Chapter 41
Forty-One
The words take a moment to sink in, then thoughts race in my mind. Did someone try to kill him again? Was this Lee’s plan? Or exceptionally good luck? I wet my lips to give myself time to steady my emotions. “I didn’t know he could be injured.”
“Someone must have figured out a way.” He sounds surprised, then clears his throat. “He and Caiden are on their way here so he can recover.”
My mind is at war between hoping he dies before he arrives and hoping he survives so I can be the one to kill him.
“How is Caiden?” I ask.
“They didn’t say anything about him, so I think he’s safe,” Brevan says.
“Oh, good.” My tone is flat.
“I’ll call for the ladies to help you wash and dress,” Brevan says. “Should I send up some food?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“Is there anything else you need, Princess?” He waits in the doorway, one foot already in the hall.
Yes. I want to beg him to stay. To tell him everything I feel. But that will just make things harder. Caiden will be here soon, and I will be his wife. Anything I do with Brevan puts his life in danger. “No.”
When he leaves, it’s like he takes part of me with him. And I know that’s a part he’ll always have.
I let the ladies help me to the bathing chamber and fill the tub but send them out so I can wash alone. When the walk from the door to the bathtub leaves me breathless, I reluctantly call them back.
I’m so weak I need their help to finish undressing. The lady with the brown ringlets gasps, then turns away quickly. She must have seen my scar.
“Childhood accident,” I say, deciding to say something, but keep it vague.
“Bridget,” the other woman scolds.
Bridget turns around. “It’s not the scar, I’m sorry. I’ve just never seen a god’s gift mark before.”
It’s my turn to gasp. “Where?”
“On your back,” the other woman says.
“You didn’t know?” Bridget asks.
“She’s been sleeping since she returned from the temple,” the other woman scolds.
“What does it look like?” I wish there was a way to twist enough to see it.
“You want us to look?” Bridget asks, her voice timid.
“It’s usually kept private,” the other woman explains.
“Please, tell me,” I say. “How else am I to know?”
“It’s—” Bridget starts.
“It’s the twin moons,” the other woman says.
“It’s beautiful,” Bridget adds.
“Do you know anything about the marks? What it might mean?” Aside from having no energy, I feel the same as always. If I had magic, wouldn’t I know?
“I don’t,” Bridget says. “Do you, Clara?”
Clara shakes her head. “They keep all of that very secret. Even my own son didn’t let me see his mark or tell me anything about his visit to the temple.”
“If it helps, I don’t remember what happened,” I say. “They told me that’s normal.”
She chuckles. “That actually does make me feel a bit better. Would you like me to wash your hair?” she asks gently.
I nod, and she begins pouring water over my head. I’ve never had anyone wash my hair before, but it is so relaxing I almost fall asleep again.
When I’m clean, they assist me into a nightgown and robe before guiding me to the small table near the window. There’s soup and bread and apple slices, and even a piece of cake.
“You don’t have to stay. I’m sure you’d rather be elsewhere.” They’ve been so kind, and I don’t want to be a burden.
“The enforcer asked us to keep watch over you,” Clara says.
Knowing they were sent by Brevan makes me like them even more. “Would you like to join me? There’s plenty of food.”
Clara waves her hand dismissively. “We already had dinner, Your Highness.”
“Would you like to sit, at least? Maybe have some dessert?” The slice is more like a quarter of a cake.
“Are you sure?” Bridget asks. Clara elbows her. “We’re not hungry.”
“Please. I don’t want to eat alone.”
They exchange a glance, then finally sit at the table with me.
Bridget looks excited when I shove the cake toward her.
“Thank you for your help,” I tell them and push a fork and knife toward them. “They only gave me one of each, but I won’t tell if you want to use your hands.”
They smile, and Bridget takes the fork and starts eating the cake.
I try the soup. The broth is warm and flavorful, and it soothes my still-dry throat. “Tell me about yourselves.”
We make small talk, with me letting them do most of the talking. They seem nice, but our conversation is very surface level, which is fine with me.
The food helps me feel stronger and I force myself to eat most of the soup.
“Would you like anything else, Your Highness?” Clara asks.
“No, thank you. I think I’d like to rest again,” I say. “And can you send Brevan—I mean, the enforcer in?”
“Of course,” Clara says.
“I hope we see you again soon,” Bridget says.
“Thank you for your help, ladies,” I say.
They’re only gone a few minutes before Brevan enters my room and says, “They could have stayed with you all night.”
“I have a mark,” I announce before I even have time to process what he just said. “Sorry. That just came out. The ladies were very kind, but I prefer privacy.”
He nods. “I thought so, but I wish you would have accepted their assistance. You’re likely still recovering.”
“I’m fine,” I assure him. “You know about the mark, don’t you?”
“Well, the woman who dressed you saw it. She told me you had one.”
“What does it mean?” I ask.
“It’s somehow linked to the gift the gods gave you, though it’s not always clear how.”
