Chapter 19
Eleasar croid not brig herself to believe hom
Atonement The wounds he’d arved ms her very sont
how could one possibly Atone fre these?
she mrned without a word and shut the door behind her with a resounding thed. It wasn’t ac Roland came knocking, asking her to take supper, that she finally emerged
The moment she opened the door, she froze
Roland stood not in the finery of court, ban clad in a dark wooden tunic plain and without adornenit 1s sleeves were rolled to the elbow, revealing forearms marked by tratting, not
BRUTT
modest, be carefully arranged. The food, still steaming, bore the scent of
hape Every dish was something she loved
“The cooked this?” Her brow lifted, voice edged with disbelief.
Reprodded, “did. I didn’t want servants meddling tonight
Eleanor gave a cold laugh. “Learned it all for Cectly, didn’t
‘t you?”
His hand faltered, the faintest remor betraying his pain “Don’t speak her name,” he said boarsely
Please
But she meant to speak it
Over expper, her words came swift and sharp, each one a blade
*
you make her sweets too, back in crownspire?
you climbed the cliffs at Starfall Crag to fetch her those wild roses, did you wonder if you’d
call to your death?
When she saw bet satue carved over your heart did she weep with joy?!
Each question pierced deeper than the last
arfirst be flanched seath every biow. They cane silence And finally, mumb resignation. He no
Jonger spate, not moved to defend himseti
But Eleanor ? Ste found a bitter safe in 1
When stipper ended and she rose to have has voace stopped her
Tiran
He held our a whip old, heavy, worn at the handle
She stared at it “What is this?”
“Ninery nine lashes,” he said, voice ragged “The ones I owe you
Her lips curled into a scornful smile “And you think that makes us even?”
“No.” he said, looking up. His eyes were dark, hollow “It doesn’t But I deserve every one.”
From his coat, he produced a scroll and handed it to her. “My will. I’ve signed it. If you strike me
down tonight, the Crown won’t so much as question you
“All that Town-every
every parcel of land, every coin in the Thorne estate-will be yours.
Her hand trembled.
Then she laughed.
“A bit late for fairy tales, isn’t it, Your Highness? I’m no simpering maid to be won back with gold
and guilt.
“I speak the truth,” he murmured.
And then
Crack
The first lash struck
His body recoiled, a low grunt escaping his throat, but he did not fall. Nor did she hold back
The second. The third. Again and again, until the sound of leather splitting flesh echoed through the manor like the tolling of a bell Blood began to soak through his tunic, pooling at his feet.
Yet he stood, spine unbent, eyes closed
By the ninety ninth stroke, his back was a ruin of torn flesh and blood. He staggered bur did not
fall, even as crimson dripped steadily from his hem
Then, swaying, he reached for her hand.
She jerked back, eyes ice cold. “What now? Regret? You wish to strike me in return?”
Roland shook his head With the last of his strength, he cradled her wrist, brushing his thumb over
hey bruised skin “Does it hurt?” he whispered
Eleanor treze
A beat passed then she yanked her hand free, fury flaring. “You’re out of your mind. Utterly
depraved.”
His smile was fair, bloodless “So long as you’re not crying, I’ll gladly be both.
His gentleness still so maddeningly tender-made her sick
She turned to go
But again, his voice stopped her
“There’s one more thing
He handed her a dagger
She frowned. “What are you playing at now?”
He said nothing. Instead, he tugged open his bloodied shirt, revealing the familiar scar upon his
chest – the name Cecily, etched deep into his skin.
“Cut it out,” he said, voice hoarse as gravel.
Eleanor sneered. “Tired of wearing her devotion so close to your heart?”
Before she could throw the blade aside, Roland seized her hand–and plunged the dagger into his
own chest.
A sickening squelch.
Blood gushed at once
She gasped, tried to pull away, but he held her firm, body trembling, jaw clenched against the pain
“Go on
He guided her hand, slow and precise, as they carved the name from his own flesh tendon and skin peeling away beneath her fingers. Blood ran m rivulets, staining her gown, pooling at their
Teet
She shook from head to toe, breath caught in her lungs
Yet Ruland never faltered. As if pain no longer touched him
When the name was gone, he took her bloodied hand again. Still gripping the dagger, he carved s Dew word mito his torti exposed flesh Eleanor
The final stroke nearly undid him. He swayed, his skin deathly pale
But he smiled. He smiled at her
“Eleanor
he whispered, voice no louder than a prayer. “I love you.”
Then, at last, he collapsed.
The blood beneath him bloomed like a crimson rose, vast and damning
Eleanor stool motionless. The dagger slipped from her grasp, clattering to the floor.
She looked at the mess of blood, flesh, and love before her – what once had been a prince
And in that moment, she understood that the cruelest vengeance is not hatred… but watching the
one who wronged you offer their very heart-only to know you can never trust it again.
