A MARRIAGE OF HATE: Chapter 11 – The End
Chapter 18
Killian?
My arm curled around her, my chest rattling with a shuddering breath. “I wish the same too, Princess.”
I didn’t know if she heard me, because when I peeked down at her flushed face, Julianna’s eyes were closed. She had fallen back asleep.
I leaned back into my pillow, squeezing my eyes shut.
Why was I here? What was I even doing?
Taking care of her… getting close to her again, when I should have long left the island.
I should have let Rani take care of her.
I should have left the night Julianna told me her truth.
Yet, here I was.
I had accused Julianna of being a martyr, but we were so alike.
I guessed we both had a penchant for self-destruction.
I walked into the dining hall to find the table set for two. That made me pause.
The last time the table had been set for both Julianna and I was before…
Before her truth came out.
Before the masquerade ball.
Was she planning to join me for dinner?
My eyes darted between the two places, finding something amiss. But when realization dawned on me, my fists clenched at my side. There was nothing amiss.
In fact, something that was previously wrong had been fixed.
Instead of our plates being set on either end of the table, so that we were sitting opposite of each other, with a great distance between us – our plates were now next to each other.
While I might have approved of this change before… now? Not so much.
I wanted to hang onto my rage, but the more time I spent with Julianna, I was once again allowing myself to grow weak for her.
Every time I tried to put distance between us, somehow, we were pulled together again.
A rustling sound from behind me caught my attention and I already knew who it was.
My body recognized her before my other senses did. My heart leaped to my throat as I settled in my chair at one end of the table, without looking back at my wife.
Julianna made a small sound at the back of her throat, before coming forward and taking the seat to my left on the side of the table.
“Hi,” she said timidly, folding her hands over her lap.
Hi? That was all she had to say?
What were we? Two teenagers on our first date?
It was on the tip of my tongue to say something bad to her, to make sure she understood that while I stayed by her side through her fever, that didn’t mean that I hated her less or had forgiven her yet.
But the moment I finally looked at her, I forgot everything I was going to say.
My brain stuttered for a moment, as if I had seen a ghost.
And I did.
Because Julianna was gone.
And in her place was… Gracelynn.
No, I was wrong. This was the real Julianna.
Pale blonde hair and the prettiest grey eyes.
Her black hair was gone and it finally dawned on me that Julianna didn’t have to hide her identity anymore.
The right side of her face was turned toward me, the unmarred side.
The woman who I fell in love with three years ago was sitting next to me.
The one who haunted me day and night for the last three years.
And the same woman whom I mourned.
The lump in my throat grew larger and I swallowed past it, trying to force myself to think.
Julianna Spencer had thrown me off my equilibrium and left me reeling.
She neither had to wear that black veil anymore nor hide behind those vases at the dining table.
No more hiding.
No more lies.
It was all in the open now.
Her truth and her scars.
“You’re staring,” Julianna said, reaching for her cutlery.
I almost flinched, but instead my jaw tightened.
I leaned back into my chair, crossing my right ankle over my opposite knee.
My gaze swept over her body, lazily. Making an obvious show of checking her out.
I took in the expensive white sequin dress, the ruby and diamond jewelry around her throat – the same one I had given her as a courting gift three years ago – and how her platinum blonde hair was left loose in soft waves.
She was always dressed in expensive gowns and jewels for dinner.
If she wasn’t adorned in diamonds, she wore sapphires, rubies or emeralds.
Almost like she had been wanting to make a point, to prove that she was more than what our contract had said.
More than just a human vessel who was expected to carry my child. My heir.
But tonight, Julianna was specifically dressed to remind me that she was no less than a Queen. My equal.
She was making a silent statement, when she chose to wear the ruby set I had gifted her.
Julianna nudged her chin up in a haughty look and my lips twitched, involuntarily.
That was such a Gracelynn thing for her to do. How did I never notice that before?
There had been two many familiarities between past and present Julianna.
But I had been so blind by my need for vengeance and the rage churning inside me that I never allowed myself to notice the similarities.
“I am staring,” I drawled. “So what?”
Her gaze held mine and I was shocked by her newfound confidence. This wasn’t the woman I left in her room three days ago.
On the fifth day since the horse incident, Julianna’s fever finally subsided.
She was fully conscious at this point, just weary and fragile. I still remembered the look on her face when she found me sitting on the chair beside her bed.
A look of utter tenderness.
And eyes silently and desperately begging for forgiveness.
Julianna finally woke up, free from her tormenting fever, to find me sitting on the chair next to her bed. Her eyes were hooded, still somewhat drowsy, but I knew she was fully awake now. Fully conscious.
