to the side, blurred vision parting my eyes as I gazed down at the honey blonde hair. Maybe it was the whiskey, or the lack of my morals, but I brought my hand to feel the strands. I wondered what the perfect curls felt like without the leather glove between us. How would her plush skin feel under my fingertips? I hated that Cass knew exactly how that felt. I hated that it was only a ploy, yet he still had the blessings of her moans and whimpers while I was left to imagine them.
"Az," a voice croaked from the door. I turned my head, squinting to see Cassian peering through the small gap he'd made. I gave him a questioning look as my finger twirled a pretty strand of gold. His head snapped to the side, urging me to join him. I'd kill him for this. I wanted to deny him, to ignore whatever pleas he had, but the fear in his face told me it was urgent. Sucking in a breath, I sat up and held Mor's head from my thigh as I slipped from the chaise. Her plump lips pouted in her sleep. Whatever urgent matter Cass had could wait. I dropped to a squat and slid my hands beneath Mor's back and thighs. I lifted her onto the seat, which she responded to by immediately curling onto her side and sighing.
It was a torturous thing to turn away from her, but I did. I glanced to Rhys, who was sprawled on his back with an empty whiskey bottle tucked into his arm. He wouldn't wake for whatever this was about. My footfalls were silent as I slipped out of the door and into the corridor with Cass. He looks nervous and afraid, which immediately had my whiskey-fueled blood pumping.
"What is it?" I asked, glancing down at his hands. I smelled the tobacco he had smoked, but there was a sweeter scent beneath it. Jasmine, maybe? It wouldn't be uncommon here, but it had my spine straightening nonetheless.
"It's- fuck- it's Freyja. I was on the veranda smoking and she just winnowed out of nowhere. She was crouched and shaking. I tried to comfort her but she told me to stop. I didn't know what to do so I brought her to her bedroom. I heard her crying when I left, but I don't know what happened, Az. I think someone hurt her."
My brows furrowed as I glanced to the closed door at the end of the hall. Indeed, there were muffled sobs within. Without thinking, I sent my sleeping shadows into her room. My eyes fell shut, trying to picture what they told me.
Crying.
In pain.
Marred and bloodied.
My eyes snapped open. That was no helpful information whatsoever. My eyes turned to Cass. "Go to her room and try and get some information out of her. Should I wake Rhys?"
He shook his head. "No, something tells me this isn't a situation she would want him to know about."
I nodded slowly, my gaze drifting to her door once again. Cass sighed but walked down to her door and opened it. I watched him slip in and close it again. With my own sigh, I leaned against the wall and let my eyes fall shut.
Denial.
There are no answers.
Frightened.
I listened to their quiet descriptions as I waited. I couldn't fathom what situation she could've gotten into that would end with her in such distress. She was always silent, always obedient. Unless Alcaeus had lost his temper, which had happened before, there should be no reason that she'd end up like this. It made me curious about what my shadows said about her being bloodied. How bad? What type of wound? Had it been herself or another? I didn't know and for some reason, that irritated me. Throughout the nearly three decades that I'd known her, Freyja had only ever caused a ruckus when something pissed her off. I've bared witness to her screaming matches with Odessa and Alcaeus about the treatment of females in Windhaven or how she wanted to hold a sword like her brother. Other than that, she was silent and drifted through the palace or small home in Windhaven like a spirit.
My eyes snapped open at the sound of Cassian slipping through her door again. His face held a mixture of fury and sorrow- pity, maybe? I pushed off from the wall and met him in the center of the corridor. He shook his head as his fists clenched at his sides.
"I don't know what happened. She just cried and told me to go away. She went silent after a while. I don't know if she fell asleep or what, but I think someone hurt her. I smelled blood but I couldn't see any on her. Her bottom lip is swollen and red, and her neck is bruised. Some of it is beneath her gown and I didn't want to touch her. I don't know what she had gone through, but I think something bad happened, Az."
My pulse began to race as I absorbed what he told me. It sounded like common injuries of sexual assault. I'd seen plenty of that in my life, and plenty of males had taken their last breath on my blade for it. If it had happened to Freyja... Gods, I couldn't even imagine what Rhys would do.
"I'll go check it out. You go back to Rhys's room and make sure he doesn't wake up. I need to know what happened before he's awake. If something happened to her, you know what he will do. I'll see if I can get anything out of her," I murmured, shooting him a quick glance before slipping past him. I heard him exhale heavily before giving me a grunt for an answer. My fingers hesitated on Freyja's door handle until I heard the other door softly close. With a sharp inhale, I walked into her room. Immediately, I was met with a sour blend of jasmine, blood, and tobacco. The blood was faint, perhaps just a scratch somewhere, but there was another scent. Musky, smoky. Arousal, and not the sweet smell of a female's.
