Chapter 27 Submit to Romantic Treatments #2
This was not fair. We were fighting.
He must have sensed the change in my breathing, because his hands slowed, becoming less clinical and more exploratory. His fingers traced the curve of my spine, lingering at the sensitive spot at the base of my neck.
“Arabella,” he said, his voice rough.
“Don’t.” I cut him off, suddenly unable to bear whatever he was about to say. I wasn’t ready to talk about it, to hear his excuses or justifications. Not when the wound was still so raw. “Just… don’t.”
I sat up abruptly, clutching the towel to my body, and slid off the table. “What’s next on this ridiculous spa itinerary?”
Kazimir’s expression shuttered, all traces of vulnerability vanishing. “How should I know?”
A quick glance around the room revealed a small card on a side table. I picked it up, scanning the elegant script. “Looks like we have a mud bath next, followed by the hot springs and a salt scrub.” I looked up at him with a sweetly venomous smile. “Doesn’t that sound delightful?”
His glare could have curdled milk. “I’ll pass on that, too.”
“Oh, no you won’t.” I grabbed my robe and slipped it on. “I’m not having you stand there glaring at me while I try to relax. You can either participate or get out.”
“Those aren’t the only options.”
“They are if you want to maintain our cover.” I yanked the sash tight around my waist. “The Spire expects us to be on our honeymoon. What kind of newlywed husband refuses to join his bride in a mud bath?”
His jaw worked, a muscle ticking in his cheek. “Fine.”
“Great.” I headed for the door, not bothering to check if he was following. “Let’s go roll in some cursed bog essence.”
The mud bath was located in a cavernous room dominated by a large pool of black scented mud. The attendant—yet another cult robe–wearing enthusiast—explained the mud was harvested from the shores of the Lake of Eternal Torment and contained rare minerals that drew toxins from the body.
“It also exfoliates!” she added brightly.
Kazimir looked like he was contemplating murder, but he dutifully removed his clothes once the attendant left. I absolutely did not watch. I definitely didn’t notice the faint violet glow from the scars on his chest, or how the mud barely rippled when he lowered himself into it.
“Are you going to sulk the entire time?” I asked as we settled on opposite sides of the pool. The mud was surprisingly warm and tingled against my skin in a not-unpleasant way.
“Probably.”
We glared at each other across the pool of mud. I was aware of how ridiculous we must look—two powerful sorcerers having a marital spat while covered in magical mud—but I couldn’t bring myself to care.
“Are there any other Syndicate members in residence?” I asked, changing the subject before I said something I’d regret.
Kazimir seemed relieved at the shift. “Not currently, but that means nothing. The Alchemist plays every angle.” He shifted in the mud, grimacing. “This feels like being slowly digested.”
“That’s probably what’s happening.” I sighed, sinking deeper into the pool. The mud made a soft glorp as I shifted position. “Griffin and Sebastian made it back okay last night.”
“I’m aware.” Kazimir’s voice was flat.
I counted to five, reminding myself that we were supposed to be maintaining appearances. “Griffin had a bump on his head. I healed it this morning.”
That got a reaction—Kazimir’s eyes snapped to mine. “What happened?”
“Some amateur tried a demon summoning outside the Gallows. Griffin attempted to help.” I examined my mud-covered fingernails with exaggerated interest. “Apparently, his advice was correct, but the summoner didn’t listen. There was an explosion.”
“Of course there was.” Kaz shook his head. “Was Sebastian with him?”
“They ran into each other afterward. Sebastian seemed fine—a bit embarrassed about something, but fine.” I paused. “Why?”
“Just making sure Griffin followed orders.” I didn’t even need my truth-sense to detect that lie but was too annoyed to push for an explanation.
The mud bath was followed by a visit to the hot springs—a series of pools carved into the bones of the Spire. We sat in separate pools, steam rising between us, pretending the other didn’t exist while being excruciatingly aware of every movement.
Kazimir remained stoic throughout, participating in each treatment with the enthusiasm of a man facing execution.
But his shadows kept twitching at the edges of my vision, and sometimes I would catch a dark expression on his face that went beyond murderous and into more volatile territory.
