Chapter 47
JO
The weapons that used to adorn the wall above his bed are gone. Every surface is pockmarked. From the bedframe to the ceiling, there’s not an inch of surface that remains unscathed. I can only surmise what caused the damage. Or rather—who.
Acker returns from speaking with the soldiers who have been assigned to stand outside his door, a mangi collar in his hands … and chains.
I raise a brow in question when he places the length of metal and collar on the table beside the bed.
“I figured you’d like to have an honest-to-gods bath before you have to wear it.”
There’s a beat where we simply stare at each other, partially in disbelief about the fact that Edmond bought Acker’s lies so easily. That we’ve surpassed the first hurdle to get into the palace.
“Are you okay?” Acker asks.
He warned me, but I’d forgotten the mask of callousness he’s so easily able to slip on.
It’s the same bravado I saw him wield when we were surrounded by soldiers in the woods of Roison.
Cocky and put on for show. I can only hope his father well and truly bought his act and that I haven’t walked myself into my own demise.
Acker dips his head, so his face is in my line of sight. “Jovie?”
“Uh, yes,” I stutter, holding out my shackled wrists. “Can you…?”
He steps forward tentatively, as if he’s scared to spook me. His hands reach out to cradle my wrists, fingers encompassing the entirety of my metal cuffs. The metal locks clink open and I take a steadying breath.
Rubbing my wrists, I inspect the room once more. From the desk angled in the corner and the stacks of books overflowing onto the floor surrounding it, to the unlit hearth and the half-burned candles lining the mantle. The last thing I look at is the bed I saw Irina in.
I meet Acker’s gaze with a lift of my brow. “I would have preferred my own bedchamber,” I remark.
The strain around his mouth releases at the return of my attitude. “If you had a preference on sleeping arrangements, you should have agreed to stay with Wells’s parents.”
My eyes slide from his as I walk past him toward the bathroom.
Inside, I marvel at the opulence that I, too, had forgotten about.
Stone sinks with gold hardware, ornate mirrors, and a chandelier of brass hanging over the copper tub.
Every metal is different and polished to perfection, yet somehow still cohesive in the space.
I run my hand along the edge of the tub, turning the spigot for the water to fill the basin.
A pedestal holds different soaps, and I imagine Irina soaking in the bath as she rifled through the array of oils.
The image makes my stomach clench, and as much as I want to bathe, I need to know something first.
I stalk back into the bedchamber.
Acker sits shirtless at the end of the bed as he undoes the laces of his boots. His head snaps up at my sudden return.
I almost hate the words I’m about to say, but I have to say them.
“I need to know—” I stop as I look from him to the floor, then to the balcony doors he must have opened while I was in the bathroom.
“For the sake of knowing,” I begin again, as I try to find my courage.
“Irina said you … didn’t … after, but your wedding night… ”
Comprehending my jumbled words, he sits up, giving me his full attention. My heart thunders in my chest, the memory of her straddling his lap on one of the chairs in front of the fireplace at the forefront of my mind. The image of her in the very bed he sits on now.
Standing, Acker moves toward me, legs eating the space in a few strides.
His eyes are soft as he inspects my face.
“No, Jovie,” he answers, sincerity plain across his features.
“I tried, but I couldn’t go through with it.
” He reaches up with a careful hand, cupping my cheek in his palm.
“Not when I could feel every pulse of your pain through the tether.”
I had spent the night drowning my sorrows in a bottle of wine. Then another, until the stabbing sensation in my chest abated to a dull throb. My mother spent the following morning holding my hair back as I chucked up every drop of the liquid from my guts.
“Was what I did with Fredrich more than…” I can’t even find it in myself to finish the question.
“By far,” he answers, a smile reaching his eyes. “Do you feel better now? Knowing I never touched my wife?”
Something about the way he says the words causes a low throb between my legs.
He tucks a few strands of my hair behind my ears, still smiling genuinely. “Go take a bath, Jovie.”
For once, I do as I’m told.
In the bathroom, I strip from my dirty clothes and sink into the now-full basin.
My skin prickles from the warmth of the water, and I spend an indulgent amount of time bathing, letting myself relax as I soak.
That is, until I remember that Irina is in the dungeons.
It’s makes me feel guilty enough to propel me from the bath.
I pull on the robe hanging from the rack beside the tub.
When I enter the bedchamber, Acker is lighting the candles on the mantle. An oil lamp is already lit on his desk, and, as he turns to look at me, there’s a glint in the gold of his nose ring when his eyes rake over me. The robe I’m wearing is thin as it clings to my damp skin.
“Stassia is sending up a clean set of clothes along with some dinner,” he says, averting his gaze as he extinguishes the match between his fingers with a flick of his wrist. “I’m going to go wash up. If she returns in the meantime, don’t answer the door.”
Then he disappears into the bathroom.
Sighing, I wander over to the bed before deciding I’m more interested in the work he left unfinished on his desk.
The books range from historical records to straight folklore and every kind of genre and topic in between.
The one open on his desk, however, is on alchemy. Notes are scrawled in the margins.
