Chapter 8: Tipping Point

(WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS ATTEMPTED SEXUAL ASSAULT. Read at your own comfort.)

Aster was still recovering from the horror earlier that day when an insistent knock came at his door. He had already dressed for bed—in a comfortable satin nightgown—and was up in his study reading by lamplight. When the knocking wouldn’t stop, he sighed, marked his page, and threw on a dressing gown.

“Rowan, I told you I didn’t want you here!” He shouted through the door as he unlocked it, and realized his mistake as soon as he got the door open.

It wasn’t Rowan leaning in his doorway, it was King Darreth himself. Aster shrank back a little, embarrassed.

“Ah, forgive me, Your Grace, I did not think anyone else would come knocking this late—is…” he trailed off, peeking out of the room to find Rowan gone. Well, at least he respected his wishes. “Is there something wrong…?” he asked idly.

“I should be asking you that, Pretty Thing.” With the crackling rumble of his sultry utterance came the undeniable smell of spiced wine, and Aster had to stop himself from wincing at it.

“My King, what do you mean? You should be abed—” Now, he wished he hadn’t sent Rowan away.

“Nooo,” he drawled, reaching out a heavy hand to stroke his fingers down Aster’s face. “I wanted to see you. I heard there was a fight in town today, and you were there. Wanted to see if you were okay.”

So what, was this genuine concern? Aster highly doubted it. Now that he knew for sure that the King was hiding the true nature of his cruelty, he didn’t believe a word he said. But, on the other hand, if he let on that he knew Darreth to be untruthful, would he suffer a worse fate? He had to at least pretend to indulge his falsehoods for now. Aster stepped back from the door, allowing Darreth to stumble into the room and plant himself on the sofa in front of the fireplace.

“I appreciate your concern for my well-being, My Lord,” Aster began, tugging the dressing gown tighter around himself. “But I am fine, truly.”

Darreth shook his head, reaching out his hand for Aster’s. “Come.” He tugged Aster gently until he was sitting on the couch next to him. The King held his hands, gently massaging his palms with his thumbs.

“Talk to me,” Darreth pleaded, his voice a low rumble. “I want you to feel like you can trust me with how you think and feel.”

Aster leaned away from him just a bit but made no move to take his hands back. It felt… oddly comforting, somehow. Darreth was tender, even if he was still very much intoxicated.

He knew this man did horrible things, there was no denying that now. But what if, underneath all that, there was more? What if there was a part of him that could be this kind more often? What if there was a way Aster could bring that out of him? That would surely change things in Devali for the better, wouldn’t it?

“I…” Aster said finally, looking down and digging up every horrible thing he’d seen that day. His eyes began to water, and he couldn’t help a sniffle, either. “I just… I saw the most horrid things in the city today…”

Darreth looked at him, confused, but listening. “What’s upset you, Pretty Thing?” He raised a clumsy hand to wipe the tears from Aster’s cheeks.

“It’s…” Aster choked out. “It’s Rowan… I thought he was my friend, but I… I had to watch him abuse two people!” He figured that their trip to the brothel should be left out of this story.

“Abuse? Who?”

Aster looked down. “He… after the fight that broke out, the City Watch Commander showed up, and she… she made Rowan punish the Alphas, but they didn’t deserve it!”

“Ohh,” Darreth sighed, reaching for him. “Come here…”

He pulled Aster into a hug, and Aster admittedly pressed into the embrace. He couldn’t deny it felt nice to be held tenderly and treated with such intimacy. He hadn’t been held like this since he lost Jace. If he kept his eyes closed long enough, he could almost picture that it was his lost love holding him instead.

“I’m sorry you had to see that, my dear,” Darreth whispered into his ear. “Commander Krysha can be so intense… but she cares about the people of the city. Without her, the streets wouldn’t be as safe.”

And the image was ruined just as quickly. He was making excuses for the cruelty of his City Watch—Aster couldn’t believe this. “What… what about Rowan?” He asked. “How… can I trust someone that cruel to protect me?”

“Oh, come now,” Darreth chuckled. Aster felt his hand begin to stroke his hair. “Rowan isn’t cruel. He’s efficient, he’s obedient, but he only does what’s asked of him. He won’t hurt you, Pretty Thing.”

He wanted to believe that. He wanted to believe that Rowan was someone he could trust. But he couldn’t forget the dead-eyed look Rowan took on when he brought the whip down on those men. He hadn’t even looked human.

“He’s sworn to protect you, too.” The King’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts, just as his warm hand lifted his jaw to make Aster look up at him. “In the twelve years I’ve known him, he’s never broken an oath. You’ll be safe with him.”

Everything was upside down. Who was he supposed to trust? What was the truth, and what was a lie? For the first time in the few days since he left home, Aster actually felt like he was in over his head. It was all too much, and for the first time, he felt well and truly… alone.

That feeling was quickly ushered out as Darreth closed the distance between them and pressed their lips together. The pure shock prevented Aster from reacting right away, but once he finally got his head about him, he pushed back from the King and stood up off the couch.

“My King, what on Earth-?!” he demanded, pulling his robe tighter around him. “We’ve only just met!”

Darreth looked a little sheepish, but certainly not sheepish enough. “Well, we are officially betrothed, my dear. I apologize if I took you by surprise—please, come back and sit with me.”

