Page 25

I t’s midday by the time I reach my room. Despite sleeping on the carriage ride back, exhaustion clings to me. I’m filthy, and every step sends sharp aches through my legs and feet.

The tub is already half-full when I approach. I wait until Sasha puts the healing salts away and closes the door before stepping in.

I always hesitate in the bath, needing a moment to calm my nerves. My gaze sweeps the washroom, making sure I’m truly alone. Only when I feel safe do I lean back against the tub.

The steamy water works its way into my tired muscles, easing the tension in my legs and feet. I scrub every inch of my skin, washing away the dirt, debris, and the haunting images of the fallen contestants. For a brief moment, thoughts of Lukene creep in.

Lukene is unlike anyone I’ve ever known. He’s a force—intimidating, dark, commanding fear and respect with nothing more than a glance. And yet, beneath that formidable exterior, there’s something that draws me in—a mystery I can’t resist unraveling.

Once I finish washing, I wrap a cloth around me and step out of the bath chamber. My stomach growls, but the pull of sleep is stronger. Food can wait.

In my bedchamber, the fire burns low, casting long shadows across the room. A chill settles in, creeping through the dim space. I’m too tired to stoke the flames and decide to let them die.

After slipping on a black nightgown, I climb into bed. The cold air brushes against my skin, making me shiver. I pull the blanket tight under my chin, welcoming the warmth.

As sleep pulls me under, a dreadful realization grips me—there’s only one trial left. Only one winner. What will happen if I lose and Elm wins? Or worse, if he loses and I win?

I don’t want to be separated from Elm.

Suddenly, the weight of everything crashes over me, making my chest ache with each breath. I squeeze my eyes shut, desperate for sleep, but warm tears betray me, slipping down my cheeks and stinging my skin. I hate feeling weak, but I allow myself this moment.

I cry for losing Larah. I cry for losing my parents. I cry for being forced to marry a man who never cared for me at all. I cry for what I went through to get into the Hollows and what I endured there. I cry for fear of losing Elm. I cry for what life could have been but never was. And finally, I just cry, to get it all out, not knowing what tomorrow will bring.

When the tears stop, exhaustion slams into me with brutal force. My throat burns, raw like an ember lodged within it. I shut my aching eyes and fall into a deep, grief-laden sleep, overwhelmed from feeling everything I have locked away for so long. The prisoner has finally broken.

A soft knock at the door pulls me from sleep. The dim light of the setting sun filters through the window, casting a pale glow across the room. I sit up, shivering now that the fire has died out.

“Come in, Sasha.”

The door creaks open, and instead of Sasha, Prince Lukene steps inside, shutting the door behind him. A tray rests in his hands. His bright green eyes flicker over me, lingering on the skin visible through my thin nightgown. Heat crawls up my neck as I pull the blanket tighter around my chest and wrap another around my shoulders.

He clears his throat and approaches, placing the tray on the bedside table to my left. Dark shadows smudge beneath his eyes, and stubble darkens his sharp jaw. His clothes are wrinkled and dirty, as if sleep has eluded him for days.

“Prince Lukene,” I murmur, dipping my head in acknowledgment.

“Prisoner.” He drags a chair next to the bed, sitting slightly off to my right. My heart kicks up a beat, confusion swirling in my chest. What could he possibly need to come to my bedchamber for?

“You could have sent Sasha to bring the tray,” I say quietly.

“I am sure I could have,” he replies, his lips curving in a half-smile as he nudges the tray closer to me. His gaze sharpens, and he frowns slightly. “Why are your eyes so red and puffy?”

Well, I only cried my eyes out for the first hour, I think, but I won’t dare to speak about my moment of vulnerability. “I am unsure. Maybe it’s from the trials.”

I keep my gaze down, avoiding his. Picking up the fork, I push the food around on the tray—root vegetables, fresh fruit, pork, bread, and a bowl of broth. Even though hunger gnawed at me earlier, the urge to eat has vanished now that I’ve allowed myself to cry.

A draft creeps through the room, making me shiver. I clutch the blanket tighter around me, fully aware of Lukene’s gaze lingering on me. Every place his eyes seem to land burns against my skin as if it’s on fire.

