Page 71 of Court of Treachery

He nodded but did not speak.

“Perhaps I can give you a reason to hope.” Erendriel’s pale form hovered in Harper’s mind. It was nothing more than an impulse born of instinctive compassion, and he did not deserve it, but she reached out. He startled as she grasped his hand, laced her fingers through his, and pushed Erendriel’s vision to him. Dimitrius felt so reassuringly warm and solid amidst the uncertainty, and she enjoyed the contact more than she knew she ought to. Guilt twinged her at the realisation. His face slackened and he grasped Harper’s hand until his knuckles whitened. Only when the vision faded did his grip ease.

“What was that?” he breathed.

“Perhaps our only hope. I can’t decide whether it’s madness.”

“All has turned to insanity, Harper. And yet you are still here, living, breathing—hoping.” Dimitri gazed at her with ferocity—and the way he looked at her, as though she were the sun in the sky, stopped her breath. Did she imagine the fragile stroke of his thumb across the back of her hand before he pulled away? She could not ignore the low sweep in her belly at this thing growing between them.

“If that vision be true, higher powers than us are at work. Valxiron and Erendriel… Legends indeed. It makes sense now. How the half-elf with no magic now has power beyond measure—and darkness within. It is so much worse than I could have ever feared, yet if Erendriel herself speaks, acts, through you—if you are the light against the dark, then I have more hope than I have yet found. Perhaps there is a way to somehow unmake all of this by the magic of the Dragonhearts.”

“I don’t know how to make it come to pass, though,” she admitted, shivering at the recollection of the dark place within the vision that was scorched and dead.

“I would trust to Erendriel’s words. ‘If thou standest true and with faith unwavering, thou shalt triumph over Valxiron’s servant.’ Let that be your guide, whatever is to come.”

“What do you think she meant when she said, ‘beware the Tainted Star, and heed the Shadow’?”

Dimitri just shook his head, looking at the stone walls all around them. “You must hope that becomes clearer, too.”

“Can we not leave whilst he is gone?” she asked, disappointed, but struck by sudden inspiration.

“It is not so simple. We are bound now. I gave my word to him, and you cannot defy his strength. My blood and magic are his to command. We could probably walk through the very gates, but if he commanded it, I would have no choice but to return and he could drag you back, no matter how much we tried to resist.We would be punished savagely for it.” He scowled. “For now, we must remain wherever he commands us.”

Harper closed her eyes in frustration. “There must be a way.”

“There may be,” Dimitri acknowledged, but his reply was half-hearted. She realised why a heartbeat later. If there was a way, any loophole at all, he would have already found and exploited it. “Do not lose hope, Harper.” He rested his palm atop her hand with surprising softness before standing. “Come. I’ve drawn you a bath. You’ll feel better if you’re clean.”

Something warm settled in Harper’s chest. He had thought to do that for her?

“I will leave,” he said quickly. “As long as I can make sure you’re in there safely. I have done my best, but I do not know what lingering hurt may remain.”

He looked at her with an open question in his gaze, and his expression neutral—carefully so, she reckoned. Her eyes flicked to that coiling steam and back again. She nodded and swung her legs from under the coverlet. A groan escaped. Shehurt. Every inch of her was stiff and painful. Harper took his offered hand and staggered to her feet.

“Thank you,” she muttered. The rub of his thumb across her knuckles was his only answer—and it did nothing to lend steadiness to her legs.

“In here,” he said, drawing her through the archway. She gasped. Inset into the floor was a stone depression as wide and long as the bed—and it was filled with hot, steaming water covered in white foam. It smelleddelicious. Floral and fresh, it was a world away from—she caught a sniff of herself and grimaced, the back of her neck prickling with discomfort at the state of herself.

“Can you undress yourself?” he asked evenly, but the look he shot her was loaded with heat.

“Yes,” she forced out. She could not—would not—let him help her. Not in this state. Not ever. That was too dangerous. Harper tugged her hand from his.

“I’ll return in an hour.”

“Please don’t leave.” The words escaped before she realised. His lips parted. She licked hers. Her voice fell to a whisper. “I don’t want to be alone here.” Her attention flicked to the door. She did not trust—not at all—that she was safe here. Except with him, she realised.

“Of course. I’ll remain in there. Out of sight.” He nudged his head towards the bedroom.

Harper did not dare reply. Dimitri pulled a tall wooden screen across the entry to the bathing room, and Harper noted the large dark towel slung over it. She took a long, steadying breath, her body torn between fighting and submitting. She would be completely at his mercy, with just that flimsy screen in the way.

And yet, this felt so different to the first time they had met in close quarters, when he had offered her the common decency of a wash and clean clothes. Because now… her throat closed, and she swallowed past the thick lump there. Now she trusted Dimitrius, she realised, in a way she trusted so few others in her life. She had no doubt that she could take a bath there and he posed no threat to her—rather the opposite. Now, she felt as though she could count on him to defend her. That felt altogether too complicated. She tugged her stinking shirt over her head and kicked off the close-fitting leggings before she could delve into the danger of that thought and crossed to the bath.

She sat—gasping at the cold stone—upon the edge and swung her feet in. She could not see under the white foam. As her feet touched the bottom, Harper surmised that the depression was only knee high. In she slid, groaning with delight at the hot watermelting the tension in her body, and the soft kiss of the bubbles that popped against her skin. A build-up of pressure threatened a headache, and agitation lurked at the fringes of her mind—this kept both at bay, and she was glad for it.

“Are you quite alright in there?” Dimitrius called from the other room.

Something clenched within her. “Yes,” she forced back. There was a scrub and a bar of soap across the other side of the vast bath. She sloshed to them, grabbed both, and set to cleaning herself as vigorously as possible, until every inch of her gleamed and the soreness of her limbs had been banished to a dull ache.

A quick duck under the surface with her eyes scrunched shut rinsed the suds from her hair and she erupted from the water, surging to her feet with renewed vigour. The stone bottom of the bath was warm and smooth under her feet, and the water sluicing down her body a sensory pleasure in contrast to the grit and grime that had ingrained itself in every pore. This feltdelicious. She let out a sigh of relief. Dimitrius had been right. She did feel better for being clean.

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