Chapter 27 #2
Lying there, listening to his steady breathing, it would have been so easy to slip from the bed and explore if it weren’t for her power not working right. Even in her dreams, it had still taken control. Taking her somewhere she hadn’t intended to go.
The second night he’d slept in the bed with her, he’d been gone when she’d woken, so she had no idea if they’d woken in the same position or another.
Glancing at the small clock on the mantel across the room, she figured she’d better get up.
Razik became grumpier than usual if they stayed in the rooms too long.
She didn’t mind leaving, so she let the male escort her around the castle and Aimonway.
It was good for her to get to know the halls and local markets, but even Razik didn’t take her from the city, despite his obvious contempt for Cethin.
Anything involving leaving Aimonway seemed to take at least a day’s worth of planning, if not a week.
It’d become routine to wander through all the rooms on their floor, making sure no one else was here. Then she made her way to the main bathing chamber, leaving the door open so she could hear if anyone entered.
She pulled her nightdress off, rinsed her mouth, and piled her hair atop her head before climbing into the filling tub of hot water.
According to Cethin, those with fire magic heated the tanks of water that were pumped throughout the castle.
In the mortal kingdoms across the sea, only the wealthy had such a luxury, and their tanks weren’t heated by magic since magic couldn’t be found in the mortal lands.
But in Avonleya, at least in Aimonway, it seemed fairly standard.
It was why she’d been surprised to learn Tenebrae Halls didn’t have the ability.
Choosing from the array of oils and salts along the ledge, she dumped something in that smelled faintly like juniper berries and lavender before tipping her head back.
Her hand glided through the water, playing with the small bubbles that took over the surface, while the other hand toyed with the crystal that still hung around her neck.
It had started out as a symbol of her control against Cethin, something to irritate him, but it had since become a comfort in a way.
Like the Mark on her arm in her dreams, she supposed.
She’d been here for weeks now. The Union Celebration was approaching quickly, and she was no closer to figuring out the mess with her power. There was so much of it not working. Yes, not being able to move through her smoke and ashes was an issue. A big fucking problem.
But also…
Cethin had been stabbed with her dagger and pierced with her arrow and had survived both encounters.
No one else had ever survived when struck with those weapons.
Her other daggers, sure. The arrows not woven with her magic, yes.
But Cethin had survived both of her weapons that were created from her magic.
How?
And why couldn’t she move through her smoke and ashes?
For the briefest of moments in that dream, she’d felt like herself again.
Whole. Complete despite her physical body being nothing but ashes.
It was something that had always been hers.
The one freedom no one could take from her, and now it was eluding her.
As if she’d somehow failed her magic, and now it was punishing her for it.
It was messing with her on every level. She was getting too distracted.
She was missing things that should be obvious, feeling too out of sorts.
As if every step was on uneven ground and she couldn’t find her footing.
They’d told her. Warned her that something like this could happen.
They’d told her it was why they pushed her to have absolute control over her magic.
Maybe they’d been right all along. Maybe all that agony and torture had been necessary.
But others learned to control their magic without such extreme measures.
Then again, there weren’t many like her.
They’d warned her about that too.
How she’d be hunted for her abilities.
So she’d vowed to become the hunter.
She had people to protect just as much as Cethin did.
Despite what he thought, she did understand the responsibility of protecting people.
She knew he thought her selfish and cold for withholding her weapons, but she wondered if he’d ever considered why.
Or did he truly think that was who she was?
That couldn’t be true, or he wouldn’t have made her his queen.
Then again, he would clearly do whatever it took to get what he wanted.
She sank deeper into the tub, water lapping at her chin as her dream flitted through her mind.
The feel of his heartbeat beneath her palm.
The stubble along his jaw. His breath on the pad of her thumb.
She’d marveled at it, and it had all made her so…
curious. It almost made her understand the allure of physical contact.
But she’d been the one doing the touching, not the other way around.
Her eyes had fallen closed as the relaxing scents wafted around her.
If it weren’t for the ache in her stomach, she’d sit in here for hours.
But she’d become accustomed to regular meals since coming here.
Hunger used to be something she could easily ignore, but not when eating properly replaced the habit of eating once every other day.
The sound of the door and heavy footsteps had her opening her eyes and staring at the doorway.
Razik usually called out for her, only venturing back to the bedchamber if she didn’t answer, but these footfalls were getting nearer.
Sure enough, Cethin came through the door, and it took him far longer than it should have for him to notice her in the tub.
His head was down, hand running through his hair before he pulled his tunic over his head.
When he turned to presumably start the water for a bath, he came to an abrupt halt at seeing her in the tub. He blinked several times, eyes scanning the receding bubbles before he finally managed to drag his gaze to her face. He looked…tired. Exhausted.
Her head canted to the side a little as she said, “You didn’t sleep.”
He swallowed thickly, and she remembered the feel of that action beneath her fingers. Would it feel different outside her dreams?
“Sleep is often a luxury,” he replied, his voice husky and gruff.
“You’re the king,” she said simply.
