Chapter Twenty-six #2
Wilder never stayed within any royal household if he could help it.
Though it technically wasn’t supposed to curry favour, he had never shrugged off the feeling that it set certain expectations with some of the kings and queens.
Talemir had always warned him of such things; a night’s stay might come back to haunt one of their kind further down the road in the form of an innocent favour that wasn’t all that innocent.
But Wilder found that he couldn’t deny Thea a night of luxury, not after everything.
It had been a tough road since leaving Delmira, even by his standards.
‘Lead the way, then, Princess.’ He caught the flicker of annoyance in her eyes, but she tugged on his sleeve. Wilder followed, keen to put as much distance between himself and the dungeons as possible.
When they reached the main part of the palace foyer once more, a servant was waiting for them, their packs at his feet.
Wilder was glad for that. It meant that their horses had been looked after, despite what had occurred in the alcove by the guardhouse.
The chain of events whirled in his mind, as did the list of problems that now chased him, but he swiped his pack from the marble floor and motioned for the servant to guide them to their rooms —
Room.
Singular.
The servant opened the doors to a breathtaking suite. Its design was clear.
There was only one bed.
Either Artos was passionate about Thezmarr’s tradition of masters and apprentices bunking together, or he suspected there was something more between Wilder and Thea. Wilder didn’t like that notion at all.
Thea had killed the mercenaries from the storehouse and Wilder had disposed of their leader, but had there been more of them? Had others seen them in the alcove moments before they’d been drugged and captured? It was possible, and it was just as possible that someone had reported back to Artos…
Thea hadn’t seemed to notice or question these things.
Instead, she dropped her pack in the centre of the room and spun around, wide-eyed, drinking in the silks draped from the four-poster bed, the unnecessarily large hearth and the floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the whole of Harenth, the city glimmering below.
She let out a low whistle. ‘Have you ever seen anything like it?’
Wilder had to choke back a laugh at the irony. Had she grown up in her own kingdom, she would have been used to such riches and wealth. The guest quarters of a palace might have meant nothing to her, when the palace itself was hers…
The servant cleared his throat from the door.
‘Hot water has been drawn for the bathing chambers, Warsword Hawthorne. A range of clothing has been selected by our top-tier clothier; you’ll find several selections for you both in the wardrobes.
’ The servant gestured towards the rich mahogany armoires on the far side of the room.
‘There is a bell just here. Do not hesitate to ring should you require anything else. You are guests of the king. Your comfort is paramount. His Majesty King Artos requests your presence for the evening meal in an hour’s time.
Shall I have someone come to escort you? ’
‘We can find our way,’ Wilder said gruffly, watching Thea spot the balcony beyond the patio doors and run to it with a shout of glee.
The servant pressed three fingers to his left shoulder and bowed his head before he left, closing the doors with a click behind him.
Outside, Thea was leaning against the parapet, still marvelling at the sprawling city below.
Wilder wanted to go to her, to finish what they’d started in the alcove, but he couldn’t bring himself to.
Shame washed over him. Gods, he was hiding so much from her, after they’d sworn to be honest with one another.
The lost princess of Delmira had no idea that the Daughter of Darkness, the Warswords of Thezmarr and the rulers of the midrealms hunted her and her sister.
She had no idea just how fragile everything was right now, and it was his fault.
But what good would come of telling her?
She was already so volatile, with the power that raged inside her and the piece of jade around her neck that ruled her fate.
No, he couldn’t add another thing to that list of burdens.
And so he made for the bathing chamber, hoping to scrub the filth and the guilt from his skin.
The bathing room was nearly the same size as the sleeping quarters.
Pristine marble tiles lined the entire space.
An elaborate claw-footed tub sat in the centre, with a stupidly wide vanity and mirrors framed with gold filigree set against one of the walls.
Hot water steamed in pails by the tub, and a trolley stacked with a range of toiletries had been placed nearby.
The scent of lavender filled the air; Wilder spotted a small bowl of oil burning over a candle in the far corner.
Plush towels and robes hung from gold hooks on one side of the room, a cart stocked with premium liquor beneath.
