Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Dahlia
She lost time staring at the fire, chewing on one of her torn fingernails.
Her gaze finally wandered to the tent pin.
It was a last resort. Even if she did escape the tent and the camp, there would be nowhere to hide.
Olwen knew she worked for Diaz. He was ruthless enough to use them to lure her out.
That’s if they didn’t give Lo, Cosmos, and Lia up immediately.
No, it was only for protection if need be.
Lia walked around the edge of the room and slung a hip against the table.
The last few months, she’d spent the time drowning in grief and guilt over her decisions and the loss of her mother.
The pain and shame had been enough to convince Lia that she deserved an unfortunate death.
But after spending just one day near Neve, Lia knew without a doubt that she would fight when the end came.
And it came calling all too soon.
The air seemed to change, and the hair along Dahlia’s arms rose. She didn’t even need to turn around to know who it was.
Flyka.
While Neve could be cold, arrogant, and a brute, he’d never truly hurt her. But Flyka had been trained in the art of such a thing. The true danger had been the Haunt the entire time.
The cold kiss of steel touched her neck. Lia didn’t even flinch. She’d known this moment was coming for a long time. Without making any sudden movements, Dahlia held her hands up in surrender and slowly faced the menacing presence behind her.
Keep calm and you can survive.
A shudder ran down her spine when she fully faced the Haunt. Flashbacks of her attackers ran through her mind, melding with the present.
It’s not real.
She pulled herself together with frayed threads and faced her executioner head-on. The short sword rested at the base of her neck where her pulse hammered quickly. Despite the ferocity Flyka wore like a cloak, Lia could see fatigue too. The last few months had been hard on her as well.
Another thing to feel guilty over.
“Do you know why I’m here?” Flyka asked, her tone so soft, Lia had to strain to hear it.
“I do.”
“When we first met outside the Asteran palace, I told you I was his blade, his heart, his vengeance, and his shield. And that there was nothing I wouldn’t do for my king. I meant that vow.”
Lia swallowed the lump in her throat. “Are you here to kill me?” The survivor in herself was wondering if she could get to the tent pin or maybe call for Serenity.
Flyka’s blank expression cracked. “As much as you deserve it, I am not.” She withdrew her blade and slammed it into her sheath; Lia’s legs turned to jelly.
It wasn’t even worth arguing. Dahlia had made a mistake.
By all accounts, she should hang. And yet, this was the third person who had spared her life.
Did they truly mean to torture her for information?
They would be sorely disappointed. The Asteran royals had not shared anything vital with her.
She was a pawn as much as anyone. The only secrets she harbored were her heritage and her brother—both of which could get her killed.
“So why are you here?” she inquired, taking a step backward toward the bed. Closer to the tent pin. “Are you here to intimidate me?”
“Partially to satisfy my own desire to taste your fear.” Flyka crowded Lia, her fangs on full display. “This is not for you. I have only stayed my hand this day because I know hurting you would do more harm than good at this point.”
Lia laughed outright in the Haunt’s face. She was deranged. “I don’t know what you expect of me. I was sold to your king, don’t you remember? If you think to use me in this war, it won’t get you what you want.”
“We’ll see.”
Flyka poked Dahlia in the middle of the chest with her claw.
Lia hid her wince.
Stay strong.
“Know this will be your only warning. I do not play the same game as kings and queens. I deal in blood and secrets. If at any point, I have an inkling that you are embroiled in any sort of trickery or you are a danger to my king, your life ends. I do not care what the consequences will be,” Flyka murmured.
“You almost took one of the only people I hold dear in this world from me. For that, I will never forgive you. Thank whatever god you worship that the Frost King stayed my hand, or you would not be breathing right now.”
“I expected no less.”
Flyka frowned, her brows slashing together as if she didn’t understand Lia’s response. Dahlia held her head high when the Haunt slowly looked her over from head to toe. “You’re different.” A statement, not a question.
I couldn’t save one love and destroyed the other.
“I am certainly dirtier,” Lia commented, trying to hide her pain with a joke.
The Haunt exhaled heavily. “That’s precisely why I am here. Come in,” she barked.
Several Haunts pushed into the tent carrying a large copper bathtub and steaming buckets of water. She observed in silence as they took trips filling the huge basin with hot water until it almost reached the top. They left as quickly as they had appeared.
