The Blood Ruby (The Arcane Artifacts #2)

Chapter 17 - Cinnamon Rolls

Laurent stood, hands clasped behind his back, to keep his fists from clenching. The window overlooked the garden below, giving him a view of Lily. She sat, sipping the iced tea Vittorio had brought her.

He'd given her an entire week, careful to keep his distance. Today was meant to be a test, to see how she would react to his presence. To see if she'd healed. Perhaps she had, but not towards him. Not even a little bit.

"Well?" he said.

Vittorio appeared beside him, mirroring his stance as they gazed into the garden below. "She has calmed down. Requested to help with dinner this evening. She likes lasagna, apparently."

A short silence fell between them.

"She was fucking panicked, Vittorio. The moment I stepped in the room, it's like she was being tortured all over again," he revealed. "I could barely stomach the scent of it, poisoning that lovely essence. She lasted all of five seconds in my presence before she fled. She can't even stomach me."

Vittorio heaved a long sigh.

"I've given her space. The journal seemed to help. I don't know what more to do."

"These things take time, Sire. She suffered a highly traumatic ordeal."

"I wasn't the one wielding the blade," he hissed.

"No, but you gave her to those who did."

He scrubbed a hand over his face, knowing all too well he was to blame. Zola had given Lily a brief explanation of what had happened, explaining that he'd never intended it to happen as it did. That Lily had never been meant to get farther than the road leading out towards the interstate.

"She suffered for years, Sire. Her entire childhood, all the way into adulthood, mistreated by foster families. We cannot begin to understand the depths of what she endured, even before reaching our doorstep..."

"I never would have guessed at her past," he mused, glancing at Vittorio. He'd taken one look at her and made his own assumptions. He'd been wrong, so horribly wrong. She wasn't a party girl. Wasn't spoiled. Wasn't any of the things he'd thought. Far from it. "There was so much fire in her, those first few days. She seemed...whole and sound. A fighter, through and through."

"Many of us carry wounds that cannot be seen on the surface. You know this better than most."

Laurent huffed. "Indeed."

"She showed some interest in piano," Vittorio mused.

"Yes. I took the liberty of gifting her some new music. I left it on her bed before seeking her out in the library."

"It will not be enough," Vittorio said. Laurent lifted a questioning brow, glancing towards him. "You must see it from her perspective, Sire. Her fear of you borders on terror. On the surface, she believes you will not hurt her again. Zola's reassurances have made progress on that front. But deep down, her trauma was because of you. That has left its mark. She's been passed from family to family. Always unwanted. She came here, and after two attempts at escape, she was handed to the witches, tortured."

He swore. Somewhere from the depths of his mind, the words she'd muttered to him, spoken in near unconsciousness, came back to him. "She said something, when I carried her into the house after Henrietta. She said that no one had ever wanted to keep her."

"And what did you say in return?"

His hands dropped, fists opening and closing. Below, Lily took another sip of her iced tea, oblivious to his prying eyes.

"I told her..." He swallowed. "I told her that I would never let anyone have her."

Vittorio swore under his breath. "And then you went and handed her over."