Wilder even spotted his favourite wine from Marise’s cellar, his mouth watering at the sight.
No expense had been spared.
And Wilder wondered who the king was trying to impress more: him or Thea.
Slowly, he started peeling off his travel-worn and blood-stained clothes, grimacing at the stiffness in his shoulders. Those fucking mercenaries had certainly got a few blows in while he was unconscious, the cowards.
‘Wilder?’ Thea’s voice sounded at the door.
‘What is it?’ he replied.
The door opened a crack and she peered in, her gaze instantly heating as it fell upon his bare torso.
‘I… Uh… Is there a medical kit in there?’
Without a word, Wilder opened the door fully and pulled her inside, sitting her on the edge of the great tub and gently rolling up her sleeve, taking her injured arm to examine it.
It was in a state. Her stitches had been completely torn, and the edges of the wound were ragged, bloody and covered in grime.
‘You should have had this tended to right away.’
‘I was a little busy,’ Thea huffed.
Wilder ignored this and fetched a fresh pail of warm water and a clean cloth.
He knelt at her side, ignoring how Thea’s pupils dilated at the sight, and started to clean the wound.
He was as gentle as possible, dragging the warm rag across her skin, rinsing the cloth and doing the same again until the layer of dirt was gone.
Thea seemed to be holding her breath. ‘I thought I was meant to do this myself?’ she said.
Wilder rummaged for a needle and thread in one of the drawers, finding a small medical pack and returning to Thea’s side. ‘Not this time,’ he replied, threading the needle. ‘It’ll be worse this time…’
Thea clenched her jaw, but gave him a nod.
Wilder made quick work of the wound, knowing how tender it would already be, knowing the sharp sting and pull of the needle was so much worse when stitches had already been torn.
Thea didn’t make a sound. She simply sat on the edge of the tub, accepting his ministrations with gritted teeth. He hated hurting her, hated that there was little he could do to numb the pain.
When he at last tied off the end of the thread, she glanced down at the line of sutures. ‘Let’s hope the second time’s the charm…’ she murmured.
Wilder didn’t know if he was overanalysing, but her words seemed loaded with a different meaning. He cleared his throat. ‘You should bathe, then we can bandage it up properly.’
Not waiting for her response, he started to pour pails of hot water into the tub, checking the temperature as the water level increased.
‘What about you?’ Thea asked, watching him tentatively.
‘There’s enough water for two baths.’
‘But it will get cold.’
Wilder shrugged. ‘Still warmer than a river. I’ll be fine.’
Thea opened her mouth to argue, but Wilder simply raised a brow. She sighed. ‘Thank you.’
He made to leave, to give her privacy —
‘Wilder?’ Thea said, still seated on the edge of the tub. ‘I think I might need your help…’ She gestured to her clothes. ‘It’s nothing you haven’t seen before…’
Wilder’s heart stuttered. Of all the ways he’d imagined undressing Althea Zoltaire again, this hadn’t been at the top of the list. But she needed him.
‘Alright.’
He went to her and started with her sleeve, unrolling it carefully back over her wound, so it was loose once more down her arm.
He removed her Guardian totem and placed it carefully to the side.
Then he unbuttoned her shirt, trying to keep his hands and breathing steady, wondering if she could hear the hammering in his chest.
Gently, he pushed the fabric from her shoulders and it fell to the tiled floor. Her body was as filthy as his. Blood, a combination of hers and the mercenaries’, was like rust on her skin, while a thick layer of dust from the road covered her as well.
He glanced at her, seeking permission for the next item of clothing, but Thea’s eyes were closed, her expression a mixture of pain and exhaustion as she tilted her head to the ceiling.
Wilder undid her pants, pulling her to her feet and resting her hands on his shoulders as he slid the material down her legs. She stepped out of them and stood before him in her undergarments.
‘I’ve got it from here,’ she whispered.
Again, he made to leave, and again, she stopped him.
‘You may as well tend to your wounds while I wash,’ she told him, gesturing to the vanity and the medical kit he’d left on the basin.
He made a noise of agreement at the back of his throat, mainly because he wanted to be near in case she needed him again.