She had sweated the fever last night and Rani did say that while Julianna would feel like crap the next morning, she would be more alert and cognizant.
Julianna’s gaze locked on mine. We stared at each other for what seemed like a long eternity. Time slowed down and it was only me and her.
Julianna and Killian.
Our tarnished past was forgotten for a second.
Julianna slowly rose from the bed and limped over to me in a pale blue nightgown.
My fists clenched on the armrests, so that I wouldn’t do something stupid like reach out for her.
To my utter astonishment, she lowered herself onto her knees between my spread th ighs.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I questioned; my voice harsh to my own ears.
Silently, Julianna grasped my hand in hers, bringing it to her mouth. Her lips brushed against the center of my palm in a tender kss.
A kss asking for forgiveness.
A silent kss of redemption.
“I still haven’t forgiven you,” I muttered, feeling the way my heart thudded in my chest at her small touch.
“I’m sorry,” she breathed.
I learned forward, bringing our faces closer. “You hurt me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I mourned you,” I said, venom dripping in my tone.
Julianna flinched. “I’m sorry.”
My lips curled into a bitter smile. “I hate you.”
“I’m sorry.”
My chest rumbled with a low snarl as my arm snaked out and I grasped the back of her neck.
Tugging her forward. She leaned into me, without any resistance.
Her breath whispered over my lips, so close. It was a moment of weakness when I leaned forward.
My heart and brain wanted two different things. But in the end, my body won over.
My lips slammed over hers, kssing her into silence. I didn’t want to hear her weak apologies, for they meant absolutely nothing to me anymore.
It was three years too late for apologies.
Julianna gasped once, before quickly falling into the kss. Almost like she had been waiting for this.
“I hate you, Julianna,” I rasped into her lips.
She whimpered and pressed her mouth harder against mine. Wanting more. Needing more.
It took all of my willpower to wrench myself away from the kiss. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, my lips curling bitterly. A smile with no warmth.
Her chin trembled and her eyes welled with tears.
It pained me, but for my own goddamn sanity, I forced myself to walk away from my wife.
That was three days ago. Once I knew her fever was gone, I left her with Rani and Mirai.
And we didn’t see each other again. Until tonight.
So, when did she get all her sass back?
Julianna Spencer was once again the poised and sharp-tongued woman that she had been before the masquerade ball.
“You like the dress?” she asked, interrupting my thoughts.
I cut my steak into precise pieces. “White is too pure.”
Her eyes flared. “Oh. What is your favorite color then?”
“Red is the color of extremes, wife,” I said, my voice gravelly calm. I knew what she was doing – trying to remind me of our past. How cruel could she be? “It’s many things. Violence. Passion. Wrath.”
“Lu$t,” she breathed. “$eduction. Longing.”
“Do you long for something, Princess?”
The term of endearment slipped past my lips before I could think twice of it.
Julianna must have caught my slip of tongue, because she granted me one of her rare smiles. A real smile.
But instead of answering, she went back to her food. We didn’t speak for the rest of the dinner and the dining hall was only filled with the unsettling sounds of our cutlery against our plates.
Julianna finished her dinner before me and she dabbed the corner of her mouth with a napkin, delicate and poised.
“I long for salvation,” she crooned slowly, to my utter surprise.
“But I’ve realized that salvation can only be found in the arms of the person you love. Salvation is just a pretty word for peace and comfort.”
I clucked my tongue at her. “You’re more clever than I thought, wife.”
“Why, thank you. Such a nice compliment coming from you.”
“Maybe you should just accept the compliment, instead of throwing that sass around,” I deadpanned.
She arched one perfect eyebrow at me. “You seem to quite enjoy my sass, husband.”
“I would rather a docile wife, wife.”
“Liar,” she breathed, the corner of her lips quirking up.
I slammed my fork onto my plate, my veins growing cold, and I shook with rage.
“We both know who the liar is in this marriage,” I spat, my hands fisted over the table
Julianna nudged her chin up, not before I caught a flash of grief in her grey eyes, but she quickly masked it away.
“I well expect you to throw our past in my face with every opportunity you get.”
“And you’re just going to be a martyr, once again. How very typical of you.”
She let out a soft laugh, both melodious and painful to my ears.
“No, this time I’ve come prepared for a battle, husband.”
Oh.
Now that was unexpected. What exactly was she going to do?
Julianna pushed her chair away, standing up. She leaned forward, bringing our faces closer and giving me the perfect view of her ¢leavage.
The neckline was way too low, showing a great deal of her full, enticing b©©bs. I didn’t know if she did it on purpose or not, but fk.
