The Blood Crown (The Blood Folk #2)

33. Chapter 33

Chapter 33

S atisfied that Asher was comfortable, that he had everything he could possibly wish for, Aurelia was finally convinced to leave him.

She shut the door to his chambers behind her, exhaustion making her very bones feel heavy as her feet led her to the familiar room further down the hall. Her fingers twisted the knob before she stopped herself . . .

Ven’s chambers—not hers.

Dropping her hand at her side, nails biting into her palm, she continued on to the empty rooms further down, choosing a door at random and letting herself into the sparse bedroom.

Morning light filtered through the windows, illuminating the dust motes in the air. A bed and matching end table were centered along the far wall. A worn chair before the fire.

How long had it been since she’d slept? Had a hot meal?

She’d never asked how to master the basic magick they all possessed to conjure food for herself, so she’d have to find her way to the kitchens. But right now, the only thing she could think about was a scalding bath. Hot enough to boil away the grit and grime and blood that still coated her skin and hair.

She lifted an arm and grimaced, wondering how Asher had managed to stand beside her and not comment on the stench.

Finding the door to the bathing chamber, she cracked the faucet, watching steam billow out of the tub as it filled with water.

Raiding the empty cabinets, she let out a defeated sigh. No scented oils or soaps—but that could be quickly remedied now that she’d claimed this room as her own.

Her own.

Somehow the thought left her feeling a pang of loneliness.

It wasn’t until she glanced up into the mirror that she realized she still wore the white uniform Valea had stolen for her. Stained and soiled beyond recognition.

Her braid had mostly come undone. The dark brown waves of her hair lank over her shoulder. Dirt smudged across her cheek. Amber eyes harder than they’d been before she’d left this place . . .

Bound.

The word clanged unbidden through her thoughts, disrupting what little peace she’d had since returning.

The way Embra spoke of her bond with Nira made it seem like something to fight for—something to envy. And yet Ven spoke of it like a curse.

Did he resent the fact that he would be tethered to her?

She’d felt that same undeniable pull to him—but maybe for him it was an anchor around his neck . . .

And yet he claimed her.

And the coin . . . She tried to recall the first time she’d noticed him wearing it, but all of her memories swirled into a weary haze around her.

Shoving away the tangle of thoughts, she peeled the clothing from her body, testing the water with a toe before easing into the tub with a hiss. Her hand gripped the stone, knocking something onto the floor with a clatter—

Bottles.

A neat row of them now lined the edge of the tub. Scented oils and shampoos—ones that hadn’t been there only moments ago when she’d been searching for them. Bergamot and citrus. Cedar and lavender, Balsam and lilac.

She plucked one at random, pouring the contents into the water.

But as she slipped under the surface, she quickly realized why she’d selected the scent. Who it reminded her of—who’d no doubt sent them to her.

Washing her hair a second, third, fourth time and scrubbing her skin until it was pink—she finally gave up on luxuriating. Placing a wet foot onto the stone floor, she silently cursed as she realized she hadn’t thought to look for towels.

A neat stack appeared by the wash basin, and she rolled her eyes, begrudgingly taking one—still warm and fresh from the laundry.

She didn’t even bat an eye as she found a stack of clean clothing, folded and waiting on the bench at the foot of the bed. The pants, the shirts—all her size—save for the crisp white button down, oversized as she preferred. Softly worn and broken in . . . not new like the other items.

An olive branch.

Turning toward the bed, she stopped short at seeing a plate heaped with food. Crisp bacon, nearly burnt just as she preferred it, eggs fried to perfection, and the thick brown bread she’d grown so fond of here loaded with pats of melting butter.

A moment later, a dull thud hit the table, a mug of rich dark coffee, swirled with thick cream appearing beside the food.

Her stomach grumbled, and with a defeated sigh, she tucked into the offering.

Drawing the shades, she slipped between the sheets, sinking into the bed with a full stomach and closing her eyes.

She willed sleep to claim her, but images flashed through her mind, racing. Twin streaks of red across a black stone floor . . . A twisted scar . . . The feeling of Ven’s lips against her throat.

It does not need to mean anything beyond these walls.

She rolled over onto her other side, squashing the pillow underneath her head a little harder than was necessary.

Finally giving up, she padded to the wardrobe, already knowing that she would find boots her size waiting at the bottom.

Warm light glowed from beneath the glass doors of the tower.

Embra was tidying up the greenhouse as Aurelia walked inside, dark green braid swaying over her shoulder as she balanced a stack of glass jars, placing them on one of the tall shelves that lined the tower. She wore a pair of practical brown pants, a thickly knit cream sweater against the chill, pushed up to her elbows.

“Let me,” Aurelia offered, taking the flasks from Embra’s hand and placing them in the tidy row.

No sooner had she taken her hand back, and Embra crushed her into a hug, her strength taking Aurelia by surprise—as it always did.

“It’s good to see you, my friend,” Embra whispered.

An unexpected tear slid down Aurelia’s cheek as she held onto the female. The emotions hitting her all at once—they’d finally made it back here. They were finally safe.

“It’s good to see you, too,” she murmured.

Embra pulled away, unabashed as twin streaks of silver rolled down her pale green cheeks.

“How is she?” Aurelia asked, nodding toward the darkened room beyond.

Embra glanced toward Valea’s sleeping form. “Stable,” she answered quietly. “But beyond this point, there’s no telling.”

“And Karro?” Aurelia scanned the room, seeing no sign of the Wraith.

Embra let out a heavy sigh, “I told him he wasn’t doing her any good exhausted and hungry.”

“You kicked him out,” Aurelia chuckled.

“I kicked him out,” Embra replied, crossing her pale green arms over her chest. “He’s not allowed back in here for a full six hours.”

“You know he’s stubborn enough just to sit outside on the steps.”

“He can do as he likes with that time." She shrugged. "But he will not be here ." She turned, busying herself again. "He can’t offer her strength if he doesn’t take care of himself as well.” She shook her head, emerald hair swaying. "He snaps at anyone who gets too close. Won’t let anyone give her synthetic blood,” she said with a toss of her braid. "He was driving himself mad sitting at the side of her bed—you’d think he was . . .”

Whatever the female realized in that moment made her mouth snap shut as her brown eyes raised to meet Aurelia’s narrowed gaze.

Was it possible? That Ven’s sister and Karro . . .

But whatever crossed both of their minds remained unspoken. Better for Karro to realize that for himself.

Her gaze dropped to her booted feet as she bit off a curse.