My eyes scanned the small lump on the bed, backlit by the moon that rose just hours before. She was asleep. Seemingly overcome by the exhaustion brought by the emotions. Throat working on a swallow, I stepped forward. Her hair was over her face as though she'd thrashed around. I didn't want to touch her, especially if she had experienced what we thought, but I needed to know what kind of injuries she had. My fingers trembled slightly as I brushed the dark strands from her skin. Her features were twisted as though the agony still affected her in sleep. Her brows were pulled together small fists clutching the pillow in front of her face. I slid my fingers beneath her cheek to tilt her head toward me. Her brows pulled tighter, the skin around her lips going white with tension. I stilled until she eased, nodding her head in seek of comfort.
I held my breath as I tilted her face further. There was a reddened bruise on her cheek. It was already healing, but the evidence was there. My jaw tightened as Freyja shifted onto her back. A blessing, because now I could inspect her more thoroughly. I'd seen what assault left behind and my chest ached with the realization that Freyja had experienced it. Her bottom lip was swollen, like Cass had said, and I could see where the skin had broken and clotted. I ran my knuckle along her jaw, lifting her chin. Deep purple bruises where fingers had held her were lined on her throat. My eyes flicked to her stomach, hidden beneath the fabric of her gown. I had to fight the sensation of bile at the memory of Mor. This wasn't nearly as gruesome, but a female so close to the family, to us, rather than the strangers I normally helped had the memories slamming into me.
A shuddering breath escaped me. I couldn't help myself. I skimmed my fingertips over the slow rise and fall of her belly, just to ensure I felt no blood or gaping wounds. I lifted them at her navel, eyes narrowed at the swell of her hips beneath the twisted skirt. The scent of blood and male arousal rose. It disgusted me, knowing what I had to check. I wished she could wake and tell me she was alright with where my hands would have to go. My eyes squeezed shut as my hand fell to her calf, just below the hem of the skirt. I slid my fingers up, hitting a gathered fabric at her knees. My eyes snapped open. Lifting the skirt slightly, I saw the delicate fabric of undergarments. They'd been pulled down. Cauldron. Biting back the guilt and disgust, I slid my fingers higher. I kept her skirt in place enough to cover her intimate areas, but a warm sensation hit my glove. My eyes snapped to her face.
Freyja still slept, her face twisted in discomfort. I lifted my other hand to lay over her hips to keep her skirt down, lifting the hem until I saw the darkness on her inner thighs. A shattered breath left me. It wasn't enough blood to assume a male had fully penetrated her, but they'd done enough. It was a smear of it just below her core. Despite the anger churning my stomach, I leaned forward and inhaled. There was no trace of female arousal, and the musk of a male was faint. A cock hadn't entered her, which seemed like a relief but no better than what I suspect happened. I shuddered, reaching down and grabbing the thin fabric around her knees. I pulled them up, watching her face as I pulled them into place. I didn't want her blood on my hands, but I didn't want her to wake with blood on her thighs.
Her blood is on your hands.
She will wake to terror.
Your hands have marred her.
My eyelids fluttered at the slow crawl of my shadows up my throat, choking me with the realization that my hands had been on her without her knowledge. I hated it. No female deserved to be touched while unconscious, but I told myself it would be better in the end and wiped my palm over her thighs. With one quick glance to ensure the traces of blood wasn't on her, I pulled her skirt down. I grabbed the small blanket folded at the end of her bed and threw it over her, since she laid over the quilt. I didn't bother looking at her face before I left. I didn't want to feel like that discomfort so evident was from me.
I used my clean hand to open her door and slip into the corridor. To no surprise, Cassian stood outside of Rhys's bedroom. His brow lifted in question and it sickened me to nod, confirming his suspicions. I mindlessly lifted the dirtied hand, showing him the evidence.
"Fuck," he muttered, letting out a slow breath. My lips pressed into a thin line, all traces of intoxication gone. My shadows bombarded me with the thoughts I hated, along with new ones from what they'd witnessed moments before.
"Yeah. The male scent wasn't strong enough for him to have fully... you know. It must have just been his fingers. Either way, she'd bruised and will feel it in the morning. I think we should keep this to ourselves until we figure out what kind of situation she was put into. No one is allowed in this palace except for servants, who were dismissed before we arrived. She had to have left at some point, especially if she winnowed in."
Cassian nodded, agreeing with my words. I couldn't speak anymore, and I think he knew that. His eyes flicked from Freyja's door to me with a look of pity before he slipped back into Rhys's room. My throat tightened, my skin itched. I didn't bother following him. Instead, I made my way into the first bathing chamber I could find and tore my clothes off. I could've just cleaned my gloves, but the disgust had settled into my bones. I needed to scrub my skin until the cursed whispers stopped.