My thing twitched in my pants and I swallowed my groan.
“I realized three things when I was sick and you took care of me,” she said, her lips brushing over my ear.
“One, I was very wrong for what I did to you. You were right that night. Everything you said to me was the harsh truth I had been refusing to acknowledge for the last three years. Two, I wasn’t chasing redemption. I was only trying to hurt myself. And three, I want to find real salvation. Fight me, Killian. And I’ll fight you back until there’s nothing left for us to fight about.”
My heart thudded and I could only blink. Julianna straightened, her lips curling with a warm smile.
I watched her walk away, the dress tight around the curve of her hips and over her arse. Did she just–
I snapped my jaw close, refusing to believe that my wife had just left me speechless.
When I had the opportunity to leave the island, I chose to stay.
When I could have kept my distance, I chose to care for Julianna when she needed me.
And now…
Julianna Spencer was a wicked woman and I had fallen into her trap, not once, but three times. I really was a goddmn fool.
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A MARRIAGE OF HATE: Chapter 11 – The End
Julianna?.
Dear husband,
Your absence has made it harder for me.
Though, I never received your love,
Your presence brought me comfort.
Now, I am wounded in silence.
I breathed the scent you left behind,
But even that has faded now.
I grow weaker while I wait for your return.
I mourn your loss,
And my heart no longer feels the need to fight any longer.
I burn in your presence.
I ache in your absence.
I want to see you, one last time.
Before I go…
Before I fade.
Please come back.
– A
It was this very letter from Arabella that changed my focus a week ago.
Her words resonated with me and I understood them, on a personal level.
I burned in Killian’s presence and I ached in his absence.
It was ironic how I wanted him to leave, to move on – but when he was doing exactly that, I couldn’t bear to lose him.
Killian told me he hated me. And I believed him.
But as much as he’d want to deny it – he still loved me the same. I felt it in his tender touch while I was sick. Felt it in the way he took care of me, so patiently.
Though he walked away afterward, I already saw what I needed to see. It made me realize two things.
How wrong I had been before, when it came to my atonement.
And how much I needed my husband.
Maybe it was my feverish brain that had triggered something in me.
The idea of death used to feel like home to me. Peaceful. But now, it unsettled me.
I wanted to live.
I wanted to fix what I broke.
Not in the twisted and irrational way that I was trying to do before.
But I wanted to fix it, the right way this time around.
Then, I was consumed with self-loathing.
Now, I was consumed with the idea of true salvation. Not the pretty illusion I had been chasing for the last three years.
While I used to find comfort in Arabella’s tragic tale, because of how similar we were. Now, I could clearly read between the lines of her letters. Her unwritten words.
Arabella had wanted to fight for her husband’s love. But she gave up too easily and, in the end, she was left to die alone. When her sickness took over, the Marquees was on an expedition. Too far out of reach.
Arabella died before Elias could come home. She no longer had the energy to fight anymore, no reason to stay alive. And so, she withered without the love of her husband.
The night of the masquerade ball, Killian showed me the mirror of truth, forcing me to take a look at my soul in the reflection.
I didn’t want to be a martyr anymore. To dwell in self-destruction, thinking that this was my only option. To allow the self-loathing to fester inside of me.
I wanted a different story. Not another tragic tale…
I didn’t want a half-written story. I wanted the complete ending. With my newfound conviction, I got ready for the battle of my life.
To win back my husband’s trust and love.
Killian and I were two halves of a ruined soul and I needed to fix what was broken so we could be whole again. That was what Gracelynn would have wanted for me, anyway. To find true solace.
While Killian had been blind before, by his rage and hatred, I was blind with guilt and allowed it to consume, to become one with me until I couldn’t separate myself from that emotion.
It clouded my judgment and ended up masking my other feelings.
I folded Arabella’s letters and placed them back in the drawers I found them. It was time to put Arabella’s story away, so I could focus on my own.
It didn’t matter how many similarities I found between us; Arabella wasn’t me and I wasn’t her. Our story was and would be different. Cursed castle or not.
Two hours later, Mirai barged into my private library. Her eyes wide, cheeks flushed and a grin on her face.
“That’s a refreshing look to see. I need some good news, anyway,” I said, placing my book next to me on the window seat.
“Go ahead, do tell me. Don’t be shy now.”
“Ragna,” she breathed shakily. “She’s here.”
I reared back at her words, gaping.
“What did you just say?”
“Killian brought her back!” Mirai practically screamed in excitement.
Before she could even finish her sentence, I was already on my feet and sprinting out of the West wing.
