Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
“Time to wake up, love.”
Hard tiles dig into my bare hips and arms. Light leaks through my lashes as I force my heavy eyes open.
The barest breath of dawn has snuck through the stained-glass windows, washing the pale stone and gilded columns in dewy rainbows.
Something has been thrown over my body to keep me warm and something else is tucked under my head in a weak attempt to shield me from the unforgiving marble.
A hand comes to my shoulder; I whimper in sleepy shock at the fire that floods down my spine.
I push myself off the floor, twisting to blink blearily at Idris.
He’s still shirtless, lying next to me, that red scorpion tail tattoo on display for all to see.
He doesn’t look like he slept at all. He smiles at me, but those sharp eyes study my face with glinting concern.
“Come on, let’s get out of here before people find us,” Idris says softly and gets to his feet.
I twist into a seated position, realising it’s his cloak currently acting as my blanket and his tunic fashions my pillow. He must’ve done that after I passed out.
I don’t look at him as I put right my nightdress and hand him back his tunic.
Whatever it was inside me that broke last night, I’m not proud of it.
In the cold light of day, last night feels like something from another dark, desperate world.
I get to my feet and wrap my arms around my middle.
I take a deep breath, trying to settle my nerves as I look down at my bare, dirty feet on the black and white tiled floor.
“Here,” Idris says, wrapping his cloak over my shoulders, the barest touch of his fingers against my collar flooding my skin with sparks. “This should keep you a bit warmer.”
I nod and pull it tightly around my body.
It smells like him, the waft of lavender and mint fresh and fierce.
I sink my fingers more tightly into the green velvet fabric, scared to let it go.
I follow a pace behind him as we head for the door.
He opens it for me, gesturing me outside.
The sky is a watery gold, the clouds a fine swirling mist of amber over our heads as birds sweep and dive from roof to roof.
“Shoes,” Idris says, frowning at my feet. It commands my attention like a whip. I clear my throat, wishing I could hide my grubby toes from his view.
“We won’t find a spare carriage at this hour.
I’d offer to carry you, but you’d refuse.
” Idris chuckles and gives me a teasing nudge.
I manage to muster a tense smile as we walk down the steps slowly.
My neck is brutalised, throbbing with molten waves of fire caused by last night’s attack.
Bruises have flourished on my arms and legs, slowly dripping their aching venom into my veins.
A crack has scabbed over on my lower lip.
With mangled hair and a ruined nightdress, I must be a terrifying state to behold.
At the base of the steps, Idris slowly reaches for me. He dips beneath the cloak, claiming one of my hands and lifting it to his lips. He kisses it slowly, eyes fixed on my face for some kind of sign.
“I think the dock is closer than either of our houses,” Idris says gently. “We can find you some shoes and clothes there if that works for you?”
I hesitate, remembering that awful mural from the other day. The glares from the dock workers. I swallow and my throat aches.
“I’m not welcome there,” I say in a small voice. Each word burns as it fights the swollen, bruised flesh to make an appearance on my lips. Idris’s eyes tighten, his fingers running over my hand as he steps closer.
“You’re always welcome wherever I am,” Idris says softly. “I promise, you’re safe with me.”
I want to argue, but I don’t have it in me.
“Okay,” I manage. Idris smiles, strong, searing fingers so tightly wrapped around mine they might be welded together. Idris doesn’t hurry me. He keeps his steps shallow and slow as I walk. My ankle complains fiercely with each step, but I’m sure with some rest there will be no long-term damage.
We walk quietly, not daring to say much to each other as I follow Idris’s lead through the winding streets. There is barely a soul to be seen. Halice is the domain of the early birds, and the occasional cat that scampers between the pale stone buildings and the cobbled streets.
We round the corner and I stop sharply. Two men stand at the other end of the street; they haven’t even seen us. The rope burns on my neck flare in the darkness and my free hand snakes out of the cloak to hold the wound with trembling fingers.
“You’re okay. You’re safe. I promise, you’re safe,” Idris whispers, pulling me closer to him.
He drops my hand only to snake that arm around me, holding me against his searing body and pressing his razor-like lips against my ear.
I nod quietly as we keep walking. I don’t dare look at the men, don’t dare see what I’m sure is loathing and disappointment in their eyes.
