~ 15 ~
SAbrI
Despite all the unfathomable things that have happened since entering the ruins—or perhaps because of them—I find myself sinking in blissfully into the warm water. It’s enough to ease away the chill of the lake, some of the tiredness, and even the wild proposal Anya had thrown at me.
I’m not sure which is more ridiculous—her outlandish request of me to consort with the Thieves’ Guild behind the council’s back—or the fact that I believe that’s actually her plan.
I sigh quietly, peering at Anya through the steam. She caught me off guard when she started undressing and I looked away, as is polite, but now she’s right in front of me. I can’t help but take her in—if only to size her up.
Anya is thin, all lean muscle and dangerous curves. The hint of dark I saw on her stomach by the fire is actually a long series of tattoos. They curl sensually over her upper arms, breasts, down her sides and around her thighs. The steamy air makes it impossible to tell if they’re actual images or just artful swirls from over here. Under other circumstance, I might ask, but… well...
Things are not going wonderfully between us.
At the same time, we’re no longer at each other’s throats. Perhaps that’s a minute improvement.
As the hot water works magic on my aching muscles, I can’t help but find it difficult to cling to tension. The last few hours have been like whiplash, and no matter how determined my mind is to hold strong, my body is ready to let go of the stress.
Anya is resting on the other side of the pool. Her eyes are closed and she seems peaceful. The silence that hangs in the air isn’t quite what I’d call comfortable, but it’s infinitely less tense than earlier.
For now, I let myself sink into the cloudy waters of the hot spring and try my best to relax.
The silence dissipates as Anya hums. “So I, uh, heard the council has a few suitors picked out for you.”
I purse my lips. Marriage and suitors certainly aren’t my favorite topics, but I’m not sure how to approach this new… whatever we have between us. Anya and I didn’t magically return to being best friends, but we’re also not trying to murder each other. It’s some strange kind of liminal in-between, much like this odd place we’re in.
If she wants to try for small talk, I’ll allow it.
“They do,” I reply. I splash some of the water onto my face. It feels curiously soft, if water can be soft. It must be loaded with minerals.
“I’m surprised the captain let them play matchmaker with you,” Anya says with a light laugh. Her eyes are still shut happily, head tilted back. I’m not sure if showing me her long neck is supposed to be a sign of peace, but she seems to be comfortable. “Thought he’d keep you from everyone forever. Lock you away from the world, and all that.”
Nostalgia tugs at my mind and the hint of a smile slips onto my face. “You didn’t like him much even back then, did you?”
“No,” Anya says, “because I wanted you to myself.”
She delivers it with an easy smile, and yet it causes something to spark in my chest. It’s not anger, though, nor could it be envy—because why would I be envious of myself?
Odd.
“Still,” Anya continues easily, “I can’t hate the old bear if he keeps you safe.”
The reassurance in her words should be encouraging, even friendly. I won’t lie—talking with her, especially about the past, still feels kind of dangerous; but it’s much less painful than it was before.
“He does try,” I admit. Perhaps the warm water is working on me, because I add, “Sometimes too much.”
Anya chuckles.
“So?” She leans forward. I keep my gaze firmly over her shoulder and not on her chest. Even her face doesn’t seem safe to look at. “Have you met any of the suitors yet?”
I swish my hand through the water; it’s partially as a distraction, but it’s also a nice sensation between my fingers. “Just one.”
Of the five potential candidates for royal consort, one had accepted the council’s invitation and made a trip to the palace: the lord from the neighboring country, Piltier, and a distant cousin of one of the council members. The lord had been so full of himself, I’m surprised he even remembered my name.
“And?”
“His demeanor leaves a lot to be desired.”
Anya snorts. “What about the others?”
“Well, there’s the young princess in Torlain—”
“Torlain?” Anya cuts in, eyebrows flying up in disbelief. “Isn’t their princess, like, two?”
“That’s why they haven’t come to visit yet,” I say curtly.
Although their princess is still young, Torlain has an excellent navy. In addition, their supply routes would be a boon to our traders. I can see why the council would consider an alliance—even if it would mean a long wait for me before the young princess reached marrying age.
“Those old coots,” Anya sighs. She readjusts, swinging her arm over the edge of the pool. The light catches the wet contours of her biceps and the dark ink that swirls over her body. “I almost feel bad for you.”
“Why?” I raise an eyebrow, refocusing my attention on Anya’s face. “It’s my responsibility to arrange an alliance that benefits the country and its people. It’s an honor to serve however I can.”
“Serve?” Anya’s laugh is like a bark. “One, you getting hitched to some lord or lady or whoever doesn’t do much for us. Second, it’s not serving you .” She frowns. “You’re really okay with hooking up with someone you don’t like?”
Hooking…?
“I’ll marry whomever the council deems the most beneficial match,” I say, straightening my shoulders. “I don’t have to hook them—as two responsible adults, we’ll both consent to the marriage.”
Anya blinks. A rather impish smile stretches across her face. “Ah, sorry. Forgot you wouldn’t hear slang in the palace. Hooking up, Sab—I’m talking about fucking them.”
It takes a few moments for that to register in my mind.
How inappropriate!
Anya laughs, louder than before, and I realize I’m making a face. I quickly school my features back to controlled indifference, but Anya’s too far into her humor—her eyes squeeze shut in mirth.
