"I've got it," Rafe said in a quiet voice, taking the keys from my trembling fingers and quickly cycling through them until the door gave a satisfying click as the lock disengaged. He held out a hand to stop me when I tried to rush past him, but I just shoved him aside and ducked through the doorway.
"Jordy," I breathed in relief, spotting the dark-haired man curled up against the far wall. His whole cell was totally empty. No bed, no chair, nothing. Just an empty cell with a broken prince inside.
Fuck. This was all my fault.
"Go away, Violet," he groaned in a pain-filled voice. "I don't want you here."
I swallowed past the lump of agony his words hit me with and crouched in front of him. "Well, too fucking bad. We're getting you out of here."
Jordan didn't even raise his head, just exhaled a long, defeated sigh. "Stop doing this, Violet," he whispered in a cracked and raw voice. "He's only going to hurt you more. Go away. Go back to him before he knows you're here."
"We don't have time for this," Rafe hissed at my back. "The fighting will be here any second now. We need to go now."
"Go then!" Jordan shouted, finally lifting his face and showing deep, shadowed bruises. "Leave! But don't drag Violet down with you. Uriel knows you're going to try this. It's all a fucking trap. You're walking right into his trap. He's going to catch you, and then he'll hurt her again." His words dissolved into unhinged laughter and I didn't think twice.
I punched him in the side of the head, knocking him out.
"Come on," I told Rafe, swallowing all my emotions and hardening my resolve. "Let's get him out of here."
Rafe didn't say a word, just slung his best friend's unconscious body over his shoulder and carried him out of the cell.
The way was clear as we hurried back outside, no guards having yet found the bodies of the ones we'd dispatched, and in just a few quick minutes, we were in one of the Society's black armored vehicles. Rafe drove, and I sat in the back seat with Jordan's head in my lap.
"I'm so sorry, Jordy," I whispered, gently running my fingers through his short hair. In the light of day, I could see the marbling of old and new bruising all over his face. I knew all too well that the rest of his body would echo the same effect.
Rafe glanced at me in the mirror, and I met his eyes.
"It'll be okay, Violet," he told me in a gruff voice. "Jordy's a tough fuck. He only stayed to try and keep you safe. Stupid bastard."
A flood of emotions welled up in my throat, and I bit the inside of my cheek. Words were too hard, so I just nodded back. He'd better be okay. He had to be. Because without Jordan... Rafe and I were doomed. We were just too fucking damaged.
Chapter 11
It took several hours of driving, an exhaustive check point with the Society—the good part, not the faction run by Uriel—and a short helicopter ride, but around midnight, the three of us finally reached Rafe's parents’ palace.
"How's your dad?" I asked him in a quiet voice as we waited for the medics to unload Jordan from the chopper. He was still unconscious, but this time it was a sedated sleep, which the Society medical team had assured us would just help him heal from the multiple injuries he'd sustained in Uriel's care. Fortunately, though, most of the damage was superficial and would heal in weeks, if not days.
The damage done to his mind would be another issue to address, and not something we could assess until he was awake.
"He's doing okay," Rafe replied, swiping a tired hand over his face as the medics carried Jordan ahead of us up the front steps of the palace. Some staff hurried out to help, but King Felipe was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Queen Jacinta or the twins. "He's still recovering, but it sounds like it wasn't as bad as we thought."
Relief hit me like a ton of bricks. Ever since Rafe had said we were returning to his parents palace, I'd fretted over how to ask about King Felipe. He was so kind to his kids—to all of us—and he was exactly the type of leader we needed. He was the one who could fix the mess we'd found ourselves in, I just knew it.
Reaching out, I linked my fingers together with Rafe's. "That's good. I'm so glad he's going to be okay."
Rafe's steps paused, and he frowned down at our linked hands. "Yeah," he agreed, sounding wooden. He extracted his hand from mine—causing my heart to sink straight to my feet—and turned his face back to the huge palace. "We should get some sleep. I told the staff not to wake my mother, so we can fill them in on everything in the morning."
