“I didn’t know you were coming.” He turned around to face me, smirking. “Shall I leave the shirt off then?”
“No, put the shirt on,” I said, and I closed the door behind me, so nobody could see or overhear us talking.
“You’re no fun.” He wrinkled his nose and pulled the shirt over his head.
“Your back is horrific,” I said.
“And I was just going to tell you how beautiful you look today, but I’m not going to bother now if you’re going to talk that way.” Loki sat back down on his bed, more lying than sitting.
“I’m being serious. What happened to you?”
“I already told you.” He stared down at his legs and picked at lint on his pants. “The King hates me.”
“Why?” I asked, already feeling indignation at my father for doing this to him. “Why in god’s name would he do something so brutal to you?”
“You clearly don’t know your father,” Loki said. “This isn’t that brutal for him.”
“How is it not brutal?” I sat down on the bed next to him. “And you’re nearly a Prince! How can he treat you this way?”
“He’s the King,” he shrugged. “He does what he wants.”
“But what about the Queen?” I asked. “Didn’t she try to stop him?”
“She tried to heal me at first, but eventually that became too much for her. And there’s only so much Sara can do to counter Oren.”
Sara, the Queen of the Vittra, was my stepmother, but she’d once been betrothed to Loki. She was over ten years older than him, and it was an arranged engagement that ended when he was nine. They were never romantic, and she had always considered Loki more of a little brother and protected him as such.
“Did he personally do that to you?” I asked quietly.
“What?” Loki looked up at me, his golden eyes meeting mine.
He had a scar on his chin, and I’m certain he didn’t have that before. His skin had been flawless and perfect, not that the scar detracted in any way from how handsome he was.
“That.” I touched the mark on his chin. “Did he do that to you?”
“Yes,” he answered thickly.
“How?” I moved my hand, touched a mark he had on his temple. “How did he do this to you?”
“Sometimes he’d hit me.” Loki kept his eyes on me, letting me trace my fingers on his scars. “Or he’d kick me. But usually, he used a cat.”
“You mean like a living cat?” I gave him an odd expression, and he smiled.
“No, it’s actually called a cat o’ nine tails,” he said. “It’s like a whip, but instead of one tail, it has nine. It inflicts more damage than a regular whip.”
“Loki!” I dropped my hand, totally appalled. “He would do that to you? Why didn’t you leave? Did you fight back?”
“Fighting back wouldn’t do any good, and I left as soon as I was able,” Loki said. “That’s why I’m here now.”
“He held you prisoner?” I asked.
“I was locked up in the dungeon.” He shifted and turned away from me. “Princess, I’m glad to see you, but I’d really rather not talk about this anymore.”
“You want me to grant you amnesty,” I said. “I need to know why.”
“Why?” Loki laughed darkly. “Why do you think, Princess?”
“I don’t know!”
“Because of you.” He looked back at me, a strange, crooked smile on his face. “I didn’t bring you back.”
“But…” I furrowed my brow. “You asked to go back to the Vittra. We bartered with the King so he could have you.”
“Yes, well, he still thought you would come around.” He ran a hand through his hair and sat up straighter. “And you didn’t. It was my fault for letting you go in the first place, and then for not bringing you back.” He bit his lip and shook his head. “He’s determined to get you, Princess.”
“So he tortured you?” I asked quietly, and I tried to keep the tremor from my voice. “Over me?”
“Princess,” Loki sighed and moved closer to me. Gently, almost cautiously, he put his arm around me. “What happened isn’t your fault.”
“Maybe. But maybe this wouldn’t have happened if I’d run away with you.”
“You still can.”
“No, I can’t.” I shook my head. “I have so much I need to do here. I can’t just leave it all behind. But you can stay here. I will grant you amnesty.”
“Mmm, I knew it.” He smiled. “You’d miss me too much if I left.”
“Hardly,” I laughed.
“Hardly?” Loki smirked.
He’d lowered his arm around me, so his hand was on my waist. Loki was right next to me, his muscles pressed against me. I knew that I should move away, that I had no justifiable reason to be this close to him, but I didn’t move.
“Would you?” Loki asked, his voice low.
“Would I what?”
“Would you run away with me, if you didn’t have all the responsibilities and the palace and all that?”
“I don’t know,” I said.
“I think you would.”
“Of course you do.” I looked away from him, but I didn’t move away. “Where did you get the pajamas, by the way? You didn’t bring anything with you when you came.”