With his ears burning, Aster turned away from him. “And will you try to kiss me again if I do?”

Darreth sighed, and Aster heard him get up from the couch. A second later, a pair of strong arms enveloped him and he was overwhelmed with the smell of cinnamon and musk.

“I only wish to adore you,” came the chilling voice in his ear. “You’re so beautiful… and you’ll be mine soon, anyway, so why pretend like we have to wait for our vows to be said…?”

Anger flared inside him, and after all, he’d been through in the past few days, he’d reached a tipping point. With all the strength he could muster with his arms pinned to his sides, he shifted his position enough to drive his elbow hard into Darreth’s ribs. The King fell away, wheezing and gasping and steadying himself on the arm of the couch.

Just when Aster thought he was free of the drunken buffoon, a harsh tug on the back of his sleep clothes threw him off-balance. Seconds later, he found himself on his back on the couch, with the King pinning his arms down. He had his wrists in a painful grip, and his eyes nearly glowed in the faint light of the room.

“Run from me all you want,” he growled. “You can’t keep me at arm’s length forever, my little Pretty Thing. The crown needs heirs, after all.”

Aster glared up at him, chest heaving as he fought against his own panic. He wasn’t sure what to say in his own defence, but in a fleeting moment of terror, he wished he hadn’t ordered Rowan to leave him alone. He wished he hadn’t opened the door. He wished he’d stayed home.

After a long moment, the King seemed to realize just how much he was scaring him. He leaned down to try and press another kiss to Aster’s lips, but the Omega turned his face away just in time for the kiss to land on his cheek instead. Then, he released him. Without another word, Darreth shuffled out of Aster’s room and shut the door behind him.

Aster laid there for—he wasn’t even sure how long. He listened to the room, where the only sounds were the crackling hearth, and the wind tapping against the glass of his windows. He listened to his own heartbeat pound in his ears as his body shook. Though he could feel himself trembling, he couldn’t move.

When he finally found himself again, he scrambled over to the bed. He didn’t know when he’d started to cry, but sobs wracked his body as he desperately tried to find the cord that summoned Rowan.

He needed him NOW.

***

Rowan sat upright in his bed when the little bell on the wall began jingling. At first, he thought it might have been his mind playing tricks on him, but then it rang again. He was up and out of bed in one second and throwing clothes on the next. He didn’t have time to lace himself into his armor, he only threw on his boots and grabbed his sword.

Something must’ve happened.

He sprinted through the castle, trying to ignore all the possible worst-case scenarios that played through his head. He knew Aster was likely still upset about what happened earlier that day—he couldn’t blame him—but if he was still upset and he rang for him anyway? If this was the day he died for finally taking the damned Tyrant King’s head from his shoulders, he would be alright with that.

He arrived at Aster’s door in record time and took a moment to catch his breath before he knocked.

The love of his life appeared moments later, and Rowan had to swallow a bristling anger. Aster had clearly been crying, and a quick glance at his wrist caused him to notice the fresh pink marks in the shape of a vice grip.

That instinct returned, that urge to roar like an animal and massacre everyone that had ever upset his Starboy. He wanted to cleave his sword through everyone in the world that allowed this to happen.

Instead, all he managed to growl was: “What did he do?”

Aster hiccuped and brought his hand up to cover his mouth as he clearly fought back more tears. He didn’t respond, but he let Rowan come in.

Rowan gave him plenty of space, resting his blade near the door and allowing Aster to say what happened in his own time. Aster sat down, rubbing his face, while Rowan went to the bookcase. A small compartment had been cut into the pages of one of the bigger books, and hidden inside was a full flask. When Rowan brought it to him, Aster looked up at him, confused.

“Maids left it in here for whoever the King was to marry,” Rowan mumbled.

His answer seemed to be enough for Aster, who took the flask silently and began drinking from it. Rowan refused to sit as he waited for Aster to explain. He simply moved from his side to stand beside the hearth. He didn’t want to crowd him.

Finally, Aster sighed shakily. “The King just tried to… prematurely consummate our marriage.”

All the fires in hell couldn’t be hot enough to describe the pure fury that exploded in Rowan’s chest, and the only thing that kept him from fully reacting was Aster’s hand that motioned for him to wait.

“He did not succeed,” Aster continued. “I believe he was not of the best mind—he smelled of spiced wine and slurred his words.”

Rowan snorted. Of course, he did. He went to cross his arms but flinched as he moved his injured hand too much. He’d bandaged it a while ago, but it hadn’t quite stopped bleeding. Aster seemed to notice it for the first time and looked concerned.

“What happened to your hand?”

Rowan shook his head. “Accident. What else happened?”

Aster didn’t seem convinced, but he didn’t press any further. He sighed and took in a deep breath. “He stumbled off, but… I came to an important realization. As this night began, I thought I could coax some decency out of him, to get him to be tender not only with me but with our people as well. But he demonstrated exactly what you told me when you showed me the brothel this morning—that his kindness is truly nothing but a lie.”

So… he did trust him, even just a little bit. That was more soothing than the greatest salve on his wounded heart.

“Rowan?”

“Yes?” He asked, trying not to look too excited.

Aster raised his eyes to him, and in the gravest voice, he uttered:

“I want to kill him.”