“I don’t know why everyone seems to think I need reminding of that lately,” he grumbled petulantly, turning to a sink to rinse his mouth and clean his teeth.
When he did so, she saw the dried blood on his arm, and her eyes narrowed. “Did someone else stab you?”
“What?” he asked, still focused on his tasks. She could swear there was a slight tremor in his hand. But then he seemed to realize what she was referring to, rubbing at the dried smear of red. His sigh was heavy. “No, Kailia. That is something reserved just for you.”
For whatever reason, the words made her feel something warm in her chest. She may not be adept at social interactions, but even she knew she didn’t want to examine the reason for that feeling too closely.
He turned off the sink faucet, using a hand towel to wipe his mouth as he turned back to her. Leaning against the sink counter and bracing his hands behind him, he said, “I apologize for bursting in on you. I didn’t think you’d still be here at this time.”
“I believe I’ve been in the bath longer than I thought,” she replied. “I think I lost track of time.”
He hummed, still watching her.
“Where do you go?” she asked, swiping her fingers through the water. “When the rest of the kingdom sleeps,” she clarified.
“To my study,” he answered.
“Not every night,” she countered.
His brows arched, and his lips tilted up in that cocky grin. Or they tried to. He was clearly too exhausted to muster much. “Have you gone looking for me, tiny fiend?”
“At times,” she replied. “Only once have I found you there.”
“How often?”
She shrugged, the water rippling with the movement. “Enough to know that’s not where you go most nights.”
“And then?”
“Then what?” she asked in confusion.
“When you don’t find me, do you simply come back to bed and sleep?”
She shifted, maneuvering so she could rest her arms on the edge of the tub and face him more. His eyes never left her, and she rested her chin atop her arms when she said, “The first few times, I searched some, but when it became clear you did not wish to be found, yes. I returned to these rooms.”
Never mind the fact that if she could use her magic, that wouldn’t have been the case. She would have flitted through the castle until she’d found wherever he hid in the nights.
Cethin nodded, and even though he was looking at her, she could swear he wasn’t looking at her.
As if he were seeing through her, too lost in his thoughts.
Despite his obvious exhaustion, there was a buzz of energy around him.
A charge of restlessness and something more she didn’t know how to place.
His fingers flexed where they gripped the counter, and he kept pushing his other hand through his tangled hair.
Hair that looked like he’d been doing that same action all night.
He’d lost his shoes somewhere else, his bare feet crossed at the ankles.
“You should simply move your rooms to wherever you disappear to,” she said. “Seems as though it would be more convenient.”
Those words pulled him from whatever trance he was in, but instead of the arrogant retort she’d come to expect, he said, “I’ve thought about it, but it would raise too many questions. It wouldn’t matter anyway. The ghosts of our past haunt us no matter where we are.”
She lifted her head because there was a tortured agony she recognized in his tone. Never once in all of this had she expected the Avonleyan King to be a mirror of her own tortured soul, but that was what this was. It was the first time she’d ever felt like he was showing her something real.
And she didn’t know what to do with that in the slightest. It made things entirely too complicated.
That charged energy in the room seemed to intensify, and she watched as Cethin pushed off the sink, padding forward as though unbidden.
He stopped directly beside the tub, staring down at her with a look she so desperately wanted to understand.
No one had ever looked at her like that before, and how was she supposed to build defenses against something she couldn’t understand?
She’d had to tip her head back to hold his stare, and she felt a few strands of hair slip free with the new angle, fluttering against her cheek. She saw one of his hands flex in her periphery, her body tensing at the movement. Of course he noticed.
His lips thinned, and he rubbed his fingertips together before he slowly lowered to a crouch before her. “Kailia…” He trailed off, a hand raking through his hair yet again. “Can I touch you? Just your arm,” he added quickly.
“Why?” she asked in genuine curiosity.
“Because… I just—” Silver eyes searched hers, and they weren’t as bright as normal. As if his dark magic was hiding him as much as he hid away in the night. “I can’t help but wonder if you’d keep the ghosts away in the same way you keep the spirit creatures at bay.”
“Are you asking me to protect you yet again, king?”
“Desperately, wife.”
She felt his magic brush along her arm before his hand followed.
He turned her arm over, as if looking for something, before gently returning it to its original position and cupping her elbow.
His thumb swiped along her skin in small circles, over and over.
His shoulders sagged, a low sound rumbling from his chest and his thumb never ceasing its movement.
True to his word, his hand never moved, only touching her arm.
When she shifted to free her other arm, his thumb stilled.
His lips parted to say something, but he quickly swallowed the words when he saw her reaching for him.
He stayed so still, as still as he had in her dream.
Her fingertips slid along his jaw, the stubble as scratchy and coarse as it had been then too.
So slowly, she pressed her palm to his cheek, and his eyes fell closed as he leaned into the touch, nuzzling against her hand.
He shifted from a crouch to his knees, his thumb resuming the circles along her flesh, while his other hand curled over the lip of the tub.
What an odd feeling to have a king on his knees before her.
Because while she avoided physical touch, he clearly craved it. Just another thing working against her in all of this.
Apparently touch was his weakness too.