Chapter 16 #2
I place my hand on the mahogany door, feeling a click as I do. Asmo does the same, the door clicking back to locked. I turn to Barrett. “I’m sorry. I think there’s some confusion. Asmo and I need separate rooms.”
Barrett blinks. “Oh. Sorry, I—”
Asmo cuts him off with a charming smile. “No need. One room is great.”
Barrett’s eyebrows draw together. “Okay, well just let me know if something changes,” he says awkwardly before opening the door.
As I pass Asmo, I nudge him in the ribs with my elbow. I swear I hear him chuckle as I enter the guest suite.
The walls are crafted of rough, uneven stone the color of sand, as if the room was carved directly into a mountain.
In the corner, a basin of water is cut into the stone floor, steam rising from the clear water.
There’s a small kitchenette and a private bathroom on the other side of the suite, and an oversized bed draped in white linens is centered on the back wall.
Asmo excuses himself and makes his way to the private bathroom.
“You did great back there. My father…” Barrett rubs the back of his neck as he searches for the right words. “He’s great, but he’s very protective. The last few months have been tough on us.”
I guess I was na?ve to expect King Torben to welcome me without question. “Thank you for convincing him to see us.”
“You’re the High Queen,” he says, like my throne wasn’t just stolen from me.
Like my title has any meaning right now.
“When August came to us and told us the truth, I believed him. I tried to tell my father that there was no way you would allow the witches to roam free, not after what happened that night. But my father…Well,” he says with a grimace, “He didn’t get the chance to know you before the wedding. He didn’t believe August.”
“But he saw me fighting Cora. He was there. He knows what Marik did,” I protest.
Barrett sighs. “You have to understand. It’s been a month of silence. And with reports of you on the throne…We just assumed you were in on it now. When August came, I was so ashamed.”
I give him a sad smile. “It’s okay, Barrett. Thank you for vouching for me. I would be skeptical if I were your father,” I say truthfully.
He smiles, but it falls quickly. “How long are you staying?”
“Just for the night,” Asmo says, sauntering back to us. “We’ll leave after we speak with your father tomorrow.”
Barrett gives us a curt nod. “There’s a lot to discuss, but I’m confident they’ll help. I’ll send someone to wake you early, if that’s okay.”
I nod in approval. “I don’t sleep much these days anyways,” I admit.
His answering smile is sad and full of pity. I hate it.
“See you in the morning, Mae,” he says, then gives Asmo a curt nod. “Asmo.”
Asmo returns it. Cordial, professional. At least he’s not slinging insults or pet names like he tends to do with Koa and August. Barrett closes the door softly behind him, leaving Asmo and me alone for the first time in months.
The last time we were truly alone, with no one in the room next door or down the hall…
Well, the last time was when I was telling him I was marrying his brother.
The silence between us feels stifling and suffocating, yet charged with something that feels almost tangible.
Something that I want to grab and cling to.
There are a million things to say. To ask.
Did you want one room because you can’t stand to be apart from me, like I can’t stand to be apart from you?
Why did you choose me? Why did you reject me?
What are we doing?
Asmo clears his throat, and my chest feels too tight. I mutter some excuse about needing to shower and escape into the private bathroom, desperate to create some distance between us.
The shower is nestled inside a small, stone alcove with a built-in stone bench. With barely a thought, I twist my hand in the air and turn the shower on.
Regret sits on my shoulders as I remember Elle teaching me how to do that. I feel so heavy, so weighed down by everything that’s happened. Everything that we still have to do.
Water rushes from the showerhead, falling onto the stone floor in a soothing, rhythmic pattern. I peel my trousers and blouse from my too-slender frame and toss them into the corner.
My hip bones jut out farther than they did before, and my stomach is flatter than it’s ever been.
My body is a collection of black marks—the one on my chest from Cora’s lightning, the dark magic sigils, and scars from dark creatures’ teeth.
Apparently, dark magic takes a while to heal, but the marks fade with every day.
The one on my chest from Cora’s lightning is still sore.
It doesn’t hurt like it once did, but a brief pain still lingers.
The scar on my ankle from the cambion has faded, but a black outline of its teeth still mars my pale skin, now joined by the black outline of the Cursed wolf’s teeth just above.
I wince as I think about the cambion embedding its sharp teeth into the delicate curvature of Elle’s neck.
Like everything these days, I shove the thought away.
Just like I shove aside the effects of the dark magic whenever we use it. Every time we carve the marks into our skin, my head pounds and my magic comes slower. I swear it gets worse every time.
I can’t imagine being forced to do this every day.
The shower water is freezing, and I don’t bother warming it. The cold water pelts my skin and makes me feel alive, reminds me that I’m still breathing.
I throw my clothes back on and step out of the bathroom.
Asmo is already fast asleep, curled up on the floor in a pile of white pillows and blankets.
I stop and stare at him, waiting for him to move.
But he doesn’t. His chest rises and falls in deep breaths.
His long lashes rest against his cheeks, fluttering slightly. He looks so calm.
My feet are quiet as I pad to the bed, already messy and unmade because of what Asmo stole from the top layers. I sink into the soft mattress and close my eyes.