Page 39 of Of Nightmares & Fire
“Shula, listen. You are ok. I’m not going to hurt you.” I say softly, tucking a sweat-soaked strand of hair behind her ear.
“Why do you keep calling me that? What are you doing here? What did youdo?” She asks all the questions I am not ready to answer. And I don’t. I stand with a grunt, pushing my hand to the wound on my chest. Astraea is still on the bed in a panic but awake and seemingly okay, so I cross the room and poke my head out the door. No one. I guess in this situation, it's probably a good thing Connard is so doltish when it comes to keeping the princess safe.
Before returning to her side, I light the lantern that is on her vanity. The soft glow illuminates the room just enough, and I set it on her bedside. Silently, she waits for me to say something.
“You’re bleeding.” She whispers, adjusting on the bed to cover herself, but I can tell she wants to see the wound for herself.
“It's nothing,” I grunt. “Are you hurt?” Her face scrunches up, and she looks down at herself, where she has the blankets pulled up close to her chin, and she shakes her head.
“No. I’m okay. Confused, but okay.” Worry clouds her eyes, and for a moment I want nothing more than to brush her sweat-soaked hair away from her face and tell her that there is nothing to worry about, but what just happened… It has even made me concerned about what is going on. She still hasn't calmed. Her chest is rising and falling heavily, and tears still make lines down her cheeks ever so often. I can't take her anywhere looking like I have just assaulted her.
“Stay here.” I order, turning and striding away. She calls after me with fear in her voice, but I’m forced to ignore her as I make my way into the connected bathing chamber. Using the hand pump, I let the warm water from the natural spring beneath the castle fill the tub. The water is not hot by any means, heated only by the sun in the reservoir it runs through, but warm enough to relax muscles and calm her frantic mind. I would heat it using my magick,, but it's going to take time to restore what I have used. The thought brings a new surge of worry to my mind. I won't be able to rend a portal out of here with its depletion…
I find tinctures beside her bath and open the first, lifting it to my nose. Lavender and something sweet like vanilla. I pour a measure into the water and also throw a jar of the bath petals into the water as well. The room is filled with a sweet floral aroma as the water, oil, and petals mix, turning the water a milky lilac, and then I take a deep breath and turn to retrieve the princess.
“What are you doing, Kyros?”
Chapter twenty-eight
Astraea
Istandinthedoorway to the bathing chamber, looking down at the man I just witnessed use magick unlike any I have ever heard of. I am frozen in shock. Kyros is crouched down next to the bath, where I see he has added oils and petals and filled the tub nearing the edge.
“You need to calm down.” He says finally, after what feels like an eternity of us just staring at one another. We both have questions; that much is clear.
“And what about you?” I ask,shakily.
“I am calm.”
“You are hurt and bleeding. I—I saw everything.” Another stretch of silence fills the space between us as he stands and walks to stand in front of me. His size is imposing, but nothing ever even touches the intensity of his eyes.
“And? What are we to do now, Shula?” I can feel the heat radiating from his body with how close he stands, and all thoughts leave me as I see his blood clouding the fabric of the gray tunic he wears. Before I lose my gall, I toss the blanket to my vanity chair, revealing my sleep dress beneath. His eyes track my silhouette, and I ignore the heat I see entering his gaze as I reach for the jar of healing balm on the tabletop.
“Take your shirt off.” I say without turning to face him as I snag the jar.
“And here I thought I was going to be the one getting you naked.” He chuckles, and the sound is so foreign that it causes me to pause. I stop, half way done removing the lid to the balm, and I gawk at him. There were no questions