I Bought the exiled king (by Natalie Winter) novel Chapter 156

Chapter 156

Valencia

BO

Gouchers.

My knees gave way and I found myself on the cold stone, palms flat against the gritty floor as if the whole room might tilt and throw me out.

The whisper still lingered at the edge of my hearing, a phantom breath curling into my ear. It was the same as my dream except this time the cradle and the baby were gone. Only the King, and that black hand fading like smoke from his chest remained as if burned into the back of my eyelids.

The Crone’s incantation slowed to a halt. For the first time since I’d known her, she did not look composed but grim, her knuckles white where they pressed against her staff. Elder Amara’s lips moved soundlessly, as though she too had seen something she did not dare name aloud.

“You… saw it,” I whispered, my own voice breaking. “You both saw it, didn’t you?”

I finally asked the question I had been wanting to ask out loud, just to be sure that I heard them say it to me again.

So that I would be convinced yet again that I was not going mad.

My gaze darted from one woman to another but neither of them answered right away. The King’s ragged breathing filled the silence, each inhale still sounding raspy and a little pained.

The Crone finally exhaled, the sound sharp as a blade. “I saw,” she said at last, low and dangerous. “And what I saw should not be.”

“What was it?” My fingers were still wrapped around the King’s limp hand. His skin felt like parchment over sticks. “Why is it…why is that inside him?”

I asked in a voice that was a mix of curiosity and horror.

“It is not inside him,” the Crone answered, eyes still fixed on his chest. “It is clinging. Feeding. Biding.” She flicked her gaze to me. “And it did not like you interfering.”

Her words sent a shudder through me.

I wanted to let go of the King’s hand but couldn’t. His fingers twitched faintly against mine, and that small movement anchored me.

“I didn’t do anything,” I said quickly. “I only tried to help. I dragged him out of the hall because Martin… because there was blood everywhere and I thought…”

I fumbled, wondering what that hand had to do with me or what had I interfered with?

“You did what you could,” Amara tried to reassure me while kneeling closer. She brushed damp hair from the King’s forehead with a gentleness I didn’t expect. “If not for you, he would already be dead.”

Her words brought up another fear that had been nudging me for long. Killian.

11:51 Tue, Sep 30 A

Chapter 156

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“I have to go” I said as I got up from the King’s bedside.

The Crone and Elder Amara said something but I didn’t wait to chat. I had to see through Killian’s orders.

I had done the first part of bringing the infirmary to the King if not the opposite and now I had to find Tors.

I would worry about the black hand and whatever cursed magic it held later.

The black hand still burned in my mind when I tore myself from the chamber, torchlight lashing the walls as Iran. The Crone’s chanting faded behind me, swallowed by the stone corridors, but the echo of that deep voice clung to my skull.

You cannot keep him from me.

I shook my head hard, forcing myself to focus. Killian’s voice rose in my memory, steady and sure even through pain: Left when in doubt.

So I did. Every junction, every fork, I turned left, letting instinct and his words drag me forward. The castle groaned with the chaos above of shouts, steel clashing, the roar of beasts.

Somewhere up there, soldiers and wolves tore each other apart. Down here, I felt like prey running through the guts of a monster.

I pressed myself flat against walls whenever boots thundered past an intersecting hall. Twice, armed men swept by, their armor clanking, Martin’s crest gleaming in the torchlight. Once, a half–shifted wolf snarled from the shadows, muzzle wet with blood, but he darted past me, too consumed by battle to notice a lone maid scurrying like a rat.

My lungs burned. My legs shook. But I kept moving.

At last, the passages widened, the air warmer, sharper with the tang of sweat and leather. A faint glow spilled ahead illuminating the path for me. It was a lamplight, not a torchlight. I slowed, clutching the torch to my chest, and peered around the corner.

I rushed towards one of the several barracks, hoping he had somehow found a clever way to abstain from jumping into the battle. Because if he was fighting in the war all around me, I doubted I would be able to find him.

I hoped Killian’s trusted soldier had the brains to stay away from this chaos but also that he wouldnt be rushing down the dungeons to find him.

Heart pounding, I slipped inside and found rows of cots lined the walls, blankets in disarray.

Armor lay strewn across benches, spears propped carelessly against the stone. The room reeked of men and steel and damp wool. It was completely empty, except for one person. And in the far corner, slumped against the wall, was the man I’d been searching for.

Torv.

Even hunched, he was massive. He had broad shoulders, pale hair cropped close, face shadowed by exhaustion. His chest rose and fell unevenly, one arm cradling his side. Blood stained the front of his tunic,

11:51 Tue, Sep 30 A

Chapter 156

spreading in a dark bloom.

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