Flyka removed her white vambraces and set them on the table, followed by her white pauldrons and chest plate.
She rolled up the sleeves of her bloody linen tunic.
Dahlia eyed the bath and the Haunt. Was this a trick to get her in the bath to drown her?
Would anyone really care if Lia died of natural causes?
Drowning is not natural.
“What are you doing?”
“I thought it was obvious,” Flyka replied, “I’m helping you bathe.”
Lia blinked slowly. “I'm perfectly capable of bathing myself.”
Flyka snorted, giving Dahlia a pointed look.
“If I wanted to kill you, I would have. I can see your thoughts flickering across your face. I’m not going to drown you.
” This time. “But unfortunately, we are surrounded by many vallos, and without the reillov here, it’s improper for you to bathe without a helper and some protection. ”
“So, you’re here to protect me?”
“I’m here to protect Neve’s honor and reputation.”
That made sense, but . . . “How is this any different than when we traveled through Loriia together?” Even thinking about that trip felt like a lifetime ago.
Flyka held her gaze. “You were not queen then.”
“Is that what I am?”
The Haunt sighed. “I’m not sure what you are, saloes, but unfortunately for the reillov, you are married to the frost giant king. Now get in the qovving bath.”
Lia weighed the risks and settled on taking the bath.
If Flyka wanted to drown her, she could simply overpower Dahlia and drag her to the basin and do it.
This elaborate ruse wasn’t necessary. Plus, she was still cold.
She hadn’t truly been warm except when she was wrapped in Ne—She cut off the thought.
You can’t afford to get distracted.
Dahlia shrugged off her velvet dress until it pooled at her feet. She stared down at the smatter of silver blood, suppressing a shudder.
Flyka plucked an apple from Lia’s plate and crunched into it, eating the core and all. Wasn’t it bitter and hard? The Loriians were always surprising her.
The Haunt grimaced at the sight of the corset. “You’re back to wearing one of those torture contraptions?”
Lia tugged at the laces at the back of her corset, loosening the garment so she could unclip the front.
“I found it useful in hiding my bust. The flatter I was on top, the more I passed for a halfling.” She tossed it on top of her dress, shivering in just her torn chemise.
A moment of self-consciousness seized her as the Haunt took in her legs.
Dahlia forced herself not to shrink in on herself.
It was just skin. She was not cursed or less of a person because of the marks she’d been born with. She arched a brow at the pale giantess.
“Does it hurt?” Flyka asked.
“No. I was born this way,” she replied, tiptoeing to the tub. She pursed her lips when the Haunt dipped two fingers into the tub and then nodded. Why was she testing the water? Odd.
Lia stripped off her chemise and shivered before grabbing onto the tall bath and swinging her leg over the rim.
Her toes burned, but the heat was manageable.
She sank low into the water, her hair floating on the surface.
Her whole body ached, each scratch, cut, and bruise, but her tight muscles slowly released as the warm water caressed each ache and pain. The bite on her neck ached.
She craned her neck back to watch as Flyka rifled through Lia’s dress. “What are you doing?”
“Making sure you don’t have anything on your person that could kill my king.”
Lia shrugged. “Okay.”
Flyka blinked at her and then dropped the torn dress. She dug in her pocket and produced a small vial of peach oil. The Haunt unstopped it and held it over the water, but Lia grabbed her wrist. The giantess paused, arching a brow in question.
“What is it?” Dahlia asked.
Flyka sighed in annoyance. “Oils to help heal your wounds.” A snicker. “Not everyone carries poison on their person.”
A dig that hit close to home.
Dahlia released her wrist, and the giantess poured the perfumed oil into the tub.
It spread across the surface, changing colors in the light.
Swiping her hand through the oil, she inhaled the spice of ginger and cloves and the bitterness of rosemary.
It was a luxury she had not had in months.
While Lo was a nonnae, they didn’t have the time to create little luxuries such as scented oil for bathing.
Everything was brewed to sell. They had to be practical.
The Haunt produced a pretty bar of soap from her other pocket that smelled clean and was flecked with brown. She dropped it into Lia’s palm and then produced a pitcher from the floor. She scooped up water and then unceremoniously dumped it over Dahlia’s head.
She sputtered and pushed her hair out of her eyes to glare at the giantess, who grinned devilishly. While it seemed that she wouldn’t be killing Lia this day, Flyka wasn’t beyond being petty.