Page 95 of The Cursed Kingdom

“I don’t think she can see in the water,” he says. What? Of course she can. “She wasn’t trying to show us her body.”

“Ask her,” he orders.

I shake my head. He can speak to Abby himself.

After a long pause, Mason clears his throat and turns toward Abby. My soap bar disintegrates, and I step out of the water and begin wringing out our clothing.

Abby stands far up the bank, looking miserable as she squeezes excess water from her shirt. I’m grateful she’s cleaned herself, even if it’s in the most inconvenient way possible. Her clothes will take longer to dry when on, and she’ll get cold.

“Human! Can you see through the water?” Mason practically barks his question at Abby.

Her pulse picks up, a reaction she always has when Mason speaks directly to her. I look over, finding myself interested in what she has to say. She tends to ignore my questions, but she might answer Mason’s. She’s more frightened of him.

“Canyou?” she asks.

Mason doesn’t respond, and when her gaze shifts to me, I nod.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

ABBY

I AM HORRIFIED. Humiliated. Exceptionally fucking annoyed.

Several negative emotions course through me as I absorb what Kie just confirmed. I very purposefully went into the water for privacy, under the impression I couldn’t be seen. The water surrounding me was murky, and I was careful to keep my back to the princes.

They were staring the entire time. Mason especially.

My panic mounts as I try to remember everything I did and every little movement I made. I know I didn’t show anything below my waist, but I can’t recall what direction I was facing when I washed my chest and torso.

The underboob sweat I’ve accumulated these past few days is nothing to joke about, and I lifted both my shirt and bra entirely.

Mason sucks his cheeks into his mouth, looking vaguely upset. I can’t fathom why. It wasn’thistits that were just out on display. Even if they were, I doubt he’d care. He’s always swinging his dick around. Even now, as he stands beside Kie, he’s proudly got the entirety of himself on display. I hope a wild animal comes lunging out of the forest and bites it off.

Kie’s still naked, but he somehow manages to look modest in his nude state. He doesn’t linger, and the moment he finishes ringing out his and Mason’s clothing, he begins to redress.

I’d be impressed by how much water he manages to get out of his clothes if I weren’t still panicking about just having exposed myself to Mason and Kie. Neither acted on it, which I suppose a small part of me is grateful for, but I’m still not happy about the situation.

They don’t deserve to see a single inch of me.

“Be calm, Abby. Your tits are hardly the first we’ve seen,” Kie says, breaking the tense silence stretching between the three of us. He looks upward, his lips pursed. “We need to continue moving if we want to reach the portal before dark.”

I grind my teeth, biting back a snarky remark as I continue wringing out the bottom of my shirt. The fabric is stained with blood and dirt, but it’s significantly cleaner than it was before. Every bit of me was caked with mud, but I got most of it off.

There’s something to be said about the mental benefits of feeling clean.

I pull a pair of fresh socks out of my backpack and tug them on before lacing up my sneakers. I have a few extra pairs of clean underwear I’d like to change into, but there hasn’t been an opportunity to do so. Mason still watches me pee, and I haven’t been given a single moment of privacy.

I doubt I’ll find it between now and meeting Zaha. This is the home stretch, and Kie and Mason will be keeping a close eye on me.

Kie and Mason take their sweet time dressing, and I drag my fingers through my hair before digging my nut container out of my bag. I don’t know when I’ll have fresh water again, and I fill my plastic container to the brim before carefully sealing it shut.

I don’t risk putting it back in my bag, though. I don’t want it to spill. Instead, I clutch it to my chest, holding it like it’s the most precious thing I’ve ever owned. Right now, it is.

“Let’s go,” Kie says, hurrying us along.

I press my lips together and stare at my shoes. I’m already dressed and ready to go, and if anybody should be on the receiving end of Kie’s rushing, it’s Mason. He still hasn’t put his shirt on, the oversized shifter too busy prodding at his ribcage to do so. His wound looks fully healed, and I glare at the tiny, pink scar left behind.

I wish he had died.

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