Page 118 of Burdened Bonds
I look up and find Summer fucking Clutton-Brock sweeping down the grand staircase, dressed in a long gown that flows over the steps behind her. Her hair has been cut shorter, styled more elegantly, and she looks older, more sophisticated, like a damn film star.
She halts at the bottom of the stairs, curtsying a little to the Lord Protector like he really is royalty, and then sliding up to Tristan and curling her arm through his. He doesn’t move, doesn’t respond to her presence and my bond – so new, so raw – spits and claws inside me, desperate to scratch the silly bitch’s eyes out for daring to touch my mate.
My mate. But not mine. Hers now.
She smiles at me with more menace than I’ve ever seen before.
“So it’s true. She really has been captured.” She leans her head against Tristan’s shoulder and rests a hand against her chest. Her left hand. A massive diamond ring winking right at me. “That’s such a relief. This girl is dangerous. She bewitched Trissy-Boo, and attacked me because I’m his girlfriend. She’s a menace. I hope she’ll feel the full force of your justice, Christopher, for what she did to us.”
“I saved you,” I hiss at her, “from that dragon.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she trills. “Come on, Tristan,” she takes his hand in hers, “let’s go. I can’t stand to be breathing the same air as her.”
She tugs on his hand and he doesn’t move, doesn’t respond.
“Tristan,” his father says in a dark tone and he jerks to attention. “Go with your fiancée. I will deal with Rhianna Blackwaters.”
Without looking at me, without acknowledging me at all, he lifts his feet and climbs the stairs, Summer trotting alongside him. Halfway up the staircase, she peers over her shoulder at me, smirking, and if my arms weren’t bound, I’d finally blast that girl right to hell itself. After all, I’m certain that’s where she belongs.
My body continues to shake while my bond screams at Tristan to come back. He must be able to feel that. He must! And yet he keeps right on walking like he can’t feel me at all.
Finally, he’s gone completely, and the pain is so vast, my legs crumple beneath me and I sink to the floor.
“The truth can be cruel, Pig Girl, but it can also be necessary. You don’t belong in this family. You don’t belong to him. You belong in a cell. And tomorrow that is exactlywhere you will be taken.” He clicks his fingers and the soldiers remaining in the room jump to attention. “Take the girl to the east wing guest room and ensure she is heavily guarded.”
Two hands grip my upper arms and drag me to my feet.
“Until tomorrow, Pig Girl,” he says. “Sleep well.”
“Go to hell!” I snarl, fighting the men marching me towards the staircase. But it’s hopeless. I’m smaller than them, and without my magic, pretty pathetic. Christopher Kennedy knows it, smiling at me like a bat that intends to sink his fangs into my neck and suck me dry.
45
Rhi
I’m guessingthe east wing is reserved for guests like me. The guests that don’t matter. The ones considered unworthy, because it’s not a lot better than my dorm room back at the academy. A single bed lies against the wall, the mattress and duvet bare, the windows curtain-less and no rug resting across the hard wooden floor boards. The walls too are undecorated and no other furniture stands in the room.
When the door shuts and locks behind me, I sink to the ground, curling in on myself as best I can with my arms clamped behind my back.
The pain hurts worse than ever in my stomach. It’s been a day since I last drank some of Renzo’s potion and seeing Tristan like that seems to have stirred everything afresh. I press my eyes against my knees and try to breathe throughthe agony. I don’t know what’s worse. The incessant ache in my bond or the splintering sensation in my heart.
How can I have been so stupid? How could I have believed in him? He never meant it. He never really cared. I was just a passing distraction, a mere amusement.
Tristan is interested in his image and his status above all else. He was always going to end up with a girl like Summer, one he considered high status like himself, one who would help him in his ambitions. Someone like me was never going to fit the mold.
My bond tries to argue, insists I’m wrong. It reminds me that Tristan didn’t seem right just now. Not his usual self – not over-brimming with swagger and self-confidence. Something was wrong.
Is that true?
I’m not sure what to trust anymore. Especially when it comes to Tristan Kennedy.
Because he tells me that I’m nothing and that he despises me. He treats me like shit on the bottom of his shoe. And yet, he follows me into the wood, saves me from the werebeast – from Spencer. Then he tells me that we’re fated mates, destined to be together, that he’s changed his mind, that he wants me. He buys me dresses, asks me to the ball, throws himself in front of that cursed magic in order to save me. And then … and then he makes no effort to find me. No effort to reach me, to come for me and he stands in front of his father and says I mean nothing to him. Tells me he’s going to marry another girl.
Tristan Kennedy has given me serious whiplash and I’m surprised I don’t have a crooked neck and a nose bleed from it.
Well, if that’s the way he feels, so be it. I certainly won’t let him beat me now.
I roll up straight, ignoring all the pain, and assess my surroundings. The window is barred, confirming my suspicions that this is no ordinary guest room, and there’s nothing in the room that could help me. Nope, no helpful bolt cutters, no secret door. I’m locked in, unable to use my magic, and, if the shadows under the door are anything to go by, there are guards blocking my only exit.
