Calian laughed. His deep baritone voice made it even more appealing, some of that hidden warmth peeking out. "You're much more interesting to be around when you're not crying about going on hunger strikes."
This time, the maid almost didn't manage to keep me in the water.
I clung to the edge of the copper tub, sending a few bubbles sloshing to the floor. "Crying about it? We had aplan, you bastard. Then you stole me from my home. My ancestors are in that temple. Who will care for them now?"
"Your plan was suicide at best." His warmth was gone, replaced by the more familiar coldness. "At worst, they would've run through you and gone for your pack next. And you're not the only one with ancestors left behind."
I bit my tongue before I could lash out again.
There was truth in his words, and pain hidden beneath them.
I settled back in the water, scowling at the back of his head as the maid lifted one of my hands and began cleaning under my grimy fingernails. There was probably a year’s worth of blood and dirt caked under them.
"Where did you come from?" I finally asked.
Several minutes passed in silence as the maid moved on to my other hand. Her eyes kept flicking towards Calian's chair, as though she too were curious to know the answer.
There was finally a creak as he sat up straight in the chair. "You can go, Karina. I'll handle her from here."
The maid began to protest, but Calian held up a hand. I shrank in the bath, keeping everything below my shoulders hidden under the bubbles.
She let the sponge slip into the water, then rounded the tub and picked up my old clothes.
"No!" I lunged back out of the water, reaching for them. "You can't take them!"
The bloodstains were all that remained of the wolves I'd failed. I was sure they'd just incinerate them, thinking they were old rags.
The maid held them closer to her chest, looking at me like I was insane. "Caller, these aren't appropriate attire for you..."
"Leave them."
Calian's command echoed through the room.
The maid glanced at him once. From where she stood, she was able to see the look on his face, and whatever she saw there was enough to make her hurriedly place the ragged bundle on top of the dresser and scurry from the room.
Calian stood up and spun the chair around.
I sank below the bubbles again, but relief coursed through me that he’d stuck up for my desires.
I might not have my family's bones, but burying the remains of their blood would be as close as I could come to honoring them during the full moon.
He sat in the chair, braced one foot on the side of the bathtub, and surveyed me with his chin propped on his fist.
His stare—and silence—were so intense that I finally grabbed for the sponge and began scrubbing my foot just to avoid his gaze.
"You've seen the Fenris wolves." His voice was quiet. “The shadows.”
My left foot was sparkling clean now. I moved on to the right one, frowning at the anklet as I worked. "Of course."
"They're only his spies and outriders." Calian was still watching me intently. "They're nothing, Ayla."
Hearing him say my name like that made me pause and look up. "They almost destroyed my entire pack. How can they benothing?"
He shifted in the chair, moving his knee so I could only see his face over it.
I realized he'd just given me some privacy in his own way and began scrubbing more vigorously, determined not to waste the hot water.
Calian finally spoke again.