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She drew her knees up, her back pressing firmly against the wall behind her. If needed she could use her legs better like this to kick him. She would not go down without a fight.

Not anymore.

“Is anything ever easy with you?” Eldrion asked as he looked at her. “Why must you make all things so bloody difficult?”

“I am making things difficult? You people have made my life a living hell since you decided to host me. Why am I having breakfast with the queen? Why now? I want to know!”

His gaze softened just a touch. “I understand your anger. I do. And I understand you do not trust any of us right now.”

She scoffed.

“But, just this once, can you please not fight? Not everything here is a battle, though I realize our actions may not have shown you that. Talking with the queen will be in your favor. She might have more to tell you than you expect. Just give it a chance . . . please.”

“Like what? More lies?”

“No, Anthea. Queen Fyralin—she will help you understand your part in this world?—”

“My part . . . You mean my place. Haven’t you all been lecturing me about it since I got here?”

Eldrion closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then?—

“I have my orders—I will make you take that bath, and I will take you to the queen.” He took a step closer. Anthea could see something in the elf’s gaze that seemed like regret, but his stance was stiff, and she knew with every fiber of her being he would force her, drag her, carry her on his back again, if needed. She had to pick her battles. Pick the ones she could actually win, pick the ones worth winning?—

“Okay then,” she grumbled, rising from the bed. “Show the way.” She didn’t bother to smooth out the rumpled fabric of her dirty dress.

“You won’t be returning to this room afterward.”

A wave of unease rolled over her. Why wouldn’t she be returning to this room? Was he planning to take her back to the cell?

Eldrion, as if sensing her distress, added, “You are just getting a bigger room. Consider it a sign of truce.”

“Why didn’t you start with that piece of information?”

“Well, you know now.”

His blasé response sparked a flare of anger in her chest, her fingers itching to fling something at his face. Unfortunately, there was nothing within her reach, and she was left with the unsatisfying option of doing nothing.

“You can have your bath there.” Eldrion gestured at a smaller side chamber, where an array of bathing oils and soaps were stored, neatly arranged on a stone ledge. A stack of fluffy, light gray plush towels sat nearby, folded and ready for use. The thermal pools were hidden deep within the heart of the mountain and accessible through a winding tunnel connected to the castle. The rocky caves were carved and molded into a luxurious haven for relaxation. Hot steam rose from the pools, condensing on the walls and ceiling in glistening droplets, the air thick with the scent of minerals and warmth.

She glanced back at the standing elf. “I hope you’re not planning to stay for the show.”

“It wouldn’t be much of a show.” His gaze briefly flickered over her.

A pang of hurt pricked at her self-esteem, his offhand comment hitting harder than she would have liked to admit. She didn’t care about the opinions of these elves, especially Eldrion’s. And yet, when such a handsome being made a negative remark about her appearance, it stung. Anthea kept her back to him, so he wouldn’t notice how his words affected her.

Eldrion quickly added, “You need not worry. I will respect your privacy, but I’ll be close by, just in case you decide to do anything reckless.” His tone was softer now, as if regretting his previous comment, but the underlying message was clear—he was still in control.

Anthea waited until he left.

Then she undressed. As she reached to unbind the bandages around her torso, her movements grew sluggish. Her fingers, already stiff from her injuries, struggled to find purchase on the tightly wound linen. A spike of pain shot through her. She glanced at the pool longingly—her hair, especially, was in desperate need of a wash, having accumulated grime and dust over the time she’d been held captive here. Seeing the steam rising from the pool, smelling the soothing scents coming from the soaps. She hadn’t realized how much she wanted a bath. Glancing to where the warrior had gone to, she made up her mind?—

Anthea stepped into the warm water. The bandages would get wet, and it would be hard to manage her hair with only one hand, but she would give it her best.

Once finished, she got out. The linen strips were soaked, and her hand hurt, but overall, she thought she did a good job. Getting the dress back on was a challenge she hadn’t anticipated. It snagged against the wet bandages, and as she struggled to get it over her head, she tripped, landing on the stone floor with a shriek.

Footfalls, soft against the stone floor, approached quickly.

Eldrion paused, clenching his teeth, as he saw her. Anthea threw him a glare, cheeks red. He scanned her bandaged form on the ground, lingering on the splinted hand. There was a heavy silence as his lips thinned into a frown.