Chapter 22
H er eyes opened. It was silent, but the crystal lamps were fully lit, giving the room a violet hue that was brighter than the diluted light from the night before.
She sat up with the satin sheets pooled at her hips. Shikra was not beside her. Her hand brushed over the space where he had been; it was cold.
Her brow furrowed as she listened, but there was nothing. No water splashing in the bath, no whispers of words beyond the door.
A strange tightness welled in her chest.
She got out of bed and padded softly on the cool stone tile toward the bath. There was lukewarm water left in the tub, and his laundered clothes were gone.
He’d bathed and left.
Her pulse thundered. Her knees shook. She had to sit down.
He’d taken what he wanted and abandoned her, and left her alone in a Dark Elf town. She’d be caught and enslaved. Perhaps by the same son of House Darkmoon from yesterday.
Shikra had saved her life, but that was before he got what he wanted from her. After everything, he couldn’t be relied upon, not anymore.
It was a good thing she already knew the way back to the surface and closed her eyes, mentally retracing their path in her mind. It would take half a day. But getting out would be dangerous.
First, she had to escape this room. That alone was a risk. Dark Elves swarmed below, and after last night’s scene, they all knew her face.
That bastard!
Her eyes brimmed with tears. Memories of the intimacy of the night came back in flashes. His head between her legs; her mouth and hands wrapped around him, pleasuring him.
A shiver passed through her flesh.
She had lost control. Her body and … sexual needs took over her mind. They’d gotten too close. She’d only known him for a few days and—the things she let him do to her and that she did to him—the assassin who killed Lindana.
Something was wrong with her. This wasn’t who she was. She was strong-minded, disciplined, chaste out of conviction, out of her duty to Lindana, and that duty had fallen to the wayside last night.
She could have smiled back at the males during soldier training who offered her sweet words and flirtatious glances, but she was too serious back then and ruthless to her male pursuers, focused only on the advancement of her rank as a soldier.
How did Shikra worm himself into her trust, into her bed so easily?
He was a rogue. She knew this but was placated by his charming wiles and handsome face, all the while knowing he was an assassin and a Dark Elf who couldn’t be trusted. Either her need for sexual pleasure was taxing, or her lust for him ran deep.
If this was what she truly wanted, then the aftermath tasted bitter in her mouth.
Look at what it cost her—freedom, justice in finding who gave the order for Lindana’s murder, and … justice for herself for everything she’d been through and for everything taken from her.
Sniffling, she wiped the tears away with her hands.
Think rationally.
He was gone. That much was true. But did that mean he wouldn’t come back?
No.
He was unreliable. She was stronger than this and had it in her to get through without him. It would be difficult, and she would need careful planning, but she could do it.
Take things one step at a time. Think about the here and now.
Eyes closed, she took a deep breath. When she opened them again, something caught her attention on the dresser: her freshly laundered clothes.
But something else lay folded beside them...
She picked it up and brought it to her nose, inhaling it. The scents, traces of him, were gone after it was laundered, and now it smelled only fresh and clean.
His black hooded cloak. He’d left it here for her. Was this a parting gift? To make it easier for her to escape? Maybe it was, or maybe he just forgot it.
The sound of the door opening sent her heart racing. Having no time to react properly, she covered her front part with the cloak.
Shikra walked into the room and gave her a quick glance. He carried something wrapped in leather in his hand.
“We’re about a day and a half’s journey from Myrkheim. And we have to take a boat to get there.” He then uttered under his breath, “Past the great Houses of the greatest families, and a famous brothel, so it’s left to you to figure out how the two are connected.”
“Look away!” She ducked behind the divider.
He peered over at her past the divider as he popped a grape in his mouth.
Where did he get those?
“No need to be shy, little flower. I already saw all of you last night.” He gave her a seductive look as he licked another grape he held between his fingers, mimicking his tongue from last night, and her reddened, embarrassed face made him laugh. He then popped the grape in his mouth and ate it.
“Just, please, I need to … bathe!” She hurriedly closed the divider, blocking his view.
His laughter made her cheeks flame.
She ran a bath and washed herself as quickly as she could. After she got out and dried off, she thought about why she was so angry with him.