The salt scrub that followed—performed by sentient loofahs—at least had the benefit of making him wince when they attacked a particularly sensitive spot.
Small victories.
The final treatment was the most awkward—a steam room where we were expected to sit naked and sweat out more “toxins.” I peered down at my pruned fingers, then at the steam rising around us.
After the mud digestion, the volcanic rocks, and the enchanted loofah assault, I was fairly certain if there were any toxins left, they were hiding in some very stubborn corners of my anatomy.
Before leaving, the attendant assured us the steam was infused with rare herbs that promoted “marital harmony and fertility,” which made Kazimir’s scowl deepen to previously uncharted depths.
We sat on opposite benches, carefully not looking at each other.
The heat was intense, making it difficult to breathe, let alone maintain my anger.
I closed my eyes, trying to focus on the sensation rather than the naked man sitting across from me.
But that only made me more aware of the sound of his breathing.
I felt his gaze on me, dark and hungry and full of things he wasn’t saying.
So much for a honeymoon.
Even though I knew our “honeymoon” was a cover story for our real purpose here, I’d still hoped to enjoy myself a little more than I had so far.
The God Spire was fascinating, full of wonders and curiosities I’d never seen before.
Under different circumstances, exploring it with Kazimir might have been fun.
The door swung open, letting in a blast of cooler air as an attendant announced that our time was up and the Alchemist was waiting for us.
The dining chamber was a small, elegant room with a table set for three.
The Alchemist was already seated. Their customary mask was in place over their eyes, but the skin below was a brilliant shade of pink.
Kazimir stepped inside first, putting himself slightly between me and the Alchemist. I noted the protective gesture with a complicated twist of emotion.
“Ah, the happy couple,” they said as we entered. “You look positively radiant, Lady Blackrose.”
“Thank you,” I said, slipping reluctantly into the role of adoring wife as Kazimir pulled out my chair.
Kazimir’s hand lingered on my shoulder as he took his own seat, a possessive gesture that wasn’t entirely for show. Even when we were fighting, there was an undeniable connection between us, a fierce protectiveness that went both ways.
The Alchemist glanced over Kazimir. “Lord Blackrose, your aura is positively crackling with negative energy. Was the massage not long enough?”
“We’re here to discuss business,” Kaz said flatly.
“And we shall.” The Alchemist’s fingers tapped a rhythm against the table. They seemed to decide to let the matter drop. “After we’ve eaten. One should never speak of important matters while hungry—it leads to poor decisions.”
The meal was light but exquisite—delicate pastries filled with what the Alchemist assured us was “ethically sourced” dragon meat (which I declined because Nyx would never forgive me), a salad of rare herbs, and wine that changed color with each sip.
Throughout the meal, Kazimir and I played our parts, exchanging small touches and meaningful glances. If anything, we might have overdone it, my hand resting on his thigh under the table, his arm draped possessively across the back of my chair.
“So refreshing, don’t you think?” The Alchemist settled into their chair with a contented sigh. “Nothing like a good spa day to wash away one’s troubles.”
“Indeed,” I agreed, taking Kazimir’s hand. His fingers interlaced with mine automatically, the gesture so natural it hurt.
“Though one wonders,” he added, his thumb stroking across my knuckles, “why you insisted on meeting here rather than somewhere more conventional.”
“Conventional is so boring.” The Alchemist selected a sugar-dusted pastry in the shape of a tiny dragon. “How was your evening at the Gilded Gallows?”
Kazimir’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I suspect you already know the answer to that.”
“Oh? Did you run into someone you knew?” They bit into the pastry, sending a puff of powdered sugar into the air. The innocent act might have been more convincing if they weren’t literally twinkling with suppressed glee.
“Enough games,” Kazimir growled. “State your business so we can conclude this farce.”
The Alchemist set down their pastry, and suddenly all playfulness vanished from their expression. The shift was so dramatic it felt like the air itself grew heavier.
“Very well,” they said, their musical voice dropping to something more serious. “Let’s discuss why you’re really here, shall we?”
They leaned forward, their ever-shifting robes settling into a deep, midnight blue. “I know you have the Heirloom of Dominion.”