Page 49 of A Curse of Breath and Blood (The Mind Breaker #1)

48 AELIA

Every step Arion took sent a blinding pain up my spine, but we could not stop. I braced myself against Tharan’s hard body, seeking any sort of relief.

We rode until we reached the peak of the Ryft. Tharan turned Arion to face the city. Huge plumes of smoke rose like dragons in the morning light.

In the face of defeat, Gideon would be spurred to assert himself. He loathed appearing vulnerable, and this setback wounded his pride. There would be no refuge for me in this world now. Gideon wanted my head and my army.

Tharan looped an arm around my waist, pulling me in closer. “Are you okay? What happened back there? How long have you had the Scepter of the Dead? And why didn’t you tell me?”

I blew out my breath. “It’s a long story.” A soreness resonated in the back of my throat. “I wasn’t sure I could trust you.” I motioned to the burning castle. “You’ve seen my experience with men.”

“I’m taking you to Mineralia.”

I nodded in agreement as Tharan turned Arion toward the Stone Kingdom. “You better call the army back into the scepter, or they’ll wander around looking for a battle.”

I held the scepter as high as I could manage. “Return to me.” The scepter glowed green with magic, and the battle ceased in the city below. As soon as the scepter went silent, life returned to my bones.

I almost fell off Arion when we stopped for the night. The streets of Mineralia were quiet. Either word of the attack hadn’t reached them, or they were indifferent to it.

Tharan carried me to a room at the inn.

“Hold on a little longer. I called for a healer,” Tharan said. Urgency filled his voice.

Wrapping me in a fur-lined blanket, he went to stoke the fire.

A stark departure from the inn we had lodged in earlier, ornate gold leaf wallpaper lined the walls, and a crystal chandelier dangled from the ceiling. A room fit for a queen.

Removing the ring, Tharan returned to his god-like splendor. The scar cutting his face a welcome sight.

“Do you need anything?” he asked, taking a seat next to the bed. His red hair pulled back into a low ponytail, eyes searching for a way to ease my pain.

“Just some water,” I said, not wanting to be a burden.

Tharan handed me a glass of ice-cold water. “It has healing powers.”

“Let’s hope.” I raised the glass to my lips.

“After the healer comes, I plan to take a bath, and then, if you’d like, I could help you.”

My cheeks flushed. I wasn’t ready to show Tharan my scars.“You don’t have to.”

Tharan pushed a dark lock behind my ear. “I promise I won’t look if you’d prefer.”

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I stared into his deep green eyes. Our faces nearly touching .

A knock at the door broke our trance.

The healer, a small, halfling woman with silver hair and umber skin, entered. She wore a green utilitarian dress full of pockets and thick-rimmed glasses.

“I hear someone has a broken back,” she said, mixing something at the table in the room. “Here, drink this.”

I grimaced as she handed me a tincture with the consistency of mud.

“It’s wormwood, yarrow root, and the mud from my homelands far across the sea. It will help to mend your bones.” She guided the glass to my lips.

I choked on the mixture.

She gently patted the bottom of the cup. “Drink up. In a few days, you’ll be good as new.”

Finishing the mixture. I wiped my mouth on my sleeve. “Thank you.”

The old halfling turned to Tharan. “Take good care of her. She’s special.”

“I will,” Tharan said, escorting the old woman out.

The elixir snaked its way through my wounded body, heating as it found bones to mend. I clenched my jaw, arching my back in agony.

Tharan heaped pillows behind me, allowing me to sit up.

“How about a story?” he asked, glancing at a bookshelf lining the wall.

My heart skipped at the simple act overflowing with kindness I was unaccustomed to.“That would be lovely.”

Shirtsleeves rolled, he held his hands behind his back as she surveyed the books. A golden tattoo snaked its way up his forearm. Had I missed that before, or was the healing potion making me delirious?

Tharan grabbed a book and took a seat beside me. “This is good,” he said, flipping to the first page .

My eyelids heavy, I fought to stay awake. “Don’t you want to talk about the fact that I conjured an Army of the Dead?”

He looked at me through lowered lashes. “Yes, I have many questions, but seeing as we went through an ordeal… I’d like to enjoy this moment of peace. We can figure everything out once you’re healed.” He licked his finger, using it to separate the pages. The sight of his sensuous mouth made me swallow hard.

