Page 31 of A Game of Veils

Aurelia

The bathwater rippling around my body has cooled, but I’m not ready to budge from the tub yet. I stretch my legs out through the lukewarm liquid and exhale more tension from my lungs.

At home, I bathed at night so the cozy warmth could relax me into sleep. Here, in the hotter Darium climate, I’ve found it’s most pleasant to take to the tub in the starkest heat of the middle of the afternoon, keeping the water milder from the start.

The sweet floral scent of the soap lingers in my nose. I scrubbed my arm and the side of my neck up to my earlobe extra thoroughly as if I could wash away the memory of Marclinus’s intrusive touch.

Will it be easier to accept his attentions when the trials are over, once we’re officially bound together? If I win—I can’t let myself get over-confident.

I’m not sure if an end to the bloodshed will make up for all the corpses left on the sidelines of our journey to the altar.

It will have to. I will make it work, whatever it takes.

Elox give me the peace to guide me through.

I tap my fingers down my front in the gesture of the divinities, displacing the water to reach my belly and then the sigil branded between my breasts. The motion brings a deeper whisper of calm.

The brush of my hand against my skin and the direction my thoughts had headed in stir up other sensations. I trace my fingertips down my side, indulging in a fleeting memory of the only touch I once welcomed.

But that desire has too much grief and guilt tangled up in it now to provoke more than a flicker of enjoyment. I swallow thickly and finally clamber out of the bath.

After Melisse insisted on setting out the soaps and oils and a whole heap of towels, I told her she could take her leisure until dinner. She looked a tad shocked, but she’ll have to get used to my peculiarities if she’s going to stay on as my maid. I’d rather bathe with full privacy. Most of the Darium-style dresses are loose enough that I can get myself into them without assistance, and all my hair requires is a comb I can run through it myself.

If Cici were still with me, maybe I’d feel differently and appreciate the time to ourselves. But no matter how cheerful and obliging Melisse acts, I can’t forget who’s paying for her service.

I dry myself and pull on the silk dressing gown my maid also left behind for me. Sweeping my damp hair back over my shoulders, I head to the main bedroom to pick from the few premade gowns Madam Clea was able to supply me with that fit my shape and coloring. She promised a set of custom dresses within the week.

I thanked her as much for believing I’ll survive here that long as for her work. Although I suppose she’ll be paid from the royal treasury of Accasy even if I’m dead.

The opening of the bathing room door lets a waft of drier air dispel the humidity from the bath. I’ve just stepped out onto the rug when an unexpected figure rises from the armchair near my bed.

I freeze, staring at Prince Raul. His massive, muscular form feels even more intimidating in the seclusion of my personal chambers.

His pale blue eyes sear into me from his tawny face, like they did on our first meeting. His mouth is curled in an expression that’s part sneer, part scowl.

My arms rise instinctively to fold over my chest, hiding the way the thin fabric clings to my breasts. A shiver runs over my skin at the realization of how little barrier there is between my skin and his penetrating gaze. I can’t help remembering how Prince Lorenzo closed in on me out of the blue yesterday, the fierceness of his finger slashing across my throat.

I don’t trust that this man won’t go even farther.

“What in the realms are you doing in here?” I snap. “How did you get in?”

Melisse locked my bedroom door when she left—I heard the bolt slide over.

Raul prowls closer, probably to take full advantage of his imposing height. He speaks in the same low, ominous tone he used to threaten me before. “I wouldn’t want you to think you’re safe anywhere in this palace, Lamb. No matter where you hide, we can get to you.”

My composure has returned underneath my burst of alarm. My voice comes out tart rather than shrill this time. “I wasn’t ‘hiding.’ I was taking a bath, as one sometimes does when they believe they’re in the privacy of their own chambers. I’ll ask again—what are you doing here? Devising new ways to murder me?”

His eyebrows arch. “Murder you? Your beloved fiancé is taking care of all the slaughter at the moment.”

“You seemed happy to hurry him along yesterday in the parlor.”

Raul hums. “You asked to be part of these bloody trials, Princess. I didn’t put you in front of his arrows. I just thought we should make sure you were thoroughly tested.”

His gaze drops, the first time he’s looked at any part of me other than my face, but his assessment feels less like Marclinus’s ogling and more of a strategic scan, as if he’s checking me for weapons. As if I could possibly be hiding any under this flimsy robe.

Not that I wouldn’t be tempted to stab him if I happened to have a blade nearby right now.

“Were you preparing yourself for another interlude with the heir?” he asks. “You have moved quickly, haven’t you, for all your pretenses at playing fair?”

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