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A Reluctant Promise
That night, after Franco had eventually retired and I was left alone for the first time since the raid, staring blankly at the ceiling from my bed, I could have sworn I heard the faint sound of screams floating up from the interrogation room below the castle. It's just a trick of the wind, I tried to assure myself. The thought did nothing to diminish the goosebumps that had risen on my arms. Later, in my dreams, it was Angelo's voice wailing into the dark.
There was no training the next morning, thankfully, though the alternative was not much better.
I stared blankly forward while Ava pulled and tugged on my hair, humming quietly to herself while she worked. I had hardly spoken a word all morning, not even to protest when she pulled a stiff black dress from my closet in the corner and announced that she would be weaving gemstones into my hair. If she noticed that something was amiss, she gave no sign. I was grateful for that small mercy.
When she finished her work, and I stood squeezed into the constricting gown with my hair half braided into a circlet atop my head that glittered with amethysts and sapphires, the rest hanging in loose curls down my back, she placed a tiny silver tiara atop my head. I gave her a small smile in thanks before trudging out into the cold stone hallway.
The transports were easy to find, as I followed the soft humming of their motors through the castle's grand entry and out into the brisk morning air. Only two stood waiting out front, sleek silver paint shining in the bright morning sun. Droplets of water had blown over on the wind from the fountain on the far side of the vehicles, sparkling like diamonds against the black glass of their windows.
For once, I was grateful to be the last person to arrive.
There was no time to talk. With only a brief nod in my direction by way of greeting, Matteo held out his hand to help his wife into their transport. I looked away before I could make eye contact with Franco, following my parents into our own transport and settling into my seat facing them. The drive to the city would be only a handful of minutes, but my dress was just the slightest bit easier to breathe in when sitting, and I let out an involuntary sigh of relief.
As the transports began moving, I looked my parents over. My mother was in a pretty gown of her own, with her dark hair twisted up into an elegant chignon with a silver and diamond crown resting atop her head. Though she was not showing yet, one of her hands rested lovingly against her abdomen, her other was entwined with the fingers of my father's hand where it lay after he threw his arm around her shoulders. He looked exhausted, though he was trying hard not to show it. His face looked drawn, and there were unmistakable dark smudges under his eyes as if he had been interrogating the prisoners well into the morning. The coppery tang of blood seemed to cling faintly to his skin, permeating more thickly through the air of the transport the longer we sat.
I had to turn my gaze out the window as the memory of Angelo's screams from my nightmares flooded my mind.
"You look beautiful, Giules," my mother said, shattering the silence in the small space, and breaking me from my thoughts, making me jump in my seat. The action seemed to worry her, creases forming on her forehead as she raised her brows.
"Thanks," I mumbled, giving what I hoped was a convincing fake smile.
My father was silent during the exchange, violet eyes gazing unseeing out the window of the transport. I found myself wondering if he was simply mulling over the words of the speech he was about to give, or if his mind was still in that interrogation room back at the castle. Because I could still feel my mother's concerned gaze on me, I held back the shiver from the thought.
A crowd was already gathered outside as the transports rolled to a stop in front of the City Hall. Lance and the rest of our security detail were waiting to escort us into the building amidst the clicks and flashes of cameras. We wasted no time, walking to the second floor of the building and entering the mayor's spacious office.
I plastered a polite smile on my lips while my father and Matteo took the brunt of the mayor's hand shakes and platitudes. I stifled a yawn. Public speaking was tedious enough when you were the one required to speak. To have to stand silently beside the speaker like a pretty accessory while they spoke entered into an almost unfathomable new level of tedium that I was not thrilled to explore. But the sooner this was all finished with, the sooner I could be home, moping away in my room, and I used that thought as a lifeline to pull me through my boredom.
The mayor exited the room through two large glass doors on the far side and walked across the large balcony where he stepped out to the podium placed front-and-center. He began speaking to the crowd below him, though I did not care about his words enough to sharpen my hearing to listen through the glass.
I had received a note from my father upon waking earlier that morning, almost hidden on the breakfast tray Ava brought with her. It was nestled between a glass of orange juice and a bowl of sugar. Inside, my father had detailed all of his findings from his night of interrogation. It wasn't much. The men had been frustratingly tight lipped about information regarding their leadership or plans, but he had managed to wring out the locations of the two stockpiles of food and weapons they had in the city. Before I had risen, local authorities had already secured both locations. I had to reassure myself that if they had found anyone in either place, that the note would have mentioned new prisoners.
In total, the night was enough of a win for the king himself to finally address the country regarding the attacks.
