“Not really,” Clarion said. “I’ll probably stay here and work through it. What about you?”

“My sister’s coming in for a visit, and Ture’s meeting us for dinner tonight. It should be quiet for a few days.”

“With you two? I doubt that. I can just imagine the late night slumber party with both of you dressed in lacy underwear, having pillow fights on your bed.”

Zarya laughed. “You really need to stop watching those crap programs, Clair. Women don’t do that.”

“Sure you don’t. That’s just a lie you tell us guys so that it won’t make us any crazier than normal.”

She laughed again. “Good night, hon. I’m out of here before I’m late to dinner. See you later.”

Late to dinner…

He could only vaguely recall what it was like to sit at a table and eat his fill. I hope you choke on it, bitch.

Never had Darling hated anyone more than he did her. She would go home and have a fun weekend with her sister and best friend while he would never see his again.

The image of his precious Lisie lying dead was permanently seared into his mind. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the blood pooling around her. His guilt flogged him more than they ever could.

I’m so sorry, Lisie. Please forgive me for failing you.

The door opened to admit Clarion who wore a gas mask to protect himself from the noxious odors in the room. If only Darling could escape it.

Even for a nanosecond.

But Darling had to give his ex-ally credit. Clarion had told him when his uncle refused to pay the ransom that they were going to take all of their ills out on his hide and make him wish he’d never been born a prince.

They’d certainly delivered well on that vow.

Funny how that was the only promise someone had ever made to him that they’d kept. Not the one to love or protect him.

Just the one to make him regret every breath he took.

Clarion turned the lights on. “You asleep, Your Royal Faggotry?” He slapped Darling’s face, causing the muzzle to bite into his tongue and throat.

Darling wanted to lunge at him, but all he could do was turn his head so that Clarion could slap something other than the bone deep gash on his cheek that had festered over the last few days from an infection he hoped killed him.

“Sorry about our poor hospitality. I was told that no one’s fed you in the last three days. We can’t have you dying on us, now can we?”

Cold, fierce panic went through Darling. Not only could he not stand them feeding him, it was what they usually fed him that was the worst. He did his best to resist, but it was as futile as trying to stand.

Against all his efforts, Clarion grabbed him by the throat and tilted his head back so that he could pour a cold, salted broth into his mouth.