Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Aurelia
T he bathwater rippling around my body has cooled, but I’m not ready to budge from the tub yet. I stretch my legs out through the lukewarm liquid and exhale more tension from my lungs.
At home, I bathed at night so the cozy warmth could relax me into sleep. Here, in the hotter Darium climate, I’ve found it’s most pleasant to take to the tub in the starkest heat of the middle of the afternoon, keeping the water milder from the start.
The sweet floral scent of the soap lingers in my nose. I scrubbed my arm and the side of my neck up to my earlobe extra thoroughly as if I could wash away the memory of Marclinus’s intrusive touch.
Will it be easier to accept his attentions when the trials are over, once we’re officially bound together? If I win—I can’t let myself get over-confident .
I’m not sure if an end to the bloodshed will make up for all the corpses left on the sidelines of our journey to the altar.
It will have to. I will make it work, whatever it takes.
Elox give me the peace to guide me through.
I tap my fingers down my front in the gesture of the divinities, displacing the water to reach my belly and then the sigil branded between my breasts. The motion brings a deeper whisper of calm.
The brush of my hand against my skin and the direction my thoughts had headed in stir up other sensations. I trace my fingertips down my side, indulging in a fleeting memory of the only touch I once welcomed.
But that desire has too much grief and guilt tangled up in it now to provoke more than a flicker of enjoyment. I swallow thickly and finally clamber out of the bath.
After Melisse insisted on setting out the soaps and oils and a whole heap of towels, I told her she could take her leisure until dinner. She looked a tad shocked, but she’ll have to get used to my peculiarities if she’s going to stay on as my maid. I’d rather bathe with full privacy. Most of the Darium-style dresses are loose enough that I can get myself into them without assistance, and all my hair requires is a comb I can run through it myself.
If Cici were still with me, maybe I’d feel differently and appreciate the time to ourselves. But no matter how cheerful and obliging Melisse acts, I can’t forget who’s paying for her service.
I dry myself and pull on the silk dressing gown my maid also left behind for me. Sweeping my damp hair back over my shoulders, I head to the main bedroom to pick from the few premade gowns Madam Clea was able to supply me with that fit my shape and coloring. She promised a set of custom dresses within the week .
I thanked her as much for believing I’ll survive here that long as for her work. Although I suppose she’ll be paid from the royal treasury of Accasy even if I’m dead.
The opening of the bathing room door lets a waft of drier air dispel the humidity from the bath. I’ve just stepped out onto the rug when an unexpected figure rises from the armchair near my bed.
I freeze, staring at Prince Raul. His massive, muscular form feels even more intimidating in the seclusion of my personal chambers.
His pale blue eyes sear into me from his tawny face, like they did on our first meeting. His mouth is curled in an expression that’s part sneer, part scowl.
My arms rise instinctively to fold over my chest, hiding the way the thin fabric clings to my breasts. A shiver runs over my skin at the realization of how little barrier there is between my skin and his penetrating gaze. I can’t help remembering how Prince Lorenzo closed in on me out of the blue yesterday, the fierceness of his finger slashing across my throat.
I don’t trust that this man won’t go even farther.
“What in the realms are you doing in here?” I snap. “ How did you get in?”
Melisse locked my bedroom door when she left—I heard the bolt slide over.
Raul prowls closer, probably to take full advantage of his imposing height. He speaks in the same low, ominous tone he used to threaten me before. “I wouldn’t want you to think you’re safe anywhere in this palace, Lamb. No matter where you hide, we can get to you.”
My composure has returned underneath my burst of alarm. My voice comes out tart rather than shrill this time. “I wasn’t ‘hiding.’ I was taking a bath, as one sometimes does when they believe they’re in the privacy of their own chambers. I’ll ask again—what are you doing here? Devising new ways to murder me?”
His eyebrows arch. “Murder you? Your beloved fiancé is taking care of all the slaughter at the moment.”
“You seemed happy to hurry him along yesterday in the parlor.”
Raul hums. “You asked to be part of these bloody trials, Princess. I didn’t put you in front of his arrows. I just thought we should make sure you were thoroughly tested.”
His gaze drops, the first time he’s looked at any part of me other than my face, but his assessment feels less like Marclinus’s ogling and more of a strategic scan, as if he’s checking me for weapons. As if I could possibly be hiding any under this flimsy robe.
Not that I wouldn’t be tempted to stab him if I happened to have a blade nearby right now.
“Were you preparing yourself for another interlude with the heir?” he asks. “You have moved quickly, haven’t you, for all your pretenses at playing fair?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Not that it’s any of your business how I spend my time with my future husband, but seducing my way into his favor isn’t part of my plans.”
Raul gives a dark guffaw. “That’s not what I’m hearing. It seems the two of you were very friendly this morning.”
Prince Neven reported his observations as I figured he would. “Whatever you heard is the full extent of our ‘intimacy’ so far.”
