Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 123190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 616(@200wpm)___ 493(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 616(@200wpm)___ 493(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
He wants me to dress?
But then he steps out of the hot spring and scoops his clothes to his chest. Then, before I can react, he grabs mine and offers a hand to help me out.
I take it, and he grins as he draws me against his chest. “Hold on,” he whispers.
In my next breath, we’re in my chambers, four stories above the hot springs.
He drops our clothes on the floor and pulls me back to him.
“How?” I ask against his mouth.
“Magic.” He’s smiling, his hands roaming over my wet shift—down my back, up my sides, sliding over my breasts.
I gasp. “That’s . . . impressive.”
He kisses his way down my neck and scrapes his teeth over my bare shoulder. “I know. I was showing off.”
I laugh and then shiver. The air is so much colder than the water in the hot spring was, and my wet shift clings to me as goose bumps race down my arms.
“You’re cold,” he says, pulling back.
I shake my head. “I’m okay.” But then a shiver racks my frame again, belying my words.
Someone knocks on the door. Once. Twice. “Princess, I’m here to draw your bath.”
My eyes go wide. “My maid!”
Misha takes my chin in his hand and presses a hard kiss to my lips. “Take a hot bath and warm up. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“You’re leaving?”
He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before nodding. “Yes. I don’t want to. At all.” His eyes search mine before studying my lips and burning cheeks. “And that’s exactly why I need to.”
He disappears just as the maid enters with a fresh sleeping gown for after my bath.
I spot his clothes—left behind in a pile on the floor—and kick them under the bed.
“Oh, my!” my handmaid says. “Princess, you’re soaked. Did you get caught in the rain?”
I hadn’t even noticed it started to rain. It was a cloudless night earlier. But sure enough, there’s a steady thrum on my windowpane now.
Misha, I realize, and bite back a smile. Showing off more or covering for me? Maybe both. “I guess so.”
“I’ll go get some hot water,” she says.
When she closes the door behind her, a low whistle comes from my bathing room.
I spin toward the sound and see Shae strolling out, his dark braid swaying, his green eyes piercing. He leans against my dresser, and I press my hand to my chest. “Gods above and below, Shae. You scared me.” But we both know there’s another reason my heart is racing. One that has everything to do with the night I came home from the oracle and he begged me to follow my fate despite what I’d seen.
He almost kissed me that night, lips hovering over mine as he begged with a whisper, “Don’t make me choose him over you.”
“I’m sorry to interrupt your evening,” he says now. He looks me over, and his cold eyes go dark with something I’m afraid might be lust. Too much of me—of this body—is visible through the wet shift.
It’s like a knife in the gut. He never looked at me like that when I was in my own form. With tenderness and affection, yes, but never bald lust. I only wanted him to.
I lift my chin, daring him to make me feel guilty over what he just witnessed. “I wasn’t sure I’d ever see you again,” I say, but I wonder if he hears what I mean. Did you ever look for me? Did you miss me at all? Did you mean it when you said you couldn’t stomach letting Erith live if it meant I might be in danger?
He only showed any interest that one night—because he’d been hiding it before or because he was trying to manipulate me into action?
I never dared to suspect anything then, but it’s been three years. Three years of running and hiding. I had to grow up fast, and I’m not nearly so naïve now.
“Did you want me to stand idle while your father hunted you?” he asks.
My gut twists. “I don’t want to have this argument again.”
He searches my face, but his expression’s too guarded to read. “I was told to come check in on you,” he says, voice cooler now. “What’s the update?”
I expected Remme or Skylar, maybe Natan. But the sight of Shae sends a cluster of emotions surging to the surface. Adolescent angst, longing, and rejection all tangle with the loneliness I’ve carried with me for so long.
Until Misha, some quiet voice in my mind whispers. You never feel lonely with Misha.
I release a breath, determined to get through this. For Hale. “We think Mordeus used blood magic to set everything in place for his own resurrection.”
His eyes go wide. “You know this from a dream?”
I shake my head, though I suppose my dreams contribute to it. “Misha and I have been investigating. I need you to tell Kendrick that Jasalyn’s scars are from blood magic. Somehow, Mordeus came back, and now he’s using the princess to get stronger. Every time a new scar appears, it’s the magic being called upon. But from what we’ve been told, the resurrection isn’t complete. He’ll need a necromancer to revive his physical body. We need to make sure that doesn’t happen.”