“I don’t feel any different.” I toy with the belt of my dressing gown. “How do I know if I even got a gift?”
“You did.”
“But I haven’t done anything. I haven’t summoned shadows or lit anything on fire.” My shoulders slump. What if something is wrong with me?
“It will show up eventually. Sometimes it takes a while. There’s things you can do to test it, to learn how to wield it. But after you rest more. It’s too soon.”
I ignore his advice. I’ve been resting for too long. “Did she tell you what my mark was?”
“No.”
I rise from the bed, then untie the robe and shrug it off my shoulders. It falls to the floor around my ankles. I’m wearing a nightgown with small straps on each shoulder. “I want to know what it looks like. The ladies who helped me were not very specific.”
“I should tell you to put that robe back on.” The look in his eyes tells me he won’t.
I push one of the nightgown’s straps down. “Do you want to see it?”
He runs a hand though his hair. “I should say no.”
“But?”
“But I don’t want to.”
I lower the other strap so only my hand is holding the nightgown over my breasts. Then I turn my back to him and let the fabric drop to my waist.
He’s quiet a long moment, and I start to get nervous. “Is something wrong?”
“It’s stunning,” he says. “The twin moons. One is full, the other a crescent. Below them is a raven, with its wings open.”
“A raven? Can you trace it for me? Show me where it is?”
I shiver as he drags his fingertip gently across the left side of my back. “This is the full moon.” He moves to the other side. “This is the crescent.” Then his hand drops lower. “This is the raven. Here is the head, the beak, one wing, the other wing, and the tail.”
“Thank you.” I slide the nightgown back over my shoulders, then turn to face him. I know the fabric is thin enough that he can see my nipples through it. “Can I see yours?”
He lifts his tunic over his head and holds it in one hand.
Swirls of black cover his chest and arms. I move closer and place my finger on one of the swirls at his shoulder, then trace it down to his forearm.
It spirals around his forearm, then ends in points at the base of his hand.
Another circle crosses over, just above his wrist. It’s different than the other markings.
There are leaves on it, like a vine. But only on that one part.
The rest of the swirls are undulating lines.
“How did I not notice those leaves before?” I ask.
“They’re new. Appeared the night of that rebel attack,” he says.
My brow furrows. “You can get new markings?”
“Yes. Usually they’re small. I’ve noticed it tends to happen when I learn to do something new with my magic. But sometimes, I’m not sure what causes it.”
“They’re really beautiful,” I tell him. “I’m glad you’re sharing them with me.”
“There’s more.” He turns so his back faces me, and I suck in a breath when I see the mark there. It’s the moons. Both of them—one crescent, one full. “Is it the same as mine?”
“They’re on opposite sides,” he says. “But I think they’re a mirror image to yours.”
“Does everyone have the moons?” I ask.
“No.”
I return my gaze to Brevan’s back. Under the moons, he also has an animal. “That’s a dragon.” Between the blood and my attempt to be respectful, I hadn’t seen the details of his markings before.
“Yes.”
“This is beautiful.” I trace the shape of the creature, following its head, along to the body, through the wings. “It’s life.”
He turns around, his brow furrowed with a silent question.
“Your dragon. Dragons represent life. At least they used to, before they were gone,” I say. “And ravens are death. They’re opposites. Like our moons. What does that mean?”
He takes my hands in his. “I’m not sure, but right now, I’m glad Caiden has never seen my mark.”
“How is that possible?” I ask.
“Marks are supposed to be private. We avoid looking and keep them covered,” he says. “If he knew mine was the opposite of yours…”
“I don’t want him to see mine,” I say. “I don’t want him to see anything.”
“I know, Sabina.”
“Brevan?” I want to tell him. I want to tell him everything. I want to hear my name on his lips. My real name. I want him to know how I feel. I want to know everything about him and experience everything with him.
“Yes?” He looks at me expectantly.
Anya.
If I break, Anya is dead. We’re both dead.
“When will Caiden and the emperor return?” I ask instead.
“Probably tomorrow.” He releases my hands.
“I should get some rest, then.” I pick up the robe from where I abandoned it on the floor earlier and pull it over my shoulders.
“I’ll be outside. If you need anything, call for me.” He tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “Get some rest, Princess.”
I walk him to the door, then lean against it as soon as it’s shut.
What am I doing? I’m in so deep at this point I can hardly remember who I am anymore.
Everything is wrong. I want to forget for a little while.
Without the worry of the rebellion or my dead family, or that I was supposed to kill the emperor and then not to kill him.
And that somehow, I have a god’s gift mark and magic of some kind that I have yet to figure out.
I am so fucking tired of all of it. Of feeling angry and confused and sad and all the things all the time. I need a few minutes where I can stop thinking and just exist. Without all the life-and-death pressure.
The only good thing in this place is standing behind that door, and I can’t even touch him.
A knock startles me, and I step back, then open the door. Brevan fills the doorway. “I know I should walk away.”
I grab his tunic and pull him into my room.