“Wait!” I shouted after him, halting him in his tracks. “You haven’t given me anything. What happened after we were all taken? How many people died in the earthquake? What about Mattie and Nolan? Are they okay? Rafe, please, tell me something useful. I’m losing my fucking mind with worry here.”
He turned slightly back toward me, his jaw tense. “Lots of people died. Lots of monarchs died. It was a total fuck up of epic proportions.”
I held my breath, my heart in my throat.
“The twins are fine. They’re back at Arbon being their usual annoying selves.”
My whole body sagged with relief at the good news, but apparently that’s all Rafe felt like sharing with me. He followed after the medics without another word, and my heart sank. Things had definitely changed between us. Because of Uriel? Or because of my unwitting involvement in a resistance faction that almost killed his father and his best friend in a matter of weeks? Oh, not to mention his fiancée, but I doubted he was all that distraught over losing Claudette.
Fucking shit. Uriel had a lot to answer for the next time we crossed paths. I wasn't stupid or naive enough to think he'd died in the Society "cleaning house" at his camp. My sensei was like a cockroach. The whole planet could implode and he'd still be alive, crawling around in the rubble.
I caught up to Rafe as he finished directing the medics to one of the guest rooms where Jordan could be set up.
"I guess... I'll see you in the morning then," I mumbled when he made no acknowledgement of me standing there. It made me feel scared and guilty and worried and... and angry as hell. Did he think I'd somehow done this all on purpose? That I’d been involved in the Society all along?
Because if so, he could go straight to—
"Violet," Rafe called out after me as I started up the stairs. I was heading for the room I'd stayed in with Mattie when we'd all come out for that blissful week before the Spring Ball.
I hesitated on the stairs, my hand on the rail as I turned back to look at him. I thought maybe he was going to apologize for his cold attitude or maybe just make an excuse that he was over-tired and stressed... or something. But nope, not Rafe.
"The guest rooms are all full," he told me, his voice clipped and unemotional. "Extra medical staff are here to care for my father and Mom didn't want them too far away, so she put them in the guest wing. You can sleep in my room tonight. We'll sort something else out in the morning."
My brows shot up, but he ignored me. He just brushed past and led the way up the curving staircase without another word until we reached the ornate double doors at the end of the third-floor corridor.
By the time he was holding the door open, indicating that I enter, I was fuming mad.
"What?" he snapped as I stomped past him with folded arms.
I spun around, arching a brow as he stood in the doorframe—not inside nor outside the room, as if he didn't want to be shut in with me but also didn't want to let me out of his sight.
"What's going on here, Rafe?" I demanded, feeling my anger bubbling over. "I get that you're pissed at me, but can you spell out why exactly? Because I'm too damn tired to spend the rest of the night assuming the worst."
His brows hitched, and he took one step into the room. Enough that the door could swing shut behind him. "You've got that look on your face, Vi," he commented, his sapphire eyes running over me in a way that made me feel totally seen, stripped naked, and judged. "The look that you get when you’re in the fight arena. You want to hit me, don't you?"
He had totally ignored my question, and I wasn't sure I really cared. There was a flicker of something in his eyes that I grabbed onto like a life raft. Something more than just cool apathy or frustration. At the end of the day, I'd rather spend forever locking horns with Rafe than have him ignore me like I didn't matter.
"You're damn right, I do," I snarled back. "What the hell is going on? This cold, aloof bullshit you're rocking today doesn't suit you, Rafe."
His eyes flickered, and the corner of his lips pulled up in a mocking smile. "So? Hit me, Violence. Give me your best shot."
I knew he was just taunting me, making some point that I was totally missing. But he should know better by now. There was no dare I wouldn’t take.
My balled fist struck out, catching him across the face and causing him to stumble back a step from the sheer force of it. Yep, he definitely hadn’t expected me to follow through. Arrogant idiot.
"Fuck!" he exclaimed, rubbing his cheek and glaring at me with fire-filled eyes. A second later, he launched forward and I braced myself for retaliation. I'd been wanting to pair my skills against his in a real fight for ages, and even if this wasn’t exactly how I imagined it happening, I wouldn’t back down.