Running through the corridor, past my room and down the stairs. My bare feet padded against the dewy grass as I ran toward the stable.
I came to a halt when I heard Cerberus delighted neigh and then… Ragna’s snort in response. Oh God, that was music to my ears.
There was a burning sensation in my chest and my stomach fluttered as I rounded the corner of the stables. The urge to run and wrap my arms around my mare was strong, but I held myself back.
I watched the three of them together, admiring the view of my husband with the two beautiful horses. Though they were both horses, they were two different creatures, if they were ever compared.
Cerberus was black and stubborn. Grumpy and unpredictable.
Ragna was white and soft. Friendly and teasing.
Complete opposites, the perfect yin and yang.
Killian had his back to me, strong and formidable. His blazer was discarded carelessly on a stack of hay and he was only in a black dress shirt and slacks.
He was brushing his horse’s black coat while Ragna pranced around them, tossing her head and nudging Cerberus with her head.
The stallion didn’t appear annoyed but, in fact, it looked like he was appreciating Ragna’s attention on him.
Was this some type of courting between them? I never thought one day I’d see two horses romancing each other.
My hands shook and I buried them in my flowy pastel-blue skirt.
“I know you’re there,” Killian said smoothly. Uh-oh, busted.
“Stop hiding and come forth. Your mare grows restless without your presence.”
I let out a squeak in response and Ragna’s head snapped up in my direction. She let out a loud neigh and strutted to me with unmasked enthusiasm.
I lunged forward, wrapping my arms around her long neck.
“Oh, how I missed you, my love,” I sighed against her warm skin.
She butted me with her forehead, releasing a loud, wet breath that fanned against my cheek.
“You missed me too?”
Ragna snorted in response and the back of my eyes burned with unshed tears.
She was still the same Ragna, hale and hearty, strong and lithe. The most beautiful creature I had ever laid eyes on.
“I love you, sweet girl.”
Though I found freedom on Cerberus’s back when we ran through the woods, Ragna had half of my heart.
She was my mare, my best friend and my favorite companion. She was only a horse, yet she understood me better than most humans did.
“What a tearful reunion.” Killian’s voice cut through my thoughts, equally smooth and calm. “I have to say, I’m very touched.”
I pulled away from Ragna, but didn’t let her completely go. Keeping a hand on her muzzle, I gently petted my mare.
“Do you have to be a jerk in a moment like this?”
“Hmm, good question. Let me think about it.” Killian made a show of being thoughtful and it was utterly fake, before he gave me a lazy half-shrug.
“The answer is yes. Being a jerk is part of my charms, wife.”
I let out an exasperated sound. “Actually, I don’t find it charming at all.”
“Too bad, you’re forever stuck with a jerk husband.”
Ragna pranced away from me, going back to Cerberus. She brushed against his side, before she tossed her head, her tail lashing behind her in what I assumed was part enthusiasm and part teasing.
“Forever, huh? I guess I can’t be too picky,” I said with a fake dreadful sigh. “I’ll take what I can get. Consider my membership renewed.”
Killian swung up on his stallion’s back and he grabbed the reins. “Your membership renewal has been declined, Mrs. Spencer.”
“Is that so, Killian?”
His gaze roved my face, lingering over my scars before meeting my eyes. Like the last few days, I had left my black veil behind.
I had been hiding behind it for too long and now that my sins were in the open, the black veil was no longer important.
Killian urged his horse closer to me and I had to crane my neck up to stare at his brutally, handsome face.
“You’ll have to try harder, wife.”
“I am trying.” Though I wanted to sound determined and confident, my voice ended up coming out breathy and shaky. “Where are you going?”
“The question is, where are we going.” Killian nodded toward Ragna. “I’ve saddled her up for you.”
I blinked in confusion. “We?”
He tsked, before giving me an eye-roll. Such a simple action shouldn’t be sexy, but apparently on Killian it was.
“Do I have to repeat everything?”
“It’s because you’re so confusing!” I whisper-yelled, hands on my hips and I glared up at him.
He wasn’t even bothered at my outburst. In fact, his lips curled in a half-smile.
“And you’re so goddamn maddening. What a pair we are.”
I threw my hands in the air. “One minute you hate me and can’t bear to be in my presence. Then, you bring back Ragna and now you’re talking about going somewhere together as if everything is completely normal.”
“Would you rather I continue hating and ignoring your existence?”
“No,” I gritted. “I would rather you pick an emotion and stick with it.”
He chuckled humorlessly. “That’s rather rich coming from you, wife.”
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A MARRIAGE OF HATE: Chapter 11 – The End
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