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Adjusting my position, I sit up straighter, letting my legs dangle off the side of the bed. A groan slips from me as the soreness in my muscles flares.

“What’s wrong?”

I scrunch my face. “Nothing.” I poke at the food again, picking up a roasted carrot and chewing it slowly. When I swallow, it feels like a heavy stone drops into my uneasy stomach.

“Prisoner? Don’t lie to me. What hurts? You grunted as you moved, so I know something is bothering you.”

I scoff, placing my fork down to look at him. Why does he think he gets to know everything about me but never tells me anything about himself? “Where have you been? You look like shit.”

His smirk deepens into that infuriatingly perfect grin. “Now I know you’re lying. I can tell what sinful thoughts run through your head when you look at me.”

“Oh yes, your Highness. The sinful thoughts of stabbing you…” The truth burns on the edge of my tongue—I do have sinful thoughts about him, just not the stabbing kind.

His grin widens, smug and teasing. “Answer my questions, Reckless.”

I grunt in annoyance. “My feet and legs are just sore from walking in the sand. I am fine.”

Lukene holds my gaze as he slips a hand beneath the blanket, grasping my foot and placing it in his lap. I try to pull it back, but his grip is firm, and I’m too tired, too sore to resist. His thumb presses into the arch of my foot, kneading gently before sliding under my toes with just the right amount of pressure.

It feels so good I nearly let out a moan. No one has ever touched me this tenderly.

Suddenly, something brushes my other foot, and I yelp, jerking instinctively, but I realize it’s one of his shadowy tendrils. It coils around my foot, massaging away the soreness, slowly working its way up. Lukene laughs—a deep, velvety sound that ripples through the air with dark, intimate allure. The sound alone sends a shiver through me.

“You don’t have to do that. Another hot soak, and I’ll be fine.”

He doesn’t respond.

“Why are you here, Prince?”

He continues to rub my feet, working his hands slightly higher, on my calves now. Butterflies start to flutter in my stomach with each grip of my leg.

He sighs. “I came to see how the trials went. Eat while you tell me. That is an order, not a request.”

I roll my eyes at his command but dip a piece of the bread into the broth before popping it into my mouth.

“I reported everything to Captain James. I am sure he can fill you in.” He intently watches my movements, eyes lingering on my lips. The darkness around him seems to pulse, drawing me deeper into his magnetic green eyes.

“I already spoke to him.” His voice is calm, almost lazy. “I am askingyounow.”

He moves his hand and shadow higher, now on my lower thigh, careful not to pull the blanket higher. My heart races, and my breath catches in my throat. Am I even breathing? Heat begins to flood my lower stomach.

The side of his mouth goes up in a seductive smirk, as if he can tell the effect his touch has on me. He continues to knead my muscles, grasping me in his strong calloused hands.

“We got the book as requested. There are four of us left. That is all there is to tell.”

He pauses, studying me as if searching for the truth in my words.

“Then why do you seem so upset? Your eyes are puffy from crying. What is wrong?”

He resumes massaging me, moving higher as his body edges closer. His fingers press into my mid-thighs, seeking out a new ache. I suppress a moan at the feel of his grip.

I never thought I’d enjoy a man’s touch again—not after everything I’ve endured. But Lukene’s touch feels different. It feels safe. It feels right. Even though I hate him, even though he’s the last person I should let in, I don’t pull away.

My eyes flutter closed for a moment, and heat creeps up my face. I know my cheeks must be painted red.

I try to think about anything but where his hands are. I push the pork to the side and eat a few pieces of fruit. “I am just worried about what will happen with this next trial. If Elm or I win, we will be separated. If one of us dies, we will also be apart. He is all I have left on this continent.”

Setting the fork down, I shove the bedside table away. Lukene’s hand and shadow still. He leans closer, brushing knuckles down my cheek with his free hand before gripping my chin. I can smell the faint scent of alcohol lingering on this breath.