Chapter 52 After
After
Iknow something is wrong before the door opens.
The air changes, not something I can see but something I feel, pressing into the room with a weight that does not belong to quiet or rest. Fiorakis stirs in my arms, a small restless sound leaving her as she presses closer.
Ari sleeps beside me, undisturbed, one hand open against the blanket.
I tighten my hold on her. The door opens. Colsar steps inside and blood marks him first, across his mouth and jaw and hands, bruising already forming beneath his skin along his cheek and into his shoulder, the fabric pulled tighter across his ribs.
He stops. Sees me.
I push myself upright before I can think better of it, and pain tears through me immediately, dragging a sound from my throat.
He is at my side before I finish making it.
"Do not move," he says, his voice rough.
"I am fine."
"You are not."
His hand braces my back, the other steadying Fiorakis as I shift her higher. The pain lingers, heavy and pulling, but I breathe through it and look at him.
"What happened?"
He does not answer right away. Then, "He was here."
My fingers tighten around Fiorakis. “Who?”
“Teorin.”
"Why?"
"He said he came with a message," Colsar replies. "That you were in danger."
I hold his eyes. "He lies so much it would not have mattered what he said."
Something in his expression tightens further. "I did not let him finish."
I pause. "You did not let him say what the danger was?"
"No. I had no interest in hearing it."
I study him. There is too much blood for it to have ended at words. "You fought him."
"Yes."
"Did you kill him?"
"No." A brief pause. "I was told not to."
I adjust Fiorakis in my arms. She lets out a small protest, her mouth searching, frustrated. "What else did he say?"
Colsar is quiet for a moment. "He asked where you were. More than once."
"How did he know I was not here?"
"The scent maskers that we drank," I say before he can answer.
Colsar nods. "He noticed," he says. "That I did not carry your scent."
"That makes sense."
Fiorakis lets out another sound, louder this time, her small body tensing. I shift her and try to guide her but she pulls away, frustrated, and Colsar reaches for her without being asked.
She settles against him at first and then begins fussing again, her head turning, searching.
I exhale quietly. "We need to find a way to give her blood that is not ours. Or she needs to learn to enjoy milk."
Colsar glances down at her, then without hesitation his lip lifts slightly and he bites into his own wrist. The skin breaks easily. Blood wells at once. "I do not mind," he says, and brings his wrist to her mouth.
She latches immediately. The tension leaves her small body and she presses her tiny hands against his skin as though anchoring herself there, completely content.
I watch them. Something about it still feels unreal. "She prefers it," I say quietly.
"Of course she does." There is something almost satisfied in his voice.
Ari stirs faintly beside me as though aware of the shift, but does not wake.
I look back at Colsar. "What else did he say?"
His expression shifts. "He said if he chose to save you again, he might decide not to give you back." He pauses. "He brought up Rathmor law. Said if I died, you would become his. That our children would become his."
I stare at him. “I am fairly certain that is not how it works. I would become Sevrin’s. He is the oldest legitimate son.” I pause.“Although…Sevrin is still a bastard, even if he has been legitimized.”
Colsar frowns at me.
I wave it off. "Not that it matters."
“Teorin believes it does."
"I'm sure he does." I shift slightly, ignoring the pull through my abdomen, and meet his eyes.
"He deceived me once and that is exactly why I trust nothing he says.
And him claiming he could ever have any part of me is laughable.
" Something in Colsar holds tight and I do not soften it.
"And you getting upset over it is ridiculous.
He deals in manipulation and advantage. That is what this is. He provoked you deliberately."
"Yes."
"And you almost killed him."
"Yes."
Fiorakis continues feeding, completely content. I reach for Colsar, my hand coming to his face, and he goes still under the touch.
"You should have let him talk," I say quietly.
"I am not interested in anything he has to offer."
"That does not make it untrue."
Silence stretches between us.
Then, "He also said that eventually you would see me for what I am and leave."
I look at him. At the blood. At the bruising. At the way he is still holding himself together by force.
"And?" I say.
He does not answer.
I let my thumb brush lightly across his jaw. "There is not a single part of me that is going anywhere. Not after everything it took to get here."
Fiorakis makes a soft sound against him, still feeding. Colsar looks down at her, then at Ari, then back at me.
"He thinks I would lose you," he says.
"You nearly did," I say. His eyes lift. "But not to him."
That sits between us. He exhales once and some of the tension eases.
"I will deal with him," he says.
"No." His attention returns fully. "We will deal with him," I correct.
He watches me. Then nods once.
Fiorakis finally loosens her grip, her mouth slipping free as she lets out a small satisfied sound. Colsar pulls his wrist back, wipes the blood lightly with his thumb, and adjusts her against his chest. She presses into him completely content.
He looks down at her. Then at Ari. Then back at me. "You should rest."
"I am talking to you."
"You can do both."
I almost smile. Almost. "I will," I say.
He moves closer as I ease back against the pillows, his hand at my back guiding me down. The pain pulls again but once I am still it becomes something I can manage.
He remains beside the bed, Fiorakis in his arms, Ari within reach.
"You should clean that," I say, nodding toward the blood on his face.
"It can wait."
"It is on your face."
"It can still wait."
That almost earns something from me. Almost.
I close my eyes briefly, then open them again. "If he comes near me," I say quietly, "I will handle it."
Colsar looks at me and something in him tightens and then holds.
"I know," he says.
And this time he means it.
A knock comes at the door.
Colsar’s head lifts slightly at the sound, his attention shifting even before the second knock lands, quieter this time, more controlled.
“Enter.”
Arabar steps inside and closes the door behind him without haste.
I do not move. I watch from the bed, Fiorakis still warm where she had been.
His eyes move once across the room, not lingering on me, but taking in the space and exits before settling on Colsar.
“You should be resting, Majesty,” he says.
Colsar does not respond to that. “Report.”
Arabar inclines his head slightly. “I retraced the path you took and every safehouse you visited. The coordinates you were given did not match the route laid by the underground network.”
Colsar does not look surprised. “The man who gave them?”
“We found him,” Arabar replies. A brief pause follows, just long enough to matter. “He had already turned when we arrived.”
“Thren?”
“Yes.”
Arabar’s voice stays even. “What was left of him was already changing. We put him down.”
Another pause. Then—
“He carried a purse of fresh coin. Untouched.”
Colsar holds out his hand. Arabar places it in his palm. Thrykin silk. Rathmor’s sigil, embroidered into the fold.
Colsar lets out a quiet, humorless sound. “Always lying,” he says. “Always pretending to be something else.”
A brief pause.
“Teorin.”