Page 50

Bria

T he warm water soothes my aching body once I let myself relax in the small tub.

I make sure to keep my fractured wrist propped on the edge.

It hangs lifeless and I look away, unable to stand the sight of my shattered bones, even when wrapped and shielded from view.

I know how broken it is and every time I look at it, I can hear my bones crunching under that boot.

Quinn’s deep voice travels through the closed door.

Knowing it isn’t the healer yet, I decide to stay and soak away as much of the pain as I can.

I chance one look at the gaping wound in my shoulder before deciding it isn’t worth the nausea it causes.

The water around me is swirling with pink and red tendrils from the seeping blood.

It stings, but it’s nothing compared to my wrist and fingers.

My concern over whether the bones can be set and healed is increasing by the minute.

If there’s no healing it, I’ll be going into the capital—into the castle—with only magic to protect me. Magic I have to hide. If my wrist and hand are beyond repair... I push away the thought, shoving it deep down inside, not willing to even think of failing my sister.

Closing my eyes, I sink deeper, my knees still exposed to the air.

I was an idiot for leaving that way, I acted like a child, and now I can only wish I would have paused for just a second to think about what I was doing instead of reacting so brashly in the moment.

I could have asked Silas to come with me.

Then maybe the attack would not have ended the way it did.

Maybe I would have more energy to save Nimai.

Silas. Shit . I hadn’t even thought about him until now. Is he going to come after me? There’s no way he didn’t feel something when I had that vision and even more so when I was attacked.

Evander comes back into the room quietly, interrupting my thoughts and pulling me back from the spiral of shame I’m losing myself to. There is no sense in dwelling on it. We’re here now, and I need to deal with it. He kneels beside the bathtub, his hand caressing my hair, still matted with blood.

“The water is getting cold and you need to eat,” he says, taking in the fact that I’ve been sitting here, wallowing in my own idiocy and filth, and have yet to actually bathe.

I purse my lips and grab for the wash rag, grimacing when a stabbing sensation ricochets through my shoulder. Evander watches me closely and takes the rag from my hand, lathering it in soap. He stays kneeling beside the tub, his molten eyes watching me.

“Can you lean forward?” he asks, his voice low and husky.

My body tenses when it occurs to me that he means to wash me.

Heat floods through my body at the thought but I nod and move my torso for him.

Ev gently works the soap into my back and neck before moving to my arms and shoulders.

The wash rag is soft, his touch tender, and the smell of sage wafts up to meet me.

He squeezes the cooling water out of the rag and into my nasty hair before slowly detangling it, taking his time.

It’s relaxing, to my surprise. Evander finishes my hair, rinsing out the soap and lathers around the front of my shoulders, treading carefully around the wound so as to not cause any harm.

I notice his eyes roam across my body as he bathes me, taking in every inch of exposed skin and sending a pulsing between my legs.

The thought of what else we could be doing right now causes me to clamp my thighs together and bite down on my lip.

It’s embarrassing and a bit twisted that he’s taking care of me and all I can think about is dragging him into the bath on top of me.

He hands the rag over with a seductive grin as if he’s been reading each emotion as it plays across my face and knows exactly what I’ve been thinking.

Chivalrous of him , I think as I take the cloth and begin scrubbing the front of my body.

I’ll admit, I wanted him to continue and wash the front of me as well, but Quinn is outside of the room.

The intensity of Evander’s gaze as his eyes remain fixed on me tells me enough to guess he doesn’t care about Quinn, so I pick up my pace.

When the dirt and blood is freed from under my nails, I sit up in the tub, exposing myself to the chill of the air in the room.

But before my body has a chance to register the temperature change, Ev is there pulling my body from the bath and wrapping me in a soft towel.

I thank him quietly when he places me gently on the ground and holds the towel tight as he reaches for clean clothing.

“The innkeeper,” he responds, answering the question in my arched brows.

“Nice of her.”

“Your clothes are a mess. I think they may just burn the other tunic,” he remarks, wrinkling his nose, and I snort. It’s disgusting, covered in blood, torn from the arrow and my fight the night before.

This new tunic is black with a snug fit and the sleeves are shorter than those of the usual tunics I wear.