Without a word, he stands and moves to the fireplace. I watch him stoke the fire, coaxing it back to life until it roars, sending delicious waves of warmth through the room. I can’t help but admire the way his muscles strain with movement through his shirt. He truly is handsome, no matter how much I try to ignore it.

Lukene turns, taking his seat again. He leans back in the chair, his head resting against the edge.

“Eat, Reign,” he says dryly.

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 asking you now.”

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.

“It will all work out. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it. And don’t let those lavender eyes shed any more tears.” He lets his thumb travel up, gliding it across my bottom lip ever so lightly

He leans in further, so close we share the same breath. He looks at my lips for a long moment, like he is memorizing their very shape before returning his gaze to my eyes. His bright green eyes suck me in, like they always do, holding me captive in their smoldering gaze. My chest is moving rapidly in uneven pants, anticipating what is to come. His movements reflect mine, like we’re caught in the same current.

The heat from the fire presses down on me, suffocating. I can’t stop myself from licking the dryness off my lips. His eyes follow the motion of my tongue, and the look he gives me makes my stomach flutter. Lukene is a paradox. I feel safe, but also endangered in his presence, and I can’t get enough of either.

Then, without warning, his brows draw together. He pulls away sharply, slamming himself back into the chair. His hands and shadow retreat, leaving my skin cold where his touch had just been. He grips the armrests so tightly his knuckles turn white, his gaze locked on the fire.

I don’t know what is going on with him, or me, or between us both. Confusion sets in about what just happened—and why. I am suddenly irritated with his presence. “Prince Lukene why are you here?” I rub the back of my neck uncomfortably.

He continues to watch the flames dance across the log in the fireplace before slowly turning his head to look at me. “Why don’t you eat pork? I always see you push it away.”

His observation catches me off guard, and I narrow my eyes. It’s such an odd thing for him to notice.

“The reason isn’t important,” I reply with a scoff.

“Appease me, Prisoner.”

Glaring at him, I pull my now less-sore, legs onto the bed and cross my arms over my chest. “On my wedding night, my husband made me slaughter a pig to make him a meal. I had never done it before, and I wasn’t prepared for the copious amounts of blood that spilled out of it. It was gross and vile. Ever since then, I haven’t been able to eat it.”

The atmosphere shifts instantly. His entire demeanor changes as his eyes narrow. “So, you are married then?” He tilts his head, squinting slightly, his expression hard and curious. “You have a husband?”

I shake my head, unwilling to divulge every detail about my life. Why would it matter to him anyway? “Why are you here, Prince?”

He rests his hand under his chin while he assesses me, like he is looking for answers to questions he didn’t ask—as if by looking at me he could know the truths about me. He rubs his chin aggressively over his stubble, while so many things run through his soulless green eyes.

“I made a bet,” he finally says. “I placed a handsome wager on you to be the one to win the trials. Therefore, I came to make sure you eat up and rest. We train tomorrow.” He stands and heads toward the door. Before leaving, he pauses, glancing back at me. “Where is your husband now, Prisoner?” His voice is flat, edged with annoyance.

I sigh loudly, knowing he won’t let it go without an answer. “His bed is made of dirt. He’s either with the Mother or in the hells.”

Lukene’s mouth parts slightly, a flicker of regret crossing his face. He gives a brief nod and slips out of the room without another word.

* * *

The next morning, I take breakfast in my room, wanting to avoid the prince until I have to train with him. To my surprise, Lilyana arrives, bringing breakfast with her when I don’t show up in the dining room.

We spend the morning eating leisurely, talking about everything and nothing. I love that Lilyana shares the same guilty pleasure romance books that Sasha and I adore. Most of breakfast passes in laughter, discussing our love for plants and various other things.

After she leaves, I get dressed and head down the corridors toward the training yard. As I near the exit, two guards approach. I’ve only ever seen them near Vanna, and even before they reach me, my gut twists in warning—something feels off. Something is wrong.

“Prisoner,” one of the guards says, stopping in front of me.

My stomach churns. “Yes?”

“And where are you off to?” The other guard says, tucking a piece of my hair behind my ear. Recoiling from his touch, my palms become slick.