I turn my face into Idris’s chest, wishing I could bury myself in his fire.
We pass them without so much as a word in our direction.
“Okay, this way,” Idris says, taking me a back route away from the main roads.
It doesn’t take long to reach the docks.
The boats creak and rock side to side in silent greeting.
The water chuckles, the gurgling blue jumping and giddy with morning energy.
A few early dock hands loiter. I know people are staring as Idris leads me to his office.
He fishes the key out of his trouser pocket and shows me inside.
“The bathroom is through the back. There should still be some water drawn from yesterday you can use to scrub up if you want. I have a fresh set of clothes upstairs. I’ll leave them on the seat outside for you,” Idris says quietly.
I hesitate, fingers clutching at the cloak. He steps forwards, kissing the top of my head with gentle, blistering care.
“I’ll be here the whole time,” he promises softly. I nod, swallowing as I turn and head for the bathroom.
I close the door behind me, gasping for breath as the sensation of Idris slowly drains from my blood.
I know he’s still in the building, logically I know.
But the absence of his violent presence is like dunking my head in the frozen ocean.
I swallow a shuddering breath as I press my fingers to my lips.
Come on, Renza. Pull yourself together.
I turn slowly, catching sight of myself in the mirror.
Fate’s Fury, I look awful! Split lip, the faint memory of dried red blood smeared down my chin.
A ghostly bruise from the backhand hovering like a violet spectre across my cheek.
My throat, however, is red raw, with bruises wrapping around it like a venomous snake.
I blink hard and raise a trembling hand to the marks the rope left on my fragile skin.
I take my hand away and suck in a breath through my nose.
Time to get to work. I get the remains of the fresh water from the basin and fill the sink.
I scrub my feet and face, trying to wipe the grime of the night away.
I comb my hair with my fingers, using the water to tame what my rough finger brushing won’t.
My hair falls free around my face – I can’t remember the last time I wore it in anything other than my usual low ponytail style out and about in public.
When I’m as clean as possible with just the basin, I crack the door open.
Waiting on a chair outside, just like he’d promised, is a pile of clothes and a small but clean towel.
I make short work of putting them on. Of course, these are all in the masculine style but I don’t really care.
They’re clean and, importantly, decent. The simple cinnamon-coloured tunic is soft against my body, the sleeves bunching at the elbow with decorative pins.
The dark leggings are too long so I roll the cuff a few times.
The belt is too long for my waist, so I wrap it twice around before buckling it, the tail off to one side.
When I push the door of the bathroom open, Idris is waiting for me, holding out a pair of boots with some socks.
“Where did you—?”
“I have to have some secrets,” he says, cutting me off with a wink. I take them gratefully, handing him back his cloak before sitting on the chair. I pull the socks over my aching feet, trying not to wince at my swollen ankle, and start lacing up the strong boots.
“Breakfast?” Idris asks, eyes glued to my feet for a long moment. I shake my head, tugging sharply at the laces.
“I need to make sure Giulia is okay.”
“I sent Royah over there last night when we came to find you,” Idris counters. “She’s fine.”
“I need to handle the fallout—”
“Handled,” promises Idris with a little venom. “Anyone not already dead is in prison, awaiting execution for treason. For attempting to kill the Maestrus and betraying their country, they deserve no less.”
I swallow tightly, looking up at the fire in Idris’s eyes. The violence and rage still burning there from last night. He means it. He got every last one.
How many people died in my home and how many are in a cell?
I turn my eyes back down as I finish tying up my last boot, fingers slipping a little on the final knot.
“Then I should—”
Idris walks forwards, kneeling down next to me. Fire lights at the back of my throat, my pulse barbed with every beat. His hot hands wrap over my cold, fumbling fingers and steal all words from my lips.
“Please. We need to talk,” he says softly. My shoulders drop. He’s right.
“Okay,” I agree in a whisper. He finishes tying up my boot for me before taking my hands in his and inspecting my nails.
“How long have you been using Red Root?” he asks quietly.
“Sleep doesn’t come easily right now,” I answer, clearing my throat. “The doctor recommended it.” Idris runs a boiling finger over each of the nails, looking like he wants to wipe the faint stains away.
“Alfie said that.”