Curious, he pried her arms back and looked directly into those violet eyes to see them glassy with tears.
“Are you crying because of the rat? Truly? Are you that terrified?”
Sofia opened her mouth as if to speak, but all that came out was a croak.
He wanted her desperately.
Obsessively.
And he was beyond angry that he felt that way — that all she needed to do was to stare at him, and everything he’d built for ten years was suddenly on the chopping block. With a curse, Ash peeled her from his body and spat, “Can’t say I’m surprised. You’re a princess. I doubt you’ve ever even seen a rat up close, let alone poverty or dirt. Tell me, do you want me to act the lady’s maid too? Shall I fluff your pillow after I dispose of the rat? Perhaps you’d like me to stoke the fire? Bring you warm chocolate?” The more he spoke, the more angry he became. But at least the anger made the lust disappear; it made him feel in control — better. “Spoiled little princess—”
Sofia slapped him before he could continue. It stung like hell, but he refused to appear affected. “Touchy subject, hmm?”
“Get out,” Sofia ordered, pointing to the door.
“But what about the rat?” Ash drawled. “How are you to possibly go on when—?”
“I said get out!” Sofia shrieked.
Her raised voice was all it took for all seven of her guard to come barreling in the doorway, pistols and one sword drawn. Truly, did the man need to carry his sword everywhere?
“Princess!” David, one of the older, more reserved guards pushed to the front of the group of men. “How can we be of assistance?”
“Rat.” Ash rolled his eyes. “She’s discovered a rat.”
As if he’d just announced that Sofia had, in fact, discovered an assassin in her room, rather than a rat, all seven men fell silent, their faces white.
“So…” Ash looked around. “Is it safe to assume the fear of rats is Russian-bred–and-born.”
“I’ll take care of it.” David stepped forward, his head still bowed.
Madness. It was utter madness!
Ash rolled his eyes just as Gerald stepped toward him and whispered, “Dungeon. She was placed in the dungeon for three months.”
“Who?” Ash turned to face the man. “Who was?”
“Gerald…” Sofia shook her head. “…leave it. Please. After all…” She turned a haughty eye to Ash. “…I’m a spoiled princess, remember? You are dismissed.”
“You—” Ash spat. “—are dismissing me?”
“I’ll call for you when I need that warm chocolate.” Sofia’s voice was hard. “Until then, kindly remove yourself from this room while my protectors remove the hairy intruder.”
With one last glare, Ash marched out of the room and slammed the door behind him.
Whiskey.
He needed whiskey.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Funny, my thoughts used to be consumed with blood, death, darkness— I hated it. Now? Now they’re consumed with lavender, violet eyes, and tears. Damn, but I miss the blood. —The Grimm Reaper
ANGER COURSED THROUGH HER body in waves. Sofia clenched her hands into tiny fists as her seven protectors scurried about the room and disposed of the rat.
To think, at one point it had almost seemed that Ash had been… attracted to her, protective even. And now? Now she knew his opinion of her without a doubt. He thought her ridiculous, spoiled, stupid.
To say the evening had not gone as planned was a gross understatement. All Sofia had wanted was a warm bath and meal. Instead? She had been nearly accosted by a hairy rat and an assassin within minutes of one another.
Then again, one of the previously mentioned would have been welcome.
She shivered as Gerald disposed of the rat and headed toward the door. “Anything else you need, Princess?” His deep brown eyes were etched with concern. Sofia self-consciously pulled the blanket tighter around her body and shook her head.
With a bow, Gerald left, shutting the door behind him.
Mere seconds went by before another soft knock jolted her to her feet.
“Enter.”
Benedict slowly made his way into the room, the quietest of the guard, also her same age. He kept his eyes downcast and held out a blanket.
Confused at his presence and the odd gift, Sofia stepped forward and clenched the small blue blanket within her hands. It was beautiful and strangely familiar, and her initials were on it.
“’Twas yours,” Benedict whispered. “When you were but a child. Your father, his instructions before we fled… He wanted you to have something from when you were younger… happier… free.” His voice was low, tortured.
Sofia had never asked what haunted him so— It hadn’t seemed to be her business, but now she was curious. For he was one of the only guard who refused to meet her gaze.
“Th-thank you...” Sofia clenched the blanket to her chest. “…for bringing me this small comfort.”
Benedict nodded and slowly closed the door behind him.
Sofia lifted the blanket to her nose and inhaled. It smelled of cedar. It must have been taken from her box of treasures — the same box she had been forced to leave behind.
Tears threatened.
She would not cry — refused to give into the weakness that tears brought. Crying had never helped her when she was younger, and it wouldn’t help her now. No, the only thing that would help now would be to marry and quickly. The clock was ticking, her time was almost up. Her stepmother would know she was missing by now and would have sent someone after her.
Not just someone.
But him.
Her betrothed.
A man whom she had found in bed with her stepmother, minutes after her father’s passing. A man who wanted one thing — power.
Closing her eyes, she shut out the images of Peter and forced herself to focus on the positive.
Ash was bringing her to London.
And that was all that mattered.
The silence was chilly — as if all of the warmth had been sucked from the room the minute Ash had stepped out of it, which was ridiculous. She’d known him for a day.
And already her body was used to his presence.
Which wouldn’t do.
It was the ordeal that was taxing her emotions — not the man. Inhaling deeply, she moved to the fireplace and sat in the nearest chair. It was important she not forget her reasons for escaping the palace in the first place. The reason for her note to her cousin.
Her stepmother would stop at nothing to destroy her.