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I tried to cover myself, but it was obvious that my pubic hair was not light blonde and was a much darker blonde than theirs. Neither had I even begun to grow anything that would resemble fuller breasts, like them. Turns out I never really would.

“It’s just as dirty as the rest of you!”

“You’re in a bath, but you’re still dirty.”

“Do you rub dirt all over yourself, or do you never actually wash?”

Their awful taunting was relentless, and my anger festered. Jaena forbade me from fighting anyone outside of the training grounds. Usually, you don’t even see the training grounds until you move to secondary. However, Jaena had me training separately for a few revs by then.

I could have beaten the snot out of all three girls easily, but I still wanted to impress Jaena. So, I let them get away with it. For revolutions, they taunted me, and for revolutions, I allowed it. No wonder Petia isn’t scared of me, even knowing I’m the Silent Assassin.

It wasn’t only my pubic hair that was darker. My blonde hair is much darker at the roots, which fed their unwashed narrative. Their skin is typical Mievaborn porcelain, whereas I am a shade darker. I am still pale, just not as pale as them. My skin looks slightly darker on some of my joints, like my knees and elbows, further proof that I was dirty.

I scrub myself raw before I get out of the bath.

Tovi should be back soon. I think it’s been as long as I usually take. My rage has been simmering and bubbling low in my belly the entire time she’s been gone. What if the king made her detour? What if the prince still hasn’t found the others? What if they hated each other and killed one another? What if?—

The telltale sounds of an escort pop my bubble of panic. Tovi makes a grand entrance, spinning her cloak off with a flourish, throwing it onto the nearby side table, and brandishing her wrists at me dramatically. And now I understand the shit-eating grin across her face: she has two blades strapped to her.

“How in the Divine?”

“He found them, Mika! Or they found him and his weird whispering to himself. Bitty gave over their two wrist blades so we could have something on us.”

My mouth gapes open, and tears prickle my eyes as she undoes one of the blades and gives it to me.

“They’re okay?”

“Apparently. Annoyed that we ruined their grand plan to break you out of the dungeon, but glad you’re okay. Surprised and thrown a little into disbelief that I’m here or…that you have forgiven me. Eryn asked about how much exploring we’ve done, and—fuck—I forgot to ask for paper and charcoal to make a map. I told him we hadn’t explored much more than the entrance so far.”

I raise an eyebrow at her, not missing the irony that she couldn’t believe how I forgot to ask Eryn about the king’s eyes. “Did he tell them about the king?”

She rolls her eyes at my raised eyebrow and tone. “Yes. Confirmed they see what I see, what we all see, except the violet eyes. They’re going to do some subtle questioning, planting seeds that he started acting weird a decade past, and see what grows.”

I blow out a breath. This is all so much. We need to explore, but I’m loath to do so without some way to know where I’m going. “The knives!” I exclaim. “I can use the knives to mark my passage, so I don’t get lost. When is Eryn meeting them again?”

“In a couple of days, let them rustle some shit up first. And yes, good idea. Want to get in there now?”

Yes. Yes, I do. I get changed into the silky clothes I wore the other night that I’ve already ruined. Again, Tovi hands me a lit lantern when I climb in, and off I go.

I spend about two hours in there and find four other hatches, each one silent, and I don’t try to open them. I wish they were mapped, but at least I know how to get back out and how many are around. It’s hot in here and I have a slamming headache. Calling it quits for the night, I vow to do more tomorrow.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

The rage inside is building, getting battle ready for a fight. I’m not supposed to be meeting Eryn yet, and I fear something is wrong for him to ask for me days early. Impatient with the guard taking my cloak, I snap at him to hurry and not make his prince wait. I gently run to the bedroom, about to call his name and ask if he’s okay.

Riley.

“Riley.”

Riley.

Standing next to Eryn in the middle of the room, is Riley, with an unreadable expression, looking me over.

Eryn looks from me to Riley and back to me with a stupid grin on his face. He all but skips toward me and leans in for a quick and unreciprocated hug, whispering conspiratorially. “Well, I bet he doesn’t think you look gross.” And then the prince saunters past me to his sitting room door. “I’ll just be in here, pretending I don’t exist for a bit.” He closes the door with a self-satisfied chuckle.

Riley looks tired. His hair is a little longer, hitting his shoulders and tucked behind his ears, but he’s freshly shaven. He’s wearing his light tan colored linen shirt with most of the buttons undone and sleeves rolled up, exposing the corded muscles of his forearms. His leather weapons harness sits empty. His trousers are black, fitting snugly everywhere and I’m certain they’re new.

He’s still staring, taking in every inch of me, exactly as I am doing to him. I am wearing the beige lace underwear and the champagne dress, so no doubt he can see absolutely everything they don’t cover. The urge to hide myself barely registers.