Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 145704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Through the small rectangular opening in the wall, branches stir. A moment later, the door creaks open behind me.
“I told you to go to bed.”
“If you mean Eden, she did. I watched her go.”
My stomach flips as Zander’s voice fills the room. “What are you doing here?”
“You said you needed to talk.” The door shuts with a click.
“Yeah, and then that letter came, and I figured you were busy doing king things.”
“King things?” His footfalls are slow and measured as he crosses the little room to the simmering cauldron. He stoops to place another log beneath. The flames engulf it instantly, aided by his affinity. “That water cannot be comfortable anymore.”
“It’s not.” I fight the urge to curl my arms across my bare chest, just an inch beneath the water’s surface. He’s the one who decided to intrude. “But I don’t want to get out yet.”
“Good, because you are still filthy.” He sheds his cloak and weapons on the floor, the gory evidence of the earlier battle smeared on the blades.
“You’re one to talk.” His forearm is covered in dried blood.
“I am not the one sitting in a tub.”
And unfortunately, he wouldn’t fit in here with me, no matter how creative the positioning.
He sets to filling the pitcher with hot water.
“What did the letter say?” I wait expectantly, my pulse thrumming, as he saunters over to add the steaming water.
But he keeps his eyes downcast. “Atticus has announced his betrothal to Saoirse.”
The news derails my lewd thoughts. I groan. “What an idiot!”
He smirks as he returns to the cauldron and refills the pitcher.
“That horrible snake is going to be queen of Islor. These poor people will be under her rule.” She’s going to sleep in my bed and sit on the throne I once sat in. My throne. While it was never truly mine to begin with, I feel an odd claim to it now, and a surge of disappointment at its loss. “Why are you not upset?”
“Because stewing in my feelings will not change anything.”
I sigh. “When?”
“The next Hudem.”
That was supposed to be our wedding day. Our second one. A sham to buy us time to uncover the traitors working against Zander. But then things changed between us and … I don’t know what would have happened if we had gone through it.
“Do you think he’s told Saoirse about me?” All my secrets?
“Atticus is not marrying Saoirse for love or companionship. It is merely a move on a chessboard to further entrench himself on the throne, so that I may not take it back.” Zander pours another pitcher of hot water into my bath. “He does not trust her or her father. He will guard all vital information.”
“Will it work? This marriage?”
“He’ll have Kettling and the east standing behind him.” His eyes settle on mine. “But I will have you.”
I swallow under their weight. “Water shields and crumbling caves will not beat an army. I think you put way too much faith in me.”
“And I do not think you put enough in yourself.” Finally, his attention drifts over my waiting body, his gaze rousing a delicious heat along my limbs, through my core. “How is the temperature now?”
“Better.” I hardly feel it one way or the other, far too focused on Zander, on the way he makes my heart pound, my blood race, and this ache stir deep inside. And I know he can sense it. That muscle ticking in his jaw tells me so.
“You haven’t washed your hair.”
“I tried, but my shoulder is killing.”
Zander collects a stool from nearby and settles next to the tub. “Relax for me,” he coaxes, cupping my nape.
I admire his mouth as I settle into his grip, allowing him to shift my body until the back of my head is immersed. His other hand works against my scalp, his fingers weaving through my hair. He grazes the spot on my skull that was bashed when they knocked me out. “Does that still sting?”
“No. Gesine fixed it.” And the dull ache that’s plagued me since melts away beneath his touch.
“And your leg?”
“Didn’t you just get a good look at it?” I tease. The room is dimly lit, but with those Islorian eyes of his, I can’t be sure what he can see.
“I did not come here for that.” When his eyes drop to meet mine, the hazel in them is molten. He may not have come for that, but I can see that he wants it.
My throat goes dry. “It doesn’t hurt.”
“Good.” A quiet moment passes where the candles flicker, and Zander collects a lather from the bar of soap on the ledge. I inhale the delicious scent of rose petals as his skilled hands work it through my hair.
“How was your meeting with Rengard?”
“He’s protecting his interests and those of his people, and I cannot fault him for that.”