Page 119 of The King's Maiden

“What the hell, Landon?”

My brain only recognized the bruising—it didn’t care that they were different. It didn’t matter that Landon had barely left a mark. It only remembered the last time I woke up to find my neck stained with bluish-purple marks.

It only mattered that the next thing I discovered was that my dad had died, and as soon as the words left the doctor’s mouth, everything that happened as I hung upside down and got those marks on my neck came flooding back to me.

And that I’d relived my dad dying in front of me over, and over, and over again until the nurse sedated me.

My brain only knew I couldn’t breathe without him back then.

And I couldn’t—I still fucking couldn’t—breathe without him now.

“My bag,” I coughed out the words, pushing the air through a straw for how tight my airway had constricted. “I need my bag.”

Landon stepped out of the bathroom doorway as quickly as he could. I rushed past him, searching the room. Hunting under the chaise. Under the covers on the bed.

But I couldn’t find it anywhere.

“Quinn,” Landon said calmly, following me to the closet. He grabbed my wrist as I searched blindly for the light switch. “Quinn, this is a panic attack.”

I wheezed, yanking my arm out of his grip. When I wheezed again, he pressed his eyes shut. His features drew in tightly while my mouth and eyes gaped at him. I pointed to my neck, clutching at my throat.

He opened his eyes and took my face in his hands. “Take a breath, Maiden.” His voice reverted to the harsher boom from the Round Tableau, shouting a demand that I had to obey.“Breathe,Quinn!”

I gasped.

The noose around my neck unwound. The memory of the seatbelt faded. And the inky black haze obscuring my vision cleared to a dark amber ray of light. I collapsed forward, resting my head on his chest.

“That’s it.” He rubbed circles over my back. “You’re alright.”

“I need my?—”

“You don’t.” His arms tightened around me. “Quinn, this isn’t asthma. What you’re feeling right now…It’s trauma. You’rehaving panic attacks where you feel like you can’t breathe. And your inhaler makes you feel safe, but you don’t need it for this.”

My head shot up when he mentioned my asthma, and I barely took in what he said.

“How did you?—”

I didn’t know why I was surprised. Landon always knew. He saw everything I didn’t want him to see. I thought through every time I’d used my inhaler over the last month—the times I was scared or anxious, but I couldn’t figure out which one had given it away.

Was it that first night in the Round Tableau room? Or the bathroom at the party? Or one of the times he pushed me and tested my limits…

“Were you…” Realization struck me like the crack of a whip. “Were you purposefully trying to trigger me last night?”

He said nothing.

Andthattold me everything.

“How could you?—”

“You’re my Maiden, Quinn. And I told you last night I needed to test your limits and make sure you trusted me with them.”

He released me, stepping back and crossing his arms over his chest. The way he looked down at me made me see red.

“And I learned that you don’t.”

My voice rose, the pitch intensifying with my anger. “You put bruises on my neck to see if I trusted you? Do you realize howinsanethat sounds?” I shouted at him, but he didn’t react. “You think because you didn’t mean to hurt me that makes it okay?”

“I did it because it was necessary, Quinn. And from what I recall, you weren’t hurt last night. Scared, maybe. But not hurt or you would’ve used your safe words. You and I both know you’d have no issue using those if you needed them.”

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