“Oh, should’ve seen your face! Fucking hilarious, Sab.”
“Mmhm.” I should snap back at her for crossing a line, not to mention that her language is completely barbaric. Yet when I see her laughing like this, so at ease and open, I can’t help but recall old memories. It reminds me of how we’d play pranks or get into trouble—silly little things that would send us into fits of unstoppable giggles.
Maybe things can never return to how they are, but right now, it feels like we’re reconnecting in a way that isn’t entirely painful.
It’s nice. I don’t want to ruin it.
“How wonderful that my marriage arrangements bring you so much joy,” I say, keeping the sarcasm in check—mostly. “It’s my turn for a question. May I ask why you’re so interested?”
“No reason,” Anya replies swiftly. She dips a hand into the water, scoops a handful, then pours it out. “Just curious, is all. Can’t a loyal subject be interested in the lives of her rulers?”
I roll my eyes. It’s amazing how effortlessly we fit back into this, as if the past ten years had already been washed away by the steamy water of the hot spring. “Forgive me if that’s difficult to believe.”
“What?” she coos. “The loyal part, or that I’m interested? I assure you both are true. Cross my heart.”
She sits up, lifting her chest out of the water as she sweeps her thumb in an ‘x’-shaped pattern over her skin.
It catches me off guard, and I suddenly have no idea whether looking or not looking would be more appropriate.
I definitely do not let my eyes lingers on the curves of her breasts, nor how the dark circles of her nipples are still slightly visible beneath the surface of the pool.
“I—” I clear my throat. “I see.”
Well, not exactly back to how we were before.
Anya grins and it’s all teeth. “Because maybe you’re right. Maybe your service will change things, hmm? After all, the future path of our country rests on the frilly and fickle whims of nobles. As a businesswoman myself—”
I lift an eyebrow, but the action isn’t as sharp as it would usually be. I’m still trying to push aside unnecessary thoughts. The last thing I want to do is anything that would destroy the nice but delicate sense of normalcy between us.
Anya doesn’t see it or ignores it completely. “It makes sense for me to be invested in such things. Gotta know which opportunities might open up, and for how long. After all, no matter how diplomatic the arrangement, if you can’t keep someone in your bed, it’s all for naught.”
“…Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” Anya leans forward. The grin on her face is wolfish, and I know she’s goading me—just like she used to when we were children.
Despite knowing she’s teasing me, it’s proving hard to stare her down when tiny streams of water traipse enchanting rivulets down her neck. It’s mesmerizing how the droplets glimmer provocatively across her shoulders.
I avert my eyes back to the water, only to find myself gazing into her reflection. And isn’t that just the same as always: alive or dead, real or illusion—I can’t get away from her.
“I assure you that I’ve read the books,” I say, pressing my lips together. “You needn’t concern yourself over such matters.”
I’m used to jabs at court, both the ones concealed beneath pretty diplomatic words and those flung out in the open. A few prods shouldn’t get me riled up, so I’m not sure why Anya’s words have me crossing and uncrossing my legs in ways that send ripples of light reflecting on the sides of the pool.
“Hang on—did you say books !?” Anya pushes forward. She looks incredulous.
“Am I talking to an elder?” I snap. “Why must I repeat myself—yes, the books on consummation.”
Anya gawks at me.
My aggravation levels are rising rapidly. My future marriage has always seemed very distant and not that important—at least, compared to other things, such as my revenge. Talking about future unavoidable arrangement has never been a delight, but it also rarely makes me this irritated.
“Perhaps we can discuss other matters—”
“Oh no no no.” Anya throws up her hands, scattering droplets through the air. “Here I am worrying about the future fate of this country in the grubby hands of the council, but this is a new red flag. We can’t risk future alliances on what you read about sex in a book.”
Some water splashed on my face, but I refuse to wipe it away, because that would break my lethal gaze on Anya. “Disrespectful comments about books aside, that’s a very bold thing to say about the council. I had ignored your disregard up to now in respect for our previous friendship, but this is your second warning—keep the treasonous thoughts to yourself.”
Anya spreads out her arms and, heaven help me, stands up. As she gets to her feet, water cascading down her lean body, I have no idea where to put my eyes.
“Treason? Me? The so-called Lord of Thieves? Never.”
Anya’s laughing, but I’m in a full-blown internal panic. I literally don’t know where to look. Her body is just a few paces from mine, and as waves rock the steamy surface of the pool, all I can see are the hundreds of reflections of her bare skin.
“Please sit down.”
“Why?” she crows, and the smirk on her face should be illegal. I really ought to outlaw it. “You couldn’t look at me earlier, either. What? Can’t the princess stomach a bit of skin? You’re gonna be doomed in the bridal chamber if—”
“Anya, sit down!”
“I won’t! In fact, I think that as your old friend, I ought to walk you through the steps. Why don’t I show you? A little lesson—consider it a gift from the Lord of Thieves.”
Saying a brief but heartfelt farewell to the delicate peace, I leap to my feet too. If she’s going to be like this, then I refuse to bow my head and take her bullying.
“Ohhh,” Anya makes a show of dragging her eyes down my body. “Someone’s eager~”
“I order you to sit down!” I reach for her shoulder.
She tilts back, beyond my reach. “Too bad I don’t take orders from the Crown.”
I grit my teeth and clench my fists.
Naturally. Peace was never an option for us.