I grow bored and end up crawling on top of the bed anyway, fatigue hitting me harder than expected. Even though Acker’s been away for weeks, the bedding smells exactly like him. It reminds me of the woods in Roison, where the air is rich with life, but masculine. Intoxicating.
I must have fallen asleep, because when I wake, Acker is leaning over me.
It takes a moment for the sleep to dissipate, but when my mind clears, I note the heaviness of his gaze.
He’s bare-chested, with only a towel around his hips.
Droplets of water cascade over his shoulders. In his hands, chains.
There’s a knock at the door, and by its forceful nature, I’m assuming it’s not the first summons.
“The staff will undoubtedly be given orders to spy on us to ensure I’m doing as I said I would,” he says.
Sitting up, I hold out my hands before me.
Acker unravels the thin links of iron, revealing a single cuff at the end.
I slide my wrist inside the mechanism, and he closes the clasp, lock instantly snapping into place.
I follow the length of chain to where it’s weaved into the iron filigree on the headboard.
Next, he holds up the collar, and I detest the stones around my throat, its heaviness smothering me once again.
Acker pinches my bottom lip between his fingers. “Don’t pout.”
I glare at his back as he makes his way to the door, adjusting the towel around his waist. Testing the length of the chain, I pull on it and find it’s just long enough to reach the width of the bed.
Acker returns with a plate covered with a silver cloche and a pitcher of water.
He sets the pitcher on the nightstand and uncovers the dish.
“I’m not sure we should eat anything the kitchen sends us,” he says, inspecting the plate of food.
“Hallis will be by shortly and I’ll get him to bring us something to eat. ”
It would only be fitting for Edmond to poison me as revenge.
I recall the last time I ate anything, and it was before we left our makeshift camp the night before and it was little more than thin strips of dried meats and a few cubes of cheese.
A far cry from the plate of what appears to be roasted hen and carrots.
My stomach betrays me by grumbling in hunger from the smell permeating the air.
Acker’s gaze flicks up at me, roving over my stomach in thought. Then he picks a carrot and shoves it in his mouth, followed by a torn piece of meat from the hen all before I comprehend what he’s done.
“What are you doing?” I voice, incredulous.
He finishes chewing and swallows before picking up the pitcher of water by the handle.
But I leap across the bed in time to stop him, grabbing the pitcher from him with both hands.
Water sloshes over the side, soaking the front of my robe, and I look up at him from where I’m kneeling in astonishment.
“You just said we shouldn’t eat anything,” I say.
“You’re hungry,” he says, as if the answer is that simple. “And now I’m thirsty, so hand over the water.” When I don’t move, he lifts a brow. “Please.”
“What if you keel over and die?”
“I made the suggestion under an abundance of caution, but I’m sure it’s fine.
My father wouldn’t risk poisoning both of us.
” I slowly pass him the pitcher and watch as he takes a gulp, water spilling down his chin and onto his naked chest. He grins, having caught me obviously ogling, and sets the pitcher down. “Probably, anyway.”
I shove him in the chest. “Ugh. You’re the worst. If you die and I’m left chained to this bed, I’m going to eat the rest just to find you in the afterlife and kill you twice.”
He smiles, catching me by the wrist. “All I heard is that you can’t live without me.”
“Don’t flatter yourself. I’ve managed the last four years just fine.”
Head cocking to the side, his expression turns less teasing, more earnest. “Is that so?” He towers over me as he comes closer, hand still trapped in his grasp, stopping me from pulling away.
With his other hand, he fingers the panel of my dampened robe.
“Tell me all the ways you were fine,” he says.
I’m distracted as his finger coasts between the open material of my robe, across the swell of my breast, down over the raised scar between them from the time he carried me with an arrow lodged in my chest. “I lied,” I say, a tad breathless.
His gaze flicks up to mine, lashes casting shadows across his cheeks. “I know,” he says with a grin.
Then he wraps an arm around my waist and drops me onto my back.
My robe falls further open and his heated gaze rakes down my body right before he presses his lips to mine.
This kiss is unhurried and easy as I wrap my arms around his neck, enjoying his weight over me, his bare chest against my skin.
It’s the reminder I needed that this is the man I trust. With my body, my well-being, my—
Then, like a splash of cold water, I remember Irina’s predicament, the sacrifice she made to buy us time, and I place my hands to Acker’s chest before breaking the kiss.
“Irina,” I say, letting her name hang between us.
He seems to come to the same realization, the moment crashing around us as reality filters back in. Sitting back on his knees, he looks down at me. My robe is rucked up. His towel hanging dangerously low on his hips. He scrubs a hand over his face and into his hair, blowing out a heavy breath.
A knock sounds at the door and his head swivels in its direction. “That must be Hallis.” He leans forward, giving me a swift kiss against my mouth. “Go ahead and eat. I think we’re in the clear.”
I watch him leave the bed and a sense of loss hits me like a wave even though he’s less than a room’s width away. Yes, I may have survived the last four years without him, but it was not easy by any means, and I’m fairly sure it’d be worse if I had to ever do it again.
For the first time in as long as I can remember, fear takes root inside me.