Suddenly, Verity's silence in the carriage, the sadness in her eyes, and the way she had refused to speak of the king all came rushing back to Rosalind.
Dear God… this was her story.
No wonder Verity didn't want to talk about it. It was the kind of pain that could crush anyone, and Rosalind finally understood why the woman had remained silent. To think she had carried all that suffering alone, with no one to share her burden, made Rosalind's heart ache in her chest.
She wouldn't even be surprised if Verity didn't want to escape either, with her kingdom taken, the person she loved lost, her life stolen, it was almost too much to bear. Rosalind felt an overwhelming urge to reach out, to hold Lady Verity, even though they barely knew each other. That alone was enough to stir a deep sympathy in her.
Alaric wasn't just cruel.
He was a monster.
And she couldn't imagine spending the rest of her life in these walls next to him because he disgusted her.
Beneath all that handsome charm, he was a true devil.
Yet, Alaric had believed that horrifying her would make her fear him completely, that it would crush any thoughts of escape.
He was wrong. Even though she was scared, she would do everything she could to leave, and she knew that with careful planning, she would escape the grasp of this monster.
No one could save Alaric now, he was beyond redemption.
"There's more to see, Rosalind, let's continue," he said, turning on his heels. She glared at his back so hard it could have cut glass, and then swallowed and followed quietly. She could hear her footman trailing behind, and for reasons she couldn't fully explain, that presence beside her offered a strange kind of comfort amidst all the tension.
Rosalind didn't bother looking at anything again, the horrors she had already witnessed had chilled her to the bone and she knew sleep would not come easily that night...all because of this mad king.
As they continued down the hall, Alaric glanced around with amusement while Rosalind walked silently, determined to avoid noticing anything… until a small fly hovered across her face. She swatted it away, and in that moment, her gaze shifted to a portrait.
Unlike the grotesque displays she had seen before, this caught her breath. A man in a magnificent robe stared back at her, his long black hair flowing, grey eyes striking. He had to be the most handsome person she had ever seen. She stopped in her tracks, captivated by his presence. There was something familiar in the way he looked at her, though she couldn't place a finger on it.
Alaric halted in his tracks, noticing that Rosalind had stopped following him. His eyes narrowed when he saw where her attention had settled, and his face twisted into a frown.
"What do you think of him?" he asked, now coming to stand beside her.
Rosalind couldn't tear her eyes away. The man radiated beauty, power, and an almost otherworldly aura. He seemed greater to her than Alaric himself.
That thought alone seemed to anger the king.
"Rosalind!" he called suddenly, and her heart stumbled in her chest. She forced herself to look away from the portrait.
"Do you think he's more handsome than me?" Alaric demanded.
Obviously, she did, but she shook her head, not out of fear, but to let him feel satisfaction.
The tension in his brow eased, and a slow smile spread across his lips. "Do you know who he is?" he asked.
Can he just stop asking questions? She knew nothing.
Rosalind shook her head.
"It's just a man whose life I stole," Alaric said casually, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. "There's nothing special about him."
Rosalind narrowed her eyes uneasily. Something about Alaric's words and the portrait didn't sit right. She turned back to it, trying to piece it together, but nothing came.
Alaric snatched her hand, pulling her away from the portrait. "Stop looking at things I don't want you to look at," he muttered under his breath.
"But you brought me here to look at them, didn't you?" she murmured back.
It wasn't the same, Alaric thought to himself.
Rosalind hated everything in this gallery, yet the moment she saw the man in the portrait, she had been seized by him. Alaric hated that her attention had been taken away.
Then there was silence between them, save for the sound of their footsteps echoing through the quiet hall as they walked deeper. Alaric finally broke it. "I heard you went in search of books. Have you been learning how to please me well, my dear Rose?" he inquired.
Rosalind's stomach tightened, and a flutter rose in her chest. She clenched her hands lightly, willing herself to keep her composure, but her heart betrayed her, racing like a drum in her ears.
"What have you learned?" Alaric pressed, his gaze fixed on her as he studied every flicker of her expression, savoring her embarrassment.
"You'll find out later, your majesty," Rosalind replied.
"Oh?" Alaric stopped in his tracks, eyebrows raised and eyes glinting with amusement.
"You mean you have a surprise for me?" he asked, and Rosalind narrowed her eyes.
If he put it that way…
He chuckled, his voice low and deep, and the sound stirred something uneasy in Rosalind's stomach. She frowned at herself. she wasn't supposed to be feeling this way.
Alaric closed the distance, first tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, then letting his hand slide gently to the back of her neck, his fingers resting there while his thumb tilted her jaw so she could look at him.
"You're so sweet, Rosalind. I think I fancy you," he said, his thumb tracing her jaw. She could only swallow the lump in her throat while staring into his pale blue eyes.
He leaned closer, brushing his lips against her ear, sending a shiver racing down her spine. "I look forward to it, Rosalind, and I hope to be impressed because if I'm not…" he trailed off, letting the threat linger, "you'll be joining one of my collections."
Rosalind's throat went dry, and she stepped back a fraction but he didn't relent, Alaric's arm wrapped tightly around her waist as he pulled her closer and she stumbled into his chest."Stay where you belong, Rosalind"