“Which I’m sure you eagerly encouraged.”
“A strange assumption from someone I’d imagine is quite familiar with His Imperial Highness’s inclination to take whatever he wants without asking.”
That last remark appears to draw Raul up short. He studies me even more intently, with a glint of interest that unnerves me. “Are you saying you don’t welcome your betrothed’s interest?”
It takes all my willpower not to grit my teeth. “I’ll welcome the joys of marriage once the marriage has taken place. I didn’t welcome you in here at all. You can leave of your own accord, or I can yell for the nearest guard to escort you.”
A deeper smolder comes into the prince’s eyes. He takes another step toward me, bringing him close enough that he could touch me if he reached out. Close enough that a musky amber scent that must be his seeps into my lungs with my next breath.
“Ah, but what would the guards think if they found the visiting princess consorting with one of Marclinus’s foster brothers in her dressing gown?”
I glare at him. “That you’re an asshole who doesn’t respect people’s personal space, presumably.”
“The visual could change so easily, though.” With another step, the heat of his brawny body grazes my skin through the silk. His voice drops lower with a husky note that sends a shiver straight to my core. “All I’d have to do is steal a kiss, and they’d be wondering why you look so ravished with a man other than the one you’re meant to marry.”
Something about the claim sets off a pulse of attraction that condenses between my thighs. Maybe it’s the confidence in his voice and the fact that he’s waiting for my response rather than simply manhandling me like Marclinus did. Maybe I’m simply pissed off about the imperial heir and that’s addling my good sense.
Either way, I still have enough sense to ignore the twinge of desire and ease backward. As much as I hate to retreat, staying where I was feels too much like an invitation.
“You think very highly of your skills,” I say.
“With good reason.” A grin crosses Raul’s face, turning his handsome features so stunningly gorgeous that for a second I can’t breathe. “Which I think you already suspect. I haven’t set a finger on you, and you’re already wet.”
Heat flares in my cheeks. I will it down as well as I can and reply evenly. “I just came out of the bath, in case you forgot.”
“Oh, I know the difference. In case you forgot what you saw last night, I have a gift for knowing exactly what people are hiding within their clothes.”
I don’t know if I’m more pissed off at him for intruding and provoking this reaction or myself for responding to his innuendo. “I’ve already told you what I want—for you to get out of my room.”
“I don’t think you’ve given my offer full consideration.” Raul lifts his hand. “Why don’t we both find out how much you mean that?”
I brace myself to strike out at him if he’s going for a grope, flimsy robe be damned. But the gesture he makes is so tender, almost innocent, that it startles me.
He simply strokes the backs of his fingers ever so gently across my cheek.
My pulse stutters. A shock of warmth blooms in my face and washes straight through the rest of me.
Including my sex, with a pooling of arousal.
I can tell Raul has picked up on that fact from the triumphant edge to his grin. With a flare of frustration, I pull farther back, out of his reach—and my gaze snags on the paler marks crisscrossing the knuckles on his raised hand.
My medical understanding—and the concern that comes with it—kicks in instinctively. “What happened to your hand? Where did all those scars come from?”
The question comes out soft with a compassion the man in front of me hasn’t earned, but he jerks his arm to his side as if I’ve insulted him.
“What do you care?” he retorts with an edge of a snarl.
I gaze back at him, confused by the shift in his attitude but recognizing that I’ve hit on a vulnerability.
As much as this man is trying to hurt me right now, he’s been hurt himself, for years longer than I’ve had to endure in this prison of a palace. He’s aiming his rage at the wrong person, but I can’t say it isn’t justified.
I wish a few more people in this place were angry.
The words I wish I could have said to Marclinus this morning rise up. “I don’t like to see anyone suffering.”
Raul sputters a laugh. “You came to the wrong place, then, didn’t you, Lamb?”
He strides forward so swiftly I don’t manage to stumble backward before he’s tucked his arm behind my back. “Since you want me to leave so badly, why don’t I stroll right out your door and see what that does for your reputation?”
I’m not sure what kind of reaction he’s trying to provoke this time, but my sympathy crackles right back into a surge of my own anger. My hand whips out before I can think better of it.
I slap him across the side of his face hard enough to leave a reddish blotch in its wake. As Raul jerks away, my fingers curl toward my palm. “That should settle any question of my willingness. Grab me again, and we’ll see how your nose likes my fist.”
The prince stares at me for a moment as if he’s been shocked into silence. His jaw has tightened with what I’d take for wrath, but he mostly looks incredulous, as if he can’t believe what just happened.
Then his eyes blaze with a different sort of heat.
A chuckle tumbles out of him. “Lambs who try to spar with the wolves end up getting eaten that much faster.”
He strides out of the room as quietly as he arrived, leaving me clutching my robe and wondering what deeper mess I’ve mired myself in now.