Page 77 of A Silent Prodigy for the Lycan Princess
“Why don’t you go upstairs and get some fresh air in the garden?” Emilien offers him.
“I don’t need—”
“Please,” I say. “It’s okay. The only trouble would be if you threw up here.”
“He is right,” Emilien says. “Arden and I will handle it.”
Gustave looks like he is about to argue, then his gaze falls onto Claire again, and he lets out a shaky breath. He nods at us and dashes outside.
I grab my phone meanwhile and take a photo of Claire’s wrist. “It looks like part of a rune,” I say.
“Here,” Emilien says, turning her arm for me to see the tiny holes poked into it. “She carries the same small wounds on other parts of her body too.”
“What did they do to her?” I ask in disbelief, while taking a couple of more photos.
“Could it be needles?”
“If it were needles, they had to be quite big,” I admit. “Not that it’s impossible. They could have extracted blood from here, hence the blood loss.”
“That’s the only thing that makes sense,” Emilien mutters while taking yet another photo.
“I don’t like that we need to leave her behind,” I say. “Here with the humans, they are seeing her as a scientific experiment because her body is so durable even in its death.”
“I will tell Eric about it,” Emilien promises. “I’m sure he will think of something. Maybe someone can pose as a long-lost relative. And then, we can finally give her the funeral she deserves.”
I nod. “That sounds good.”
“Why don’t you go and check on Gustave while I finish here?” he offers. “I think we have seen everything we needed to see.”
“I was about to suggest something similar,” I admit. “But I didn’t want to leave you here.”
“Don’t worry. Just go.”
I take him by his word, leave the room and walk back the way we came from. Once upstairs, it’s still quiet and completely deserted. Seems like we are still on our own. I don’t find Gustave immediately until the door to the restroom creaks. I wait for him to come out, noting how he is still looking pale.
“Are you alright?” I ask quietly.
“I am so sorry,” he mutters. “I left you alone down there.”
We walk outside in silence and sit down on a bench, waiting for Emilien. “You weren’t prepared,” I assure him.
“You weren’t either,” he says. “Yet you managed to put your own feelings and discomfort aside.”
“I’m not sure if that’s always a good thing,” I admit. “I’ve just learned to block it all out.”
“Was I part of the reason for it?” he asks quietly. “For you being able to do that?”
I think of the way my father neglected me and how he used to insult me. He didn’t hit me a lot, but his words cut deep, and then I went to school, and their words cut similarly deep.
“I’m so sorry,” Gustave says sadly, when I don’t answer.
“How come you aren’t an asshole?” I ask him. “I thought you would be, but you are surprisingly sensitive and empathic.”
“In school, I just wanted to belong,” he admits. “I was an idiot. I followed the cool kids because I thought it would make me cool too, but it just made me look pathetic. I—I was utterly shit. If my father knew, he would have kicked my ass.”
“You are a beta’s son, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” he says. “Only the second son, though.”
