Page 68 of Fall of Ruin and Wrath

“Yes, but more than that.” The feeling of being in a garden or outside ran deeper than that. “It’s more like, I don’t know, being at . . . at home.”

His head turned slightly as he looked back at me, his expression unreadable.

“What?”

He gave a shake of his head. “Nothing.” He cleared his throat. “Are you often in them late at night?”

“When I can’t sleep, yes.”

“And it’s safe for you to do that?”

“Usually,” I remarked. “Normally there aren’t Hyhborn fighting in them orni’meres.”

The steam of the water dampened my skin, causing the sheer robe to cling to my body as I reached around him, washing the other side of his chest. I kept my eyes trained on what existed above the waterline. Which was difficult enough because his skin was fascinating. Did Hyhborn not grow hair anywhere but from their head? Man, that would be so convenient.

Dragging my lip between my teeth, I placed my hand on his back. His muscles bunched under my palm. I withdrew my hands. “Did I— ”

“It’s fine.” His voice roughened. “Please continue.”

Suds ran down my arms, but I did as he requested. I focused on the feel and texture of his skin, pushing with my mind against what I was really beginning to believe was a shield. A mental one. The only similar thing I could think of was what I saw when I tried to read Claude or Hymel. Theirs was gray, though. I knew of no low-born who could do that, so this had to be some kind of Hyhborn ability, a weak version of which had passed down to thecaelestias.

Shields could be cracked, though. Broken. But one had to be strong to break a shield. Was I that strong?

I shifted my attention to the feel of his skin beneath my hands. It really did remind me of . . . of marble or granite as I washed his shoulders. This area of him couldn’t get cleaner at this point, but I was enjoying this— touching him and just feeling his skin beneath my palms without images or thoughts intruding upon mine, and that was wrong, so very wrong, because discovering his intentions was the whole point of this.

But other than the night I helped him in the shower, I . . . I couldn’t remember the last time I touched someone out of . . . of sheer enjoyment instead of doing so to gain information or because my gifts forced me to. Sometimes the intuition compelled me to reach out to touch someone— to see or hear— and I’d never been able to deny the urge.

Like a handful of years ago, when Grady and I had been in Archwood for only a few weeks, barely scraping by when a handsome young man passed by me. I’d been waiting for the baker to turn his back so I could make a grab for the bread I knew he was going to throw out, but my intuition had seized control of me. I’d followed the young man outside and grabbed his hand before I could stop myself. He’d whipped around, those handsome features contorting with anger as he demanded that I explain myself, but all I could see was him walking down the street, where a man with a dirty brown cap waited— a man who would grab for the chain of the gold time-piece hanging from the pocket of his vest. Isawthis man fighting back. I heard his screams of pain as the thief’s blade sank into his stomach. I’d told him what I’d seen in a rush and watched the anger fade into surprise when I warned him not to continue down the street.

That young man, only a few years older than me, had been Claude Huntington, the newly titled Baron of Archwood.

Pulling myself out of the past, I leaned back and let my hands rest on the rim of the tub. “Is there anything else you need my assistance with?”

“Need? No.” His head turned to the side. A lock of bronze hair fell against his cheek. “Want? Yes. But that would be selfish of me. I prefer to be greedy.”

“Are they not the same thing?”

“Not in my opinion. Greedy is not necessarily a solitary act,” he replied. “Join me while the water is still warm.”

“I’ve already bathed, Your Grace.”

“Thorne,” he corrected, and that curve of his lips deepened, sending my stomach tumbling in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. “I didn’t have bathing in mind,na’laa.”

Oh.

Oh.

Of course he wouldn’t have bathing on the mind when he believed me to be a favored courtesan. I should’ve known that too, but I had never felt more in over my head than I did at that moment, and it quickly struck me as to why.

By this point, I should already be well on my way to discovering whatever it was that Claude had requested to know, whether it be ferreting out a certain piece of information or not. I was nowhere near that point, and I couldn’t even think of the fact that Grady waited for me at a discreet distance in the hall.

Prince Thorne’s chin dipped, causing several more strands of hair to fall against his jaw. “Are you not here to service me,na’laa?”

My breath hitched. “I am.”

“Then surely you understand what I would want from you.”

“You want to . . . to feed more?” I surmised.