Chapter 7: Crimes of Punishment

The sun was just beginning to sink in the sky as Aster and Rowan made their way up the hill toward the palace.

The warmth of the early summer afternoon heated Aster’s skin, but it was a welcome feeling. Despite the ache in his feet and the sweat on his brow, he felt like he understood a lot more about this place, even just from one day in the city.

He only wished the feeling could’ve lasted.

The palace gates were visible just over the next hill when things went extremely wrong. The cityfolk went about their usual afternoon business, and Aster and Rowan walked shoulder-to-shoulder as they made their way through the crowds. The only warning that something was wrong was a faint sour scent wafting through the air. Seconds after it hit Aster’s nose, the humble peace around him shattered.

Snarls ripped through the air. He heard someone scream, and then another person shoved past him, pushing him away from Rowan. He rammed into someone else before he could regain his balance, sending him spiraling into the foul-smelling frenzy.

At the center of the sudden unbridled chaos, locked in a vicious street fight, were likely two Alphas. The smell of their pheromones choked the crowd, causing the surrounding citizens to either join in the fight, or flee in terror. Human fingernails were replaced with flesh-ripping claws, pupils and irises enlarged, and canine fangs elongated and sharpened. Blood spattered on the cobblestone.

Aster felt the wind knocked out of him as he was finally shoved off his feet, some random Alpha towering over him. He held his arm up in defense, but a hard fist connected with the Alpha’s face. The force of the punch sent him stumbling away, and Rowan reappeared in his place. He bent quickly to scoop Aster off the ground, hoisting the majority of his weight over his shoulder as he fought their way out of the frenzy.

Then, as quickly as it started, the crowd cleared, leaving only the Alphas that started the fight still locked in battle. Aster watched as several knights in black cloaks charged down the street past them, heading for the fight. Rowan stopped as the crowd thinned out completely, and set Aster on his feet in front of him. He was still holding his shoulders, ensuring he could shield him if anything else happened.

“You okay?” Rowan asked, his voice a low rumble.

Aster, barely aware of how agape his mouth was, nodded quickly and turned back to look. The knights of the City Watch had pulled the bleeding Alphas off each other, and were in the process of wrestling them to the ground.

“What’s going on here?!”

The crowd on the street parted as a woman in City Watch armor marched toward the subdued offenders. Her armor was a little different than the others—where they all had black plating and the same shapes, hers carried a gold paulder on her right shoulder. Messy orange hair sat tied in a bun on the back of her head, and a lone blue eye glared at the sources of the fight. She came to a stop in front of them, which was when she noticed Rowan.

“Ser Rowan, I thought I might run into you today,” she growled. “Did you see what happened here?”

“No, Commander,” Rowan answered, holding Aster a bit more tightly. “I was just showing Lord Silvercrest the city.”

Aster flinched at the honorific title, but he didn’t protest. He looked over his shoulder at the Commander, who gaped at him in shock. Then anger flared across her face, and she whirled around to confront the offending Alphas pinned down at her feet.

“One of you say how this began, this instant!” she snarled, “You’ve endangered our King’s future mate!”

A tense silence hung in the air, and Aster tried to lean over Rowan’s arm to see around the Commander. Neither of the Alphas looked happy. The one on the left still had his fangs and claws out, and the one on the right bared his teeth in defiance.

“Why should it matter?!” spat the defiant Alpha. “We’ll be hauled off to the dungeons or lose our heads in the streets for one thing or another, won’t we?! Why should we care if some prissy little Omega was around?!”

When the guard holding him delivered a swift kick to his side, Aster fought against Rowan’s hold on him. “Hey! Stop!”

“Aster,” Rowan warned, his voice low. “We should go.”

Though Rowan was far stronger than him, Aster managed to slip out of his grip. He stormed over to the guards, ignoring the inherent risk of being an Omega among a group of tense Alphas. The City Watch Commander glared at him and didn’t back down.

“You should listen to your guard, My Lord,” the Commander said. “This is no place for someone like you. These Alphas must be taught how to behave.”

“And by what teaching method, Commander?” Aster demanded. “Am I to believe that you and your Watch go around abusing the people of this city?!”

The Commander snorted in amusement, and reached down to her belt. She removed a brown leather bullwhip with several long tails from its strap at her waist, and unfurled it. The leather hit the ground with a barely audible tap, but Aster’s eyes couldn’t leave the ends of the tightly-wound weapon. The tails were well-worn, and where the leather had frayed, he could see just the hints of dried blood. His stomach churned at the sight.

“You may believe whatever you want, Little Princeling,” the Commander said smugly, “But where our citizen’s safety is concerned, there must be consequences for starting senseless street fights. And if they are not of any mind to think of anyone’s safety, then they are of no mind to be trusted with verbal warnings.” She looked past Aster to Rowan, and smirked knowingly. “Isn’t that right, O’ Mighty Enforcer?”

Aster’s heart dropped into his stomach as the realization hit him. He turned to look at Rowan, his eyes wide and his throat closing up. This was what Darreth meant when he said Rowan helped “keep the peace” in Lupercal. This was what it meant to be an “Enforcer”—to abuse people and cause more fear and pain.

What made it worse was the fact that Rowan wouldn’t look at him. He scowled at the ground, fists clenched and silent. He didn’t even try to deny it. Aster wanted to be sick.

