38. Mare #2
The last of Reese's armor hit the floor. He walked to the head of the tub and rolled his sleeves up over his elbows. I pointed to a nearby pitcher and held up the bar of soap.
"Here you are, serving boy."
He snatched the soap from me. "You're lucky you're injured."
Closing my eyes, I leaned back as he poured a pitcher of warm water over my hair and lathered soap through it. His fingers were warm and gentle.
It was the most wonderful thing I'd ever experienced.
He chuckled softly. "Enjoying yourself?"
"A little to the right," I murmured.
"Anything for you, Sunshine."
His coy tone made my mind wander elsewhere—even if I were too injured for such activities.
Shoving the improper thoughts away, I lingered on the magic surging in his prosthetic arm, the myriad stories burned in his past.
"I feel so uninteresting, next to you,” I mused. "I've spent most of my life doing nothing. Being nobody." My eyes flew open. "I have no idea why Cierthine picked me."
"Really?" Reese tilted his head, trying to meet my eye. I avoided it. "I pictured you spending your days dancing at balls and attending grand theatres."
"Well, yes. But none of that really matters."
That wasn't true. It had meant everything back then. Appearances, luxury, and noblemen I could court.
In the face of death and war, it felt meaningless. Frivolous.
Warm water poured over me, washing the soap from my hair.
"From the moment I met you." Reese ran his fingers through my hair, combing the soap out. "I've understood exactly why it chose you. Maybe one day, you'll see it, too." He leaned on the tub. "I still feel like I don't know much about you, though."
"What, the little things buried beneath my titles?" I shot him a sour glare. "You're one to talk." Before he could respond, I thought of something to say. "I adore the color purple. I tried to learn the flute as a child, but I was terrible at it. Happy?"
He folded his arms on the tub's edge, one finger dangling into the water to stir the soap around. "What else?"
"What else . . . " I skimmed a hand through the water. "Father brought me to parties, ensured I had the finest tutors, and kept our jars stocked with honey. I lived a charmed life. I never thought so, while I had it." Twisting my neck, I looked up at him. "You said you're an orphan?"
He shook his head. "My mother is still alive. We had a . . . kind of family. Quinn and his mother lived with us. Between the two of them, they made ends meet." A nostalgic light passed across his eyes. "Quinn and I started helping as soon as we were old enough to pick pockets."
"Well, no wonder you encouraged Liam." I frowned. "What drove you two apart?"
"Me," he said frankly. "I was a bit like Ferris—never where I was supposed to be. The older I got, the more danger I found, and trouble I caused."
"I cannot imagine that."
"I also brought home every stray cat I found."
I laughed, wincing as my wound throbbed. "Okay, that I can imagine."
He stood. "I want to show you something. Hurry up and get out."
"Oh, that frightens me," I murmured, waiting for him to turn his back before stepping out of the tub.
I briefly considered using a bit of wind magic to dry my hair. The risk shadows would entwine with the strands instead was too great.
Saints. Our partnership was a disaster waiting to happen.
Grabbing a towel, I dried off and pulled my clothes back on. Once I was decent, I walked to his side.
"Alright. What is it?"
Flicking a hand, Reese swept it through the air. Sparking light danced on his fingertips and left a trail of motes that tumbled through the air.
His fingers ran across my face and trailed behind my ear. Flowers bloomed where he touched, radiant and gold.
Reese pulled his hand back, leaving a magicked flower tucked in my hair.
Flustered, I reached to touch it. It burned, ever so slightly.
"We didn't have much, growing up," he said. "I used to make my mother flowers, like that."
Swallowing, I lowered my hand. "I still find it hard to believe you were just some peasant boy."
"I've lived a storied life. That was just how it began."
"I suppose my storied life just began. Assuming I live to see the year's end."
His smile died. "No one will touch you. Not while I'm around. I promise."
The irony of his words made me flinch.
I was lying to him. How furious would he be when he learned the truth?
"You can't promise that," I whispered.
"I can," Reese said with confidence. "I've never lost a fight. If they send assassins, I'll tear them in half. If they send soldiers, well . . . " He smirked. "They don't stand a chance."
"I didn't realize you had such an ego."
"It's earned."
He'd spat my own words back at me. My brow furrowed, and I looked up in indignation.
A faint, knowing smile flickered across his lips.
His eyes darted around my face, and he reached forward, adjusting the flower in my bangs.
My mind went blank. I was nothing. Empty. A mere worm in the dirt before him, small, worthless, and out of my league.
Reese stepped closer. "Listen, Mare . . . "
Darkness plumed behind Reese's shoulder. A crow appeared on the shelf, beady eyes glaring at me. One of its talons was missing.
I gasped, turning in circles as I found my bag and blade. "We need to go!"
"Why?" Reese blinked at me in surprise.
"I don't know," I admitted, running through the door.
The pounding drums of war thudded in my ear. My heart raced out of control. I looked up and down the dirt road, searching for any sign of danger. Of darkness.
Of death.
A trail of smoke rose over the buildings to my south. Wrapping my hand around Cierthine's hilt, I sprinted toward it. The pain in my side dulled to nothing as adrenaline raced through my veins.
Screaming. Screaming carried on the wind, growing louder and louder.
A crowd blocked the road, people of all walks of life bundling around a square. The fire rose before them, crawling up the stacked logs of a pyre.
A heretic's pyre.
I froze, hand tightening around Cierthine. The screaming came from a single woman, bound to the burning logs. Fire crept up her body, reaching toward her head. Charred clothes clung to her legs, and her skin boiled and popped.
The man standing beside her made my blood run cold.
A Forlaith Inquisitor.