I let out a sigh, needing to focus on my healing. Tribulations pawed at my door like lost puppies, but they could wait a little longer.

I let the sound of Tharan’s calming voice drift me off into a deep and dreamless sleep.

A searing pain woke me a few hours later. Tharan lay asleep in the chair next to my bed. The book he had been reading lay open on his chest.

I reached for the pain tonic, but my clumsy fingers knocked over the water glass instead.

The sound of shattering glass jolted him awake.

“Are you okay?” he asked, scooping the broken shards of glass into his hand.

Heat flushed my cheeks. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I just wanted to take some pain elixir, but I couldn’t reach it.”

“It’s okay.” He poured the honey-flavored tincture into a glass and handed it to me. “You could have woken me up. I would have gotten it for you.”

“You’ve done too much,” I said, swigging back the viscous liquid.

Tharan grimaced.

“What?” I shrugged.

He pinched his nose. “You need a bath.”

“No.” I crossed my arms over my chest.

“Let me help you, you stubborn woman. It’s not like I haven’t seen a naked body before. ”

The smell of acrid feces rose from underneath the blankets, stinging my nostrils. “Fine.”

Tharan called for attendants who carried in buckets of hot water and scented the bath with rose petals.

My skin prickled with anticipation. Tharan would see my scars. I hesitated, uncertain if I was prepared to be this vulnerable with him.

“It’s ready,” Tharan said, standing in the doorway. The light from the bathing room created a halo behind him.

“Okay.” I held my arms as high as they could go.

Tharan lifted the servant’s smock over my head, exposing my naked body. Instinctively, I covered my breasts.

Tharan’s eyes did not leave mine.

“You are beautiful,” he said, slipping his arms underneath me, lifting my broken body into the air.

Hundreds of candles illuminated the bathing chamber, casting the room in a warm glow.

Sucking in a breath, I winced as Tharan lowered me into the warm water. The pain subsided to a dull ache, resembling a bruise rather than a raging river of fire. Illya’s gift, coupled with the healing elixir, accelerated my recuperation.

Tharan dipped a sponge into the water before carefully lifting my arm to scrub away the mud. Washing me like I was a prized piece of art to be restored, I quivered at his touch.

I bit the inside of my cheek, knowing he saw my shame. “Aren’t you going to ask about my scars?”

Tharan continued scrubbing. “I would ask who did this to you, but I think I know.”

I closed my eyes, remembering the tips of the whips shredding the flesh.

I lowered my head in shame. “I am damaged, Tharan. And I may never be whole again.”

Tharan lifted my chin so our eyes met.

He set the sponge down before taking my face into his hands. “You are beautiful to me, Aelia Springborn. Your scars are a testament to your strength. Wear them with pride.”

Tears welled in my eyes. “There’s something else.” With shaking fingers, I unscrewed the golden stud in my ear. A jagged scar appeared across the side of my face where a blade slit me from mouth to ear. “This is who I am.”

My heart raced. My scars laid bare.

For a moment, Tharan stared at pink flesh.

“Say something,” I said as tears trickled down my cheeks.

Tharan leaned in, kissing my scarred cheek.

My stone heart cracked.

“You are the most exquisite creature I have ever laid eyes on.” He pulled me in for a passionate kiss. Our mouths consumed one another. Any pain I felt diminished by the arousal growing inside of me.

Tharan lifted me from the bath. The cold air pebbled my nipples. Laying me down on the bed, he looked at me lovingly while his thumb rubbed my cheek. “You need to rest, Aelia.”

I didn’t want to rest. I wanted to kiss Tharan until the sun came up.

“No, it doesn’t hurt that much.” My voice cracked with desperation, but I didn’t care. I wanted him.

Tharan pushed my hair behind my ear. “There will be plenty of time for kissing when you are healed.” His lips touched my forehead. “Sleep now, my Traitorous Queen, my King Killer.”

“You forgot my new title, Queen of the Dead.” A smirk crossed my face.

Tharan shook his head. “You need your rest.” He kissed my forehead again. “I will be right here next to you.” He motioned to a little bed he had made on the floor. “I promise I won’t leave you.”

“Okay,” I said, shutting my eyes. Sleep took me before Tharan could blow out the light.