I mulled over the options in my head. Escape. Find my brother because I had to know if he was the same and then…what? Disappear? But first, I needed to figure out how to escape.
The wolven could track me, and he…
Escaping him would be nearly impossible.
But I had to try, and there had to be a way. Maybe when my head didn’t feel as if it were full of cobwebs, I would know what to do. Weary, I let my thoughts drift. I must’ve dozed off somehow, still curled up against the tub, because the next thing I heard was my name being called.
“Penellaphe.”
Jerking my head up, I blinked rapidly as Kieran’s face came into view. What the…?
“Good.” He was kneeling on the other side of the tub—the tub that I was completely naked in! “I was worried you were dead.”
“What?” I threw a hand over my chest and pressed my legs together as much as I possibly could. I didn’t even want to think about what he could see beneath the line of water. “What are you doing in here?”
“I called out your name, and you didn’t answer,” he replied, tone as flat as a board. “You’ve been in here for a while. I thought I should make sure you were alive.”
“Of course, I’m alive. Why wouldn’t I be?”
One eyebrow rose. “You are surrounded by people who tried to murder you, in case you’ve forgotten.”
“I haven’t forgotten. I doubt any of them are hiding in the bathwater!”
“One can never be too sure.” He made no attempt to stand and leave.
I stared at him. “You shouldn’t be in here, and I shouldn’t have to explain that.”
“You have nothing to fear from me.”
“Why? Because of him?” I spat.
“Because of Cas?” he said, and I blinked, hearing the nickname for the first time from someone other than him. “He would be annoyed to find me in here.”
I wasn’t sure if I should feel good to hear that or more annoyed.
A ghost of a smile appeared. “And then he’d be…intrigued.”
My mouth opened, but my mind took that and leapt with it. I had nothing to say. Absolutely nothing, but I thought about what I had read about the wolven and the Atlantians. There was a bond between some of them, and while not much was known about what that bond entailed, I was confident that a Prince was of the class that wolven would be bonded to. I wanted to ask, but considering I was in a tub and naked, now wasn’t the time.
Kieran’s gaze dropped, moving down my arms to the curve of my stomach and thigh. “Among my people, scars are revered. They are never hidden.”
The only scar he could see was the one along the side of my waist. At least, I hoped. “Among my people, it’s not polite to stare at a naked woman in a bathtub.”
“Your people sound incredibly boring.”
“Get out!” I shrieked.
Chuckling, Kieran rose with nearly the same grace and fluidity that he moved with. “The Prince wouldn’t want you sitting in cold, dirty water. You should probably finish up your bath.”
My nails were digging into the skin of my legs. “I don’t care what he wants.”
“You should,” he replied, and I gritted my teeth. “Because he wants you even though he knows better, even though he knows it will end in yet another tragedy.”
Chapter 41
After quickly drying off and changing into clean, dry clothing, I did everything in my power to forget that the brief conversation in the bathing chamber with Kieran had happened.
The breeches were a little tight, causing me to wonder if they had belonged to a child, but they were clean and soft, and I wasn’t complaining. The long-sleeve tunic was made of heavy wool and reached my knees. The slits in the sides ended at the hips and would’ve made for easy access to my dagger.
But I hadn’t seen my dagger since the stables, and based on what I’d done with the last one…
I winced.
I doubted I’d have access to one anytime soon, which made escaping difficult. I needed a weapon, any weapon, but what I wanted was the dagger Vikter had given me.
I added that to my plan that wasn’t quite a plan. At least, not yet.
Kieran left shortly after I came out of the bathing chamber, locking the door behind him. I doubted he went very far. Was probably standing outside the door.
I started to braid my still-drying hair, but remembered the mark on my neck and let the strands hang loose. I then roamed the room aimlessly. There was no avenue of escape. I couldn’t even fit through the window. Was I going to be kept here until whenever time he deemed fit for me to leave?
Sighing, I plopped down on the bed. It was soft, so much thicker than the straw mat in the cell. I lay down, facing the door as I curled on my side.
What would happen when he returned for me? Would his seeming acceptance of my attempted murder change? Everything he’d said about the Ascended may very well be true, but he was still the Dark One, and he was just as dangerous. He’d said so himself.
There was a lot of blood on his hands.
With how thinly my nerves were stretched, I didn’t think I would doze off again, but that was exactly what happened. It had to be…it had to be the still-tender bite and its effect. Because one moment, I was alert, staring at the closed door. The next, I was out, slipping into a deep sleep where I did not dream. I wasn’t sure what woke me at first. It wasn’t my name being called. It wasn’t words at all.
It was a faint touch on my cheek and then on the side of my neck, just above the bite. My eyes fluttered open. The room was dim except for the sconces and the single oil lamp on the nightstand, but I still saw him.
He sat on the edge of the bed, and there was a dipping motion in my chest at the first sight of him, like always happened. I imagined it always would, no matter what I knew about him.
At least, he’d found a shirt.
And had bathed somewhere, because his hair was damp, curling against his temples and ears.
Dressed in all-black, he cut an imposing, striking figure, and I no longer saw his attire that of the uniform of a guard. I saw the Dark One. I glanced down at the sleeve of the dark tunic I wore and then to my curled leg, where I expected to see the black breeches. Instead, I saw a threaded quilt draped over my legs. Unsettled, I lifted my gaze to his.
He didn’t say anything. Neither did I. Not for a long time. His fingers remained on my throat, above the mark. After what felt like an eternity, he removed his hand and asked, “How are you feeling?”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. A giggle burst free.
His head cocked to the side as a half-grin appeared. “What?”
“I can’t believe you’re asking me if I’m okay when I stabbed you in the heart.”
“Do you think you should be asking me that question?”
Yes? No? Maybe?
The grin deepened. “I’m relieved to hear that you care. I’m perfectly fine.”
“I don’t care,” I muttered, sitting up.
“Lies,” he murmured.
He was right, of course, because without realizing what I was doing, I reached out with my senses to see if he was in physical pain. He wasn’t. What I’d done earlier had worn off. I knew this because I felt the anguish that always brewed just below the surface. There was something else there, though. I’d felt it before. Confusion or conflict.