He came back. He didn’t abandon her.
But, in truth, it was herself she was mad at. She’d wandered so far from her original intentions. She was supposed to be the one getting him to lower his guard and get the information she needed from him, not be taken in by his seduction.
She snaked her bare arm around the divider to grab her clothes from the dresser, but her grasping hand met nothing but air.
Someone then placed her clothes in her hands for her.
She grabbed them and pulled her hand back.
“Thank you,” she said loudly for emphasis.
She could have reached them; she didn’t need his help.
Her clothes smelled fresh, and they glided smoothly onto her soapy, clean skin.
All of this, the comforts, the room, and food, were paid for with Lindana’s blood money.
And here she was enjoying herself with clean clothes, hearty meals, baths in the evening and morning, and nights of unbridled ecstasy.
Aelrie, you are a spy. Lying, seducing, betraying, these are all parts of the game.
This is what she told herself. She would lie, cheat, and steal, and even sleep with a devil if she had to, if it only got her closer to her revenge.
She opened the divider once she was fully dressed and saw him seated at the table next to the bed.
He was testing the weight of one of two long daggers, balancing it on his finger.
They were a set of twin daggers, both the color of obsidian, black and shiny, and what was wrapped in leather, which he’d carried in with him.
Lindana’s blood money afforded him shiny new blades.
He didn’t acknowledge her as she sat opposite him and checked his other blade. A small bunch of grapes was set on the table for her to have.
She took a round red grape and rolled it around her index finger and thumb as she watched him. This assassin, who killed for coin, was different from a soldier who kills to protect. Their sense of morality was incompatible.
Despite this, he was amiable towards her, and handsome, very handsome, but a rogue, which most females claim they hate in a male but secretly fantasize about in their dreams at night.
He was flirtatious, and that wasn’t all just talk.
He was good in bed. Made her scream. Ruined her for life.
After she had a taste of him, she doubted any others could satisfy her the same way sexually.
She took a deep breath and continued to stare at him. He kept his attention on his dagger.
His skill with the blade was unmatched. He was fast, and deadly, efficient.
But he was also kind, and he did not kill her, even when his instincts should have warned him to.
This contradiction intrigued her. There was something more to him than a beautiful ladykiller and murderer. She had to figure him out if she ever hoped to beat him at his own game.
She then ate the grape before she forgot about it. Sweet, juicy, perfectly ripened in the early fall sun.
There was a knock at the door. Shikra placed a dagger on the table and took the other with him. “Stay here,” he told her, and got up to answer it.
When he opened the door, she heard, “Your breakfast, kyr ,” from the hall.
Shikra made way as a Dark Elf came into the room carrying a tray with a pot of stew, a plate of flatbread, and a carafe of water. The Dark Elf stopped in his tracks when he saw her sitting at the table he was about to set for their breakfast.
“Well, go on,” Shikra goaded, gesturing with his dagger to the table. “Set the table.”
The server hesitated for a moment. He probably wanted to say something about slaves not being allowed to dine here, or something to that effect. But his quick glance at Shikra and his dagger pointed to the table ceased his objection, and he only answered with, “Yes, right away, kyr .”
Shikra sat down and took the other dagger from the table because the server’s hands shook, rattling the glasses as he tried to place them down.
The server set the table as quickly as he could and bowed, walking backwards out of the room. She was sure he broke out into a run once he reached the hall. Shikra glared as he watched the servant scurry away. “Eat up,” he then piped up as if he didn’t just scare the life out of that poor elf.
Intimidation. He was also good at that. One look from him could turn anyone cold. That was quite an arsenal he had. She would need to build her arsenal as well.
Shikra had already begun to eat, so Aelrie helped herself. This meal was different from the stew last night. It had large chunks of meat and a variety of mushrooms.
She watched as Shikra ate. He dragged the bread into the stew and scooped meat and mushrooms up to eat with it.
The stew was good, albeit a little too salty. She remedied that by taking a long drink of water and eating some more of the grapes.
Shikra used a napkin to wipe his mouth and stood up. He picked up the cloak from the dresser.
“Wear the hood at all times,” he told her as he turned to her.