Through the glass, we saw the mayor gesture behind him. My father walked to the doors, the rest of us trailing behind him like immaculately dressed ducklings as he opened them and crossed the threshold onto the balcony. The crowd cheered as my father took the podium, flanked on either side by my mother and Matteo. Franco and I stood proudly a few feet from Matteo, while Lady Ivaldi and Allegra stood on my mother's other side, a step behind.
As my father's voice filled the square below us, I tuned out the sound, letting my gaze sweep unseeing over the sea of people before me. People were crammed into every inch of space available, even lining the rooftops of the buildings circling the city square. I wondered how far I would get if I tried to count them all before my father's speech ended.
A few minutes– or perhaps they were only seconds that felt like minutes– later, Franco's voice drifted softly down to me, "Are you feeling better this morning?"
I tilted my head just slightly to peer up at him, he spared me the briefest of glances, before turning his attention back to the crowd before us, the corner of his mouth twitching up just the tiniest bit.
I turned back out to the crowd as well, letting my own small smile form on my lips. "Yes," I lied, "Thank you." I wasn't feeling better. I wasn't sure if I would ever feel better. My human and wolf forms were warring within me. My instincts were begging me to find Angelo and never let him out of my sight again, they wanted me to find some way to fix this entire screwed up situation. It was almost all I could think about since I had spotted him in that abandoned shop. But the part of my brain that was still thinking logically, reasoned that being with him had been a bad enough idea before I knew of his involvement with the Blood Fangs. Now, it was impossible.
I wanted to scream, to cry again, to demand that the Goddess explain why, of all of the men in the world, she would tie my soul to the enemy. A murderer.
I was mated to a murderer.
I should never let myself be alone with him again, I realized, even if he has never harmed me.
I could never go back to my willow tree.
The Blood Fangs had a list of human victims that grew with each passing week, and he was one of them. The human killer mated to the half-human hybrid. The Goddess was certainly using me as the punchline of some sort of joke. Or, perhaps this was her punishment for not taking mates seriously from the beginning. Or maybe for praying to another God. Whatever her reason, I knew that I had to be feeling her wrath.
Franco brought me back from my thoughts with a soft whisper, "You look lovely today, by the way." I wished that his words had the same effect on me that they used to.
"I'd feel more lovely in a nice pair of pants right about now," I mumbled back, speaking through lips still plastered in a pleasant smile for the onlookers.
"Imagine that," he chuckled quietly beside me, "the king giving a speech to reassure the public that they have nothing to worry about while his daughter stands beside him in full body armor."
I barely concealed my snort in time, "I didn't say I wanted to be wearing battle armor, you dunce. But dresses are absurd and impractical."
He glanced wryly to the left where his mother and sister were doing a much better job of standing quietly than we were. "Everyone else seems perfectly fine in their dresses."
"Then they can keep them," I snapped back grumpily through my fake smile. I looked pointedly at the black and silver uniform he was wearing, "the men are all in formal military uniforms and it doesn't seem to have caused mass hysteria."
He didn't have anything to say to that. A real smile overtook the fake one on my lips. Take that.
My victory was short lived as I turned my attention back to the crowd and my eyes caught sight of a flash of golden hair. My breath caught in my throat.
When the figure turned back around, I let out a shaky breath of relief. It wasn't Angelo, just some other random blond man bending down to place a small child on his shoulders.
I wanted to laugh at my own paranoia, but I couldn't shake the lingering feeling that I would find Angelo in the crowd below, if I only dared to look hard enough for him. But did I dare?
My eyes had already begun searching through the crowd of their own volition before the thought had even finished forming in my mind.
I spent the rest of the rather lengthy speech scanning faces in the crowd. When I recognized the tone change that signified that my father was wrapping up, I was close to admitting defeat. It was an impossible task anyway, with so many people crammed into the city square. Just as I was turning my attention back to my father, movement near an alleyway caught my attention.
There was no blond hair visible, but as the man pulled the hood from his face to look at the balcony I stood on, I caught the unmistakable flash of electric blue eyes. His expression was unreadable as those eyes met mine and held my stare. I couldn't look away, couldn't even blink as my blood rushed to my ears, drowning out the end of my fathers speech and the eruption of applause from the audience.
The night before, when I had seen Angelo sitting at that table, I had been shocked. Afterward, while I cried into Franco's chest, I thought that I was mourning what Angelo was supposed to be to me, what he could never be. But now, staring at him across a sea of people, I realized that it wouldn't be enough for me to simply grieve the mate bond I never gave a chance to grow between us. I needed to understand why, despite my decision to never see him again only minutes earlier.
For his victims as well as for myself, I needed to know.