“I am running late to meet the prince in the training yard.” I step back, trying to put distance between us.

One of them grabs my arm, his grip iron-tight. “Well, let’s have a little fun before you go. You’re already late.”

“Yeah,” the other guard sneers. “What’s another ten minutes?” They both laugh.

I yank at my arm, but the guard’s hold doesn’t budge. “Let go of me!”

“Oh, she’s a fighter,” one of them mocks, their laughter booming down the corridor.

They shove me against the wall. Sweat breaks out on my hairline, while my heart beats at a rapid pace—a pace I should move my legs to get out of here before something happens. If I kill them or fight back, will I be sent back to the Hollows? Will I be killed?

“Come on prisoner. This will be the best you ever had.” He leans in to kiss my cheek, and I spit in his face.

He wipes the spit from his cheek slowly, staring at it on his hand. Without warning, his hand swings back and slams across my face, sending me to the ground.

“Like I’d actually sleep with a Drifter,” he sneers, then walks away laughing with the other guard.

I sit on the floor for a second, catching my breath. Pain radiates across my cheek where his hand landed. I can already feel that my face is going to be bruised. With shaky hands, I remove my braid to try and conceal the mark that I know must be prominent.

Once I calm myself, I stand and head toward the training yard.

Immediately, I make my way to Elm, who’s practicing his wind magic, sending bursts of air toward a line of targets. My legs are shaky, but I keep my head low, letting my hair curtain my face.

“Where have you bee—” Elm’s voice cuts off with a gasp as his hand reaches for my chin. I back away quickly.

“What the hells happened, Reign?”

“Leave it alone, Elm—please. Just train. From the look of it you still need the practice.” My voice comes out sharper than I intended, but I can’t bear the thought of him drawing attention to my face.

“Reign, this isn’t a joke. Who did this?” He steps closer.

I back away again, raising my hand. A ball of fire ignites in my palm, flickering between us.

“Oh shit…” Elm mutters under his breath, glancing over my shoulder. “He’s coming.”

I don’t need to ask who it is. I could feel his eyes on me before Elm even said anything. That familiar pull in my stomach tightens, and I channel the swirling emotions into my hand, making the ball of fire burn hotter, brighter, expanding with each breath.

I hear his heavy footsteps behind me, but I don’t turn.

“So nice of you to join us, Prisoner.”

“Yeah, well, my beauty sleep was interrupted last night, so I thought I’d make up for it this morning.”

“Is that so?” His footsteps crunch through fallen leaves as he steps beside me. I keep my head down and will the blazing ball of fire to split in two.

“If sleep makes you any more beautiful, I might have to forbid it, because my eyes are already hopelessly captivated by you.”

I can hear the smile in his voice. His flirtatious comment lingers in the air, making my chest tighten. My mind scrambles for a witty response, but all I can manage is a nervous laugh. My fingers fidget causing my flame to flicker. Feeling the intensity of his gaze makes me feel both exhilarated and exposed. I shift my weight from one foot to the other.

Lukene’s hand reaches over and grabs my chin firmly, tugging it toward him. My flame immediately dies out, anticipating his reaction. Once his eyes gaze upon my face they change from flirty to fury as he notices my cheek.

“Reign—” He tilts my head to the side, inspecting the bruise. “What the fuck happened to your face?”

I yank my head free. “It’s nothing. Leave it, Prince.”

Lukene looks at Elm, who holds his hands up with wide eyes and shrugs. “I have no clue what happened. She wouldn’t tell me either.”

“Was it a contestant?” He presses.

“No. Just leave it alone.”

“A guard?” His voice lowers, and I stiffen. The slightest movement gives me away. His calculating eyes narrow, piecing it together.

“Double burning hells. Both of you are acting like territorial pricks. It is not a big deal. Now, leave it the hells alone.” I thrust my palm outward, summoning a flame, but Lukene grabs my hand. The fire sears his skin, yet he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t pull away, forcing me to pull the power back into myself.

“Not a big deal?” He lets out a sharp laugh, more scoff than humor. “Let me show you what territorial looks like, Reckless.”

He drops my hand and strides away, fury radiating off him.