Total pages in book: 210
Estimated words: 200096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1000(@200wpm)___ 800(@250wpm)___ 667(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 200096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1000(@200wpm)___ 800(@250wpm)___ 667(@300wpm)
If I didn’t know better, I would think the Ybarisan prince might care for me. What a wild turn of events that would be. Oh, how my brothers would disapprove. But I would quickly remind them that one of them gave up his kingdom for Tyree’s co-conspirator, and the other was courting a servant.
Not that I will get to feel my twin’s disappointment. Atticus is very likely dead, a thought that stirs my melancholy. Perhaps I should have made more of an effort with him.
The only warning I get is a clicking sound before the door suddenly swings open.
I sit up with a start, ready to lunge for my dagger in case of an attack.
In strolls Tyree, his cloak’s hood pushed back.
My shoulders sink with relief. Quickly following it is annoyance. “How did you get in? I locked that from the inside.”
He pushes the door shut and latches it. “Have you forgotten what I’m capable of?”
Right. The metal would be easy enough for him to manipulate with his affinity. “No, I am well aware.”
He flaunts that sexy, crooked smile that makes my heart skip a beat now.
“What are you hiding behind your back?” His left arm hasn’t appeared since he stepped in.
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” His eyes touch my bare shoulders, and I see the lust spark in them.
“Fine, don’t tell me.” I make a point of turning around and settling back as if having Tyree in our chamber while I’m bathing has no effect on me. “I am tired of games.”
“You are tired of games.” His deep chuckle vibrates in my chest, but I ignore it and pretend that the way the floor creaks as he approaches doesn’t affect me at all. Meanwhile, my pulse races as he moves in behind me where he surely has a prime view of my body in the tub under the waning sunlight. “You’ve unraveled your braids.”
“Yes, I needed to wash my hair. There was honey in it. Find anything interesting at the market?”
“A few things.”
I keep my eyes shut and my head resting against the tub’s back as I listen to him shuck his cloak and weapons, and kick off his boots.
A delicious, smoky scent wafts to my nose, and I inhale. “What is that?”
“Provisions for the road.” He waves the wrapped meat in the air before setting it on a nearby table.
“But you do not eat meat.”
“No, but I know how carnivorous you are. I found these.” He holds out a pouch for me to try.
I gingerly stick my hand in and pull out an elderberry.
“I also have bread and cheese, and a carafe of wine.” He sets them on the table as he lists them. There’s some more rustling behind me and then a bouquet suddenly appears in front of my face.
“You brought me flowers?”
He drops them into a nearby water pitcher. “The color reminded me of your eyes.”
His words steal my breath. I swallow, unsure how to respond. Plenty of hopeful suitors have tried impressing me with blooms—too many to count. But for my would-be murderer and kidnapper to do so … “What did you buy for yourself?”
“A leather satchel to carry everything. Are you finished with your bath?”
“Almost. Why?”
He sticks his hand in to test the temperature and I realize that he’s removed his tunic. “Because I need one.”
I reach out to draw a fingertip across the multitude of white scars along his forearm, and wince at all the days I meandered around the castle while he sat in a cell, alone and injured. Not that he didn’t deserve it, or that my brothers had any other choice. But now that I’ve seen an entirely different side of Tyree, guilt gnaws at me for any part I may have played in it—even as an accessory by royal association. “You wish to bathe in my tepid, dirty water?”
“I bathed in a horse trough last night, Annika. I would call this a vast improvement.” He smiles down at me, his gaze dropping to gather a leisurely look at my nakedness before he pulls away.
“There are servants to refill it.”
“Yes, young girls, lugging up pails of hot water. I will not make them suffer through that twice in one day.”
“How chivalrous of you.” I climb out and reach for my towel to dry myself off, hyperaware of his eyes on me.
“Don’t worry, I make up for it in other ways.” With a grin, he drops his breeches.
My body thrums with anticipation as I study his honed, perfect form and the impressive length hanging between muscular thighs that gave me so much pleasure last night.
He seems unbothered by my gawking as he sinks into the bath, easing back with a groan, his legs bent to fit. The burns he mentioned before are visible—tiny pink marks peppered over his skin, buried within the dark hair. Zander really should have had Wendeline heal those. Maybe a caster still could.