Page 119 of Storm of Shadows

“Are protectors meant to run their thralls baths?” It doesn’t exactly sound like how things are meant to work. “As your little slave, aren’t I meant to be the one running baths?” I say, sarcastically.

Beaufort walks into the steamy bathroom and drops me down hard on my feet.

“I’ve told you before, the arrangement is reciprocal. You look after us and we look after you.” He jerks his head towards the bath. “Get in.”

“Erm, no.”

Dray leans in the doorway, one foot crossed over the other ankle, gaze flicking eagerly between me and Beaufort.

“Don’t argue with me, little thrall. You said it would make you feel better. We both saw how much pain you were in. Get in the damn bath.”

“Not with the two of you standing there watching. Some privacy please.”

“You shy?” Dray chuckles.

“It has nothing to do with being shy and a lot to do with privacy and respect,” I say through gritted teeth as another cramp sears through my stomach. I really, really want to climb into that bath and sink into oblivion. I just don’t want to do it with them watching.

“You’re clearly exhausted,” Beaufort says, “you fell asleep in my arms almost immediately. I’m not having you fall asleep in the bath and drowning.”

“I won’t.”

“You’re in obvious pain, little thrall, just get in the bath.” Dray chuckles. I lift my chin stubbornly and shake my head, even though the cramps hurt like hell. “I’ll tell you what, then. We’ll turn around.” He grabs Beaufort’s arm and, after some tussling, forces him to turn his back on me, doing the same himself. “There you are. We promise not to peek.”

I consider them. I don’t really trust them not to peek. I also really want to climb into that bath. It’s been so long since I’ve had one, I can’t even remember what it was like. But it smells divine and looks like heaven.

“Okay,” I say, “but if you–”

“We won’t,” Dray promises.

Hunched over to protect my modesty as best I can, I slip off my clothes quickly and climb into the bath, sighing as I slip under the water. My eyes drift closed as the warmth of the water and salts soothe away the cramps and I tip back my head and lean it against the edge of the bath, my body completely submerged under the water.

“Wanna tell us about those scars, little thrall?” Dray growls from the other side of the bathroom.

My eyelids fly open. Both men are glaring at me, thunder clouding their expressions. It’s pretty terrifying and I don’t even know what I did wrong.

“You promised not to peek,” I say, sinking deeper into the water.

“Was it the shithead from Slate Quarter?” Beaufort asks, his tone deadly. “The same one who gave you the black eye?”

“It’s no one you know,” I say, turning my head and peering down into the water; my body is obscured under the water, water that’s slowly turning crimson with my blood.

It brings back flashes of memories, of running water turning red with my blood as I washed myself up as best I could in the freezing cold river.

Under the water, I can’t see the disfigurements she left on my stomach, although I know the ones on my back are far far worse.

“How did it happen?” Beaufort asks.

I swim my hands through the water. I feel light-headed, like I could float away, disassociate from the here and now and never have to answer these questions.

But then he’s beside me, his fingers cupping my chin again, once more turning my face to meet his. “Tell me how they did it and who it was and I will kill them.”

“You’re not going to kill anyone,” I snort.

“I am,” he growls.

“It’s in the past. It’s over. I’m never going back there.” Even if they send me back to Slate Quarter, I won’t be going home. I’m not a child anymore. I’m free now and I have no intention of returning.

“No, you’re not,” Beaufort says, meeting my gaze with his silver one. “Because you’re ours now.”