Chapter 11: What Happened to You?

I stare at her, trying to think of something to say. “Why are you taking a bath at this time? Where are your maids?”

Her skin flushes. “They left.”

“They left you alone?” I frown, knowing that aside from Sigrid, she has two maids who are supposed to wait on her.

She looks uneasy, and I instantly know there is more to the story. “Why did they leave?”

She presses her lips together. “I asked them to.” She can’t lie to save her life.

Her eyes dart toward the wardrobe behind me, and I can see that she wants to cover herself.

Sighing, I take off my coat and walk over to her. She flinches. I don’t like it.

Throwing the coat around her shoulders, I snap, “I’m not going to hurt you, so stay still.”

She looks positively tiny in my clothes, making me realize how small she truly is. She’s not a short woman by any means, but compared to me, she is petite. Her head barely reaches my chest.

She pulls at the lapels of the coat, attempting to cover herself entirely. “Did you need Sigrid? I can call her.”

She’s already rushing toward the bell on the side of the bed, but I grab her thin wrist, stopping her. “I came to see you.”

“Me?” The baffled look in her eyes makes me bristle.

“You’re my mate. I can see you when I want to.”

“Your mate?” The blank question has my wolf pacing inside of me. “Yes. I—Did I do something wrong?”

My eyes narrow. “Why do you assume the only reason I would come to see you is if you did something wrong?”

She stares at me. “I—Do you need something?”

“Are you trying to get rid of me?”

She should be happy that I’m here. I’m her mate. She should be thrilled that I’m paying attention to her. Instead, she’s acting as if I’m intruding on her space. That doesn’t sit well with my wolf.

I cross my arms over my chest. “I was planning to spend the night here.” The words spill out of me unbidden, in a fit of anger, and her reaction proceeds to piss me off even more.

“Why?” She looks pale now. “What about Miss Asher? Does she know you’re here?”

Bella?

“What the hell does Bella have to do with this?” I snarl, and she flinches once again, snapping her mouth shut.

I look at her, and she diverts her eyes, as if unable to meet my gaze.

Why?

I choose to change the topic to put her at ease. I don’t know why it matters to me. “Why haven’t you done anything with this place?”

“What?” She looks tense.

“Your bedroom. You haven’t decorated it.”

“It’s not my bedroom,” she says slowly.

“What the hell are you talking about now?” I growl at her.

She trembles but looks me in the eye. “You told me this room was for Princess Ravenna, and that it’s not mine. I’m just following your orders.”

“My orders?” I want to choke. “You are living in this room, aren’t you?”

She stays silent.

“Decorate the damn place.”

It hits me how easily she accepts her situation. Any other female would have kicked up a fuss. She just accepts anything I throw at her.

“If you were to tell her to stand naked in the garden outside, I believe she would do so.”

Sigrid’s words come flooding back to me, and I feel the same sense of discomfort I felt then.

“What would you like me to put in here?” Corrine finally asks, quietly.

“It’s your room, isn’t it? What are you asking me for?!” I explode, angry beyond my own understanding. Irritation eating at me, I see her wrap the coat around herself even tighter, and I growl, “Go get dressed!”

As she walks past me, I catch that familiar scent of her. For a brief moment, I close my eyes and savor it.

When I hear her open the wardrobe, my eyes fly open. I turn my head and see her taking out a gray dress. “What were you thinking when you got those dresses? Not even a commoner would wear such designs.”

“Miss—” My mate falls silent once again.

She looks uncomfortable now, and I demand, “What were you saying?”

“I’ll choose something better next time,” she murmurs.

“Those three dresses in the back, who ordered those?”

“I did.”

“Why the hell did you order the rest that look like such garbage? You are the queen. I expect you to dress like one.” When she doesn’t speak, I ask again, “What were you thinking when you ordered them?”

She lifts her head now, and for the first time, I see a hint of anger in her eyes. “I didn’t order them. The ones I asked for were the latest trends and were meant for everyday wear within the castle.”

“Then why did the designer give you these?!”

The flash of anger, that fire behind those brown eyes intrigues me. So, she does have a spine. She has just been hiding it.

“Why don’t you ask Miss Asher?” Corrine clutches the dress to herself, her jaw set. “She told me I don’t deserve to wear nice things. She called the maids, and together they ordered these clothes. I told her they are not appropriate, but she refused to listen to me. And if you don’t believe me, you can ask the designer. She was here for the whole conversation. Miss Asher told her to use leftover fabric for my dresses. She and the maids even made recommendations. I was told to shut up and know my place. So, I stopped protesting and accepted what was given to me.”

This is the first time I’ve seen her so passionate, so worked up. She looks beautiful. My wolf approves of her anger and rage.

“You do everything Miss Asher tells you to?”

“I do not dare risk offending you, Your Majesty.”

I stare at her. “Stop with the ’Your Majesty’ crap. Just call me Locke. We are mates, after all.”

“You are Princess Ravenna’s mate.” Corrine straightens up and meets my gaze squarely. “I am her substitute. You told me to always remember that.”

I do vaguely recall saying something like that. But I never expected her to take it so seriously.

Isn’t this what I wanted, though? Why does it bother me so much when she looks at me with those empty eyes?

“This room, these clothes, and you all belong to the princess.” Her voice is clear.

“You are the one who’s my fated mate, not the princess,” I remind her.

Her lips curve in a faint smile. “Your Majesty, you are her mate. I am your prisoner, nothing more.”

Gripping the dress to her chest, she slips off my coat and walks toward the bathroom to change. When she passes me, I see the scars on her back. I stiffen.

Sigrid told me about them, but she downplayed their extent. Corrine’s back is a mangled mess. Not one inch of skin has been spared. Her buttocks are the same. I’ve seen similar scarring before. I know the kind of whip used to cause such scars.

“How—Who whipped you?” My wolf is anxious and angry. It’s pacing inside the confines of my mind. If I am right, then these marks are not just scars; they are permanent wounds. In the East, prisoners are tortured using a particular whip that has steel barbs on the end of it. Those barbs are coated with the most potent form of wolfsbane.

The purpose of that whip is to force the wolfsbane so deep inside the prisoner’s body that it can never be removed. It is an extremely barbaric form of torture that even the North does not practice.

I’ve seen pictures of such wounds. It appears that my mate has been whipped not once but multiple times.

When she doesn’t answer, I say, “Corrine.”

Her body grows rigid when I use her name. She swallows. “Princess Ravenna.”

“Why?” My claws are extended and digging into my palm. No matter what crime Corrine committed, it did not warrant such a punishment.

I see her body tremble for a moment before she squares her shoulders, her back still to me. Her voice is low and filled with a bone-deep awareness.

“Because I was born with the same face as her.” She lets out a quiet sigh. “Like you and the other inhabitants of this castle, she too believed that I needed to know my place.”

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