The Commander held the whip out to Rowan. “Why don’t you show the King’s little bride who you really are, Black?”

“I have nothing to do with this, Krysha,” Rowan growled. “Have your men do it.”

Commander Krysha scowled at him, and threw the whip at his feet. “Do it! Or the King will hear of your refusal to act when his fiancé was at stake!”

Aster pleaded with his eyes for Rowan to stay where he was. When Rowan’s gaze lifted to meet his, he almost seemed sad for a moment before he steeled himself and glared at the Commander. He bent to pick up the weapon, and Aster watched in horror as he walked past him.

“That’s what I thought,” Commander Krysha snorted, taking Aster’s arm and pulling him back away from everything. “Don’t look away, Princeling. This is who your ‘Protector’ truly is.”

Aster wanted to rip his arm away and run as he watched the knights of the Watch rip off the shirt of the first offending Alpha and hold him between them by his arms. He wanted to curl into a ball and cover his eyes and ears as the Alpha struggled and cried for mercy. He wanted to scream as Rowan raised the whip over his head.

But as the whip’s crack echoed between the buildings, all Aster could do was watch in stupefied horror.

***

Now, he’d truly done it. Everything was ruined.

Though it happened hours ago, Rowan knew the entire encounter would stay with him for the rest of his life: the screams of the poor Alphas, the cracking of the whip, the sight of crimson spattering the street, the smug smirk that he wanted to claw off of Krysha’s face…

But most of all, he felt the lasting burn of guilt inside his chest, as he remembered seeing Aster’s tear-filled, horrified eyes. The person he loved most in the world had to witness the monster he’d become.

While it might have been easy to blame Krysha for making him participate, it truly wasn’t only her. She knew how he would respond, because she knew how his relationship with the King was. If she’d told her foul lie, and Darreth thought Rowan was neglecting his duties in protecting Aster, Aster would be ripped away from him. At that moment, he thought that was the worst possible thing that could happen.

Oh, but this was so much worse.

Aster hadn’t spoken to him since it happened. Hadn’t even looked at him. A gaping void of silence settled between them, and though they walked only a few feet apart, Rowan felt as if there was now a bottomless chasm between them. He’d seen the truth, there was no denying it now, and any hope Rowan had to gain back that love he once knew had spiraled down in flames into the endless dark.

He brought Aster to his chambers, keeping his eyes downcast and head lowered in shame. He didn’t think Aster could see how guilty he felt—but how could he, when those beautiful, starry blue eyes were still being kept from him?

They stood alone in the hallway for a moment, until Rowan took his post beside the door, quietly. Aster pulled the door open but hesitated in entering. In the tense silence, Rowan finally looked at him.

“...I’ll be standing guard out here if you need me.” He said softly.

“...does this door have a lock?” Aster asked, coldly.

Rowan’s throat tightened. “Yes.”

“And the terrace doors?”

“...yes.”

“Then I won’t need you to guard me. Good night.”

If those words weren’t enough to break his heart, the sound of the heavy door slamming and the lock clicking into place sure did the trick.

He deserved this. He should have gone home years ago. He shouldn’t have been here—he shouldn’t be a monster. He never wanted this, but this was what he got for preserving himself that day, rather than dying in battle like his fellow warriors. Death would have been so much better than this.

He remained silent as he took off his glove with his teeth and turned to the stone wall beside the door. With his bare fist, he channelled all the rage and frustration into a full-force punch. He heard something crack as pain shot up his arm and through each finger; any noise he would’ve made was muffled by the glove in his mouth. When he pulled his hand back, he left streaks of blood and traces of skin behind.

He breathed shakily through the pain, his bare hand dripping on the floor as he resumed his watch. Even if Aster didn’t want him here, he couldn’t shirk his duty.

He didn’t even know how long he waited there—the pain seemed to make time stretch on longer. It must have been a while because he heard the chime of the castle temple’s bells ringing the evening.

Soon after, he saw someone come shuffling down the hall toward Aster’s door. He kept his good hand on his sheathed sword, until out of the shadows of the torchlight emerged the King himself. Rowan relaxed just a little, but he kept his hand on his sword.

“Rowan—” he slurred and dragged out his name, very obviously drunk. “Good, you’re here! Is my cute little thing here?”

Rowan’s hand clenched around his sword’s hilt, but Darreth was far too inebriated to notice. “Yes, My King. He’s gone to bed for the evening. He was upset by something that happened earlier.”

“Upset? Noooo,” He waved his hand sloppily, shaking his head. “I’ll fix it! Don’t want him to be upset... Why don’t you go to bed?”

Rowan frowned. “It’s my duty to protect him, Your Grace.” And every fibre of his being wanted to cut this drunken fool’s throat because his instincts were screaming at him that Darreth was the biggest threat to Aster right now.

“You’ve been protecting him all day!” Darreth snorted, clapping a hand on Rowan’s shoulder. “I’ll protect him tonight, don’t worry. Go get some sleep! By order of the King!” His foot slipped on the pool of blood Rowan’s hand left behind, and instead of asking where it came from, he looked down at it quizzically. Then, unceremoniously, he said: “Ew.”

Rowan’s blood boiled as he watched Darreth pound on Aster’s door, but he couldn’t disobey an order from the King. Even when he was in this state, he was quite wrathful, and Rowan would do anything to save Aster from that wrath.

Even if Aster hated him, he was keeping his oath.