His gaze shifted to where my father was stepping away from the podium, then back to me. He kept his eyes locked with mine as he nodded his head in the direction of the alley behind him, then disappeared into the darkness. I understood his silent request. Because I knew he was still watching, hidden within the shadows, I gave an almost imperceptible nod before exiting the balcony behind my father.
The relief I felt when our party did not linger in the city hall was short-lived as we returned to the transports and began our venture back. The short drive felt like a lifetime and I found it difficult not to tap my foot impatiently– something my parents sitting across from me would definitely not appreciate. When the transports finally rolled to a halt right where they had been parked that morning beside the fountain, it was all I could do not to leap from my seat and bolt out the door. Instead, I sat, not so patiently, while my father helped my mother exit, then followed behind her.
I excused myself quickly, before anyone could engage me in conversation and walked as fast as I dared without raising suspicion back up the many flights of stairs to my rooms. I was already unfastening the clasps on the dress as I crossed my foyer into my bedroom. I tore the blasted thing from my body and replaced it with a pair of black leggings and a loose navy shirt. My heels were discarded for my favorite leather boots, and I tossed the tiara rather unceremoniously onto the vanity. There was no time to pull the numerous gemstones from my hair, so I settled for fastening a large cloak over my shoulders, and pulling the hood over my head.
The walk back to the city felt much longer than it usually did. While only half an hour had passed in total, I found myself worried that Angelo would not still be waiting for me as I neared the city square once more.
When I stepped into the dank alleyway and found no signs of anyone hiding within the darkness, I thought my fears were coming true. I let out a small sigh.
Only moments after the sound left my mouth, there was movement atop the tall stacks of crates to my left and, then Angelo was landing gracefully in the alley beside me. Why do I never look up?
In my surprise, I had taken several steps back, and the hood had fallen from my head. Our eyes met and, as always I was momentarily paralyzed by the magnetic pull of the mate bond.
He seemed to break from the trance first, stepping forward until he was right in front of me. I didn't resist as he grabbed hold of my arm through the thick fabric of my cloak and pulled me deeper into the alley, hiding us from onlookers behind the crates he had previously been lounging atop. He released my arm, but he didn't step back. I found my gaze once again ensnared by his. We had never stood so close before and, though I knew I was supposed to resist the pull to him, I found it quite difficult to focus on that when I could still feel the warmth from his hand lingering on my cloak.
My mouth opened to ask one of the countless burning questions running through my head, but he hushed me quietly. I stood frozen as the hand that had been on my arm grabbed hold of my fallen hood. "Last night caused quite the ruckus," He murmured softly as he gently pulled the fabric back up to cover my very expensive hair, "there are too many ears out today for us to talk." When he finished, his hand lingered on the edge of the fabric, near my face as if he were tempted to reach out and touch it.
I blinked. "Then why–" He cut me off before I could finish asking why he had made me meet him if we couldn't speak.
"Meet me by the willow tree tomorrow afternoon."
I knew I should tell him no, knew that I shouldn't have even gone back to the city to see him in the first place, but I still wanted my answers. I wanted to understand why he was doing what he was doing so bad, my throat was burning with the effort to hold the questions back from spilling out, despite his warning that someone could be listening.
He must have seen the hesitation written on my face. He sighed, catching the lone curl that was still protruding from the cover of my hood and tucking it softly back behind the clasp at my neck, his fingers brushing lightly against my jaw for the briefest of moments in the process. My breath caught in my throat. "Promise that you'll meet me."
Just the brief contact had my entire body burning like an inferno. The skin of my jaw continued to tingle in memory of his touch long after he had pulled away and all hope for logical thought disappeared as I became completely consumed by his presence. He brought his gaze back up to mine, but even without their hypnosis, I would have done anything he wanted right then in that moment. I nodded my head once.
His hands rose one more time to adjust the cloak, tugging it down until it disguised my face better. "Promise me." His voice was a soft caress of its own, though it still held a demanding edge to it.
All I could focus on was how close his hands were to touching my face again. His fingers only needed to reach out an inch farther to brush up against my skin once more. Some part of me knew that he was purposefully using the mate bond to manipulate me into agreeing to his demands against my better judgement, but the knowledge didn't make it any easier to resist. "I promise," I breathed, voice barely above a whisper.
"Good," he said, stepping back, his hands withdrawing from my face with the movement. I stifled the disappointment that formed in my chest as he pulled away. "Now do me a favor and walk straight back to your castle. Keep your head low, don't look anyone in the eye, and don't talk to anyone." He hesitated, before adding, "Please," with a crooked smile that set my heart racing.
With the distance between us, my senses were slowly returning to me, and I was tempted to do the opposite of what he asked just to be contrary, but there was a seriousness to his tone that gave me pause. I swallowed my pride and did as I was told.
Just this once.
~*~*~
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