Page 120 of The War of Four Winters

"The boys," he said, looking at the door. "They should know we're safe."

"They're with Taelyn. I'll send for them."

"Not yet," Ruith said, looking down at his bloodied armor. "I can't let them see me like this." He ran a hand through his disheveled hair. "I need to wash away the blood first. I need... time."

I nodded, understanding. He needed to transition from warrior-king with his father's blood on his hands to the father our boys needed. "They're safe with Taelyn. They can wait until you're ready."

I led him to the bathing chamber where steaming water waited in a copper tub. Servants had filled it earlier, and the tub's enchantment kept the water perfectly heated, a luxury I appreciated now more than ever.

"Let me help you," I said.

He let me remove his armor piece by piece. The bloodied breastplate. The vambraces he'd worn to protect against his father's blade. The mud-spattered greaves. Each piece I set aside until only the man remained, stripped of all symbols of kingship.

I guided him to the tub, supporting him as he stepped in. He sighed as the heat enveloped him, his muscles finally releasing some of their tension.

"I should have gone with you," I said, gathering soap and cloths.

"The key only allowed one of my blood to pass," he reminded me, voice dull with exhaustion. "And you were barely recovered from the river."

I knelt beside the tub, washing his shoulders. Blood and dirt turned the water pink. I cleaned each inch of him, my hands gentle against his skin.

"He was waiting for me," Ruith said suddenly. "Alone in his chambers. As if he knew I was coming through passages no one should know existed."

I continued washing him, letting him speak at his own pace.

"He offered me a final drink together. Explained how Michail first approached him about keeping you captive, using your life essence to slow the rot." Ruith's eyes met mine, pain breaking through. "He didn't see you as a person, Elindir. Just a commodity to trade."

The cloth fell from my hand. "Wait. They had an arrangement? Tarathiel and Michail?" My voice sharpened with shock. "They were working together?"

Ruith nodded grimly. "A business arrangement, as Tarathiel described it."

Bile rose in my throat. All those months in chains, all those lives lost to Michail's corruption… All part of a deal between two tyrants using people as bargaining chips.

"I didn't know," I said, struggling to keep my voice steady. "I never imagined they were collaborating."

"Neither did I," Ruith admitted. "My father was always pragmatic about alliances, but this..." He shook his head in disgust.

I retrieved the fallen cloth and continued washing him. I needed the routine task to anchor myself as my mind reeled from this new information.

"I know this is a shock," Ruith said softly. "I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to apologize for." I dropped a kiss on his cheek.

I kept washing him, moving from his chest to his arms, to his hands, cleaning blood from under his nails. When he was clean, I helped Ruith from the bath, watching as water sluiced down his body in rivulets that caught the firelight. My fingers trembled slightly as I reached for one of the thick towels warming by the hearth. The simple act of drying him—this man who had faced his father and ended a war—felt like a sacred ritual after so much death.

"I can't lose you," I whispered, pressing my lips to the scar beneath his ribs. The raised tissue was smooth beneath my mouth, a permanent reminder of his sacrifice. "Not after everything."

"You won't," he said, his voice steadier now than mine. His fingers caught my chin, tilting my face up to meet his gaze. "We've survived too much to fall now."

I continued drying him, working my way down his body with the towel. When I knelt before him, my hands moved slowly over his calves, his knees, his thighs. Each scar told its own story of survival, of moments when death had come close but ultimately failed to claim him. I traced a particularly deep mark on his thigh with my thumb before pressing my lips against it.

The taste of his skin made the moment more real. My tongue traced the scar, tasting life after nearly drowning in that freezing river. His muscles tensed beneath my mouth as I worked higher, my breath ghosting over his hardening length.

His cock twitched as my lips brushed against it, the vein along its underside pulsing visibly with each beat of his heart. I glanced up to find his eyes had darkened, pupils blown wide with a hunger that matched the desperation clawing beneath my own skin. I took him into my mouth, groaning at the satisfying stretch of my lips around him.

He hardened fully in my mouth and the weight of him on my tongue sent heat spiraling through my body. After days of feeling fragile, of healing from injuries and near-drowning, this act felt like reclaiming control. My own cock strained painfully against my clothing, each bob of my head sending a jolt of pleasure through me. I needed this, needed to feel alive after staring death in the face, needed the physical reminder that we had both survived against impossible odds.

"Gods, Elindir," Ruith groaned above me, a sound so broken and raw that it sent shivers down my spine. His fingers tangled in my hair, not guiding, just connecting as I worked my tongue along the sensitive underside of his shaft.

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