The temperature is much warmer here, so it makes sense.

The fabric is soft as Ev drops it over my head and it brushes against my skin.

He helps me slide my arms through the holes, which takes more effort than I’d like to admit, and tugs it down.

The pants fit nicely, a thinner pair of leggings that will be easier for me to maneuver in.

As he shimmies the leggings up my calves, I steady myself on his shoulders, fighting the urge to run my hands down his still-bare chest. He’s not wearing the symbol of the prophecy any longer and part of me longs to ask him about it. Did he take it off because of me?

Gods, what is wrong with me ? He’s helping me because I cannot do this myself. That’s all this is, and I try to focus on that, feeling slightly perturbed by the muscles that bulge in his abs as he moves to stand. How dare he look like that.

But then he leaves his hands in my waistband and meets my gaze and I can’t help myself.

I raise to the tops of my toes to graze my lips along his.

He pulls me closer, yanking me by the pants, and kisses me back, the force slamming my body flush against him as his tongue swipes across mine. I groan into him, wanting more.

Quinn slams his hand on the door forcefully. “You two realize I’m still out here, right?”

Ev pulls his head back and smirks. “How could we forget?” he drawls before planting a gentle kiss on my lips.Heat rises into my cheeks. I had, in fact, forgotten he was in the other room, completely consumed in Ev and the moment.

He slides his hands out of my waistband and holds my hand in his before turning toward the door.

I allow Ev to lead me out of the room and come face to face with Quinn, who does not look amused.

His face is set in a perturbed grimace as he watches the two of us and our interlocked fingers.

His eyes dart to Evander, and he rolls his eyes.

“Put on a gods damned shirt,” he snarls. “The healer is here.”

Evander drops my hand and goes to gather his shirt while Quinn strides to the door, opening it for the healer.

She’s an older woman, likely older than my mother.

Her long brown hair falls in cinnamon waves around her shoulders and her eyes are a shade of rich brown sparkling with gold.

They remind me slightly of Evander’s eyes and it makes me warm to the woman instantly.

“Sit on the bed, love, and let me have a look at your wounds,”she commands quietly when she enters.

I oblige the woman and go to the edge of the bed. Quinn brings a wooden chair from the corner table over to the woman. Now that I’m awake and clean, I survey the room and the small table by Quinn. Then I see the food. I can smell the stew and my stomach grumbles audibly.

The woman chuckles at the sound and sits her plump form directly in front of me.

“It will only take a few minutes, love. Then you should get some food and rest.” She gives me something to drink and tells me to relax before pulling aside the tunic to reveal the wound in my shoulder.

The drink smells herbal and is not something I would choose to drink again if given the option, but I assume it’s a tea meant to ease the pain.

And that, I will gladly take. Any reprieve from the suffering is welcome.

I wonder if Quinn told the woman of my injuries beforehand when she hones in on the wound. She begins plucking splinters from around the hole, likely from when I snapped the arrow shaft. I wince, realizing I probably did more damage to the area with that move than I thought.

I shoot a look at Quinn in the corner of the room.

His hazel eyes are wide and set on the woman.

He meets my stare, knitting his brows together and shifting his head side to side, slightly.

So, he didn’t tell her about my shoulder.

I glance to Evander next, who leans against the dresser, his focus is set on the woman as well. Peculiar .

The healer follows up by rubbing an ointment into my skin and directly on the wound. I brace myself for the shock of it, but nothing comes.Whatever painkiller this woman gave me must be strong, some tea with nearly immediate effects.

“There,” she says, tugging the tunic back over my shoulder with care. “No infection will grow now that it’s cleaned up. Now let’s see the wrist.”

She moves to grasp my limp wrist and unwinds the binds, gingerly taking off the shredded bit of tunic.

“Where are you from?” I ask.

Whatever this woman is, she’s not just a healer and I feel an urgency to know more about her.

She’s strange—she knew of my wounds without anyone telling her.

Sure, the wrist is bound and she can see that easily, but I was dressed to cover the shoulder.

And there’s also this feeling when she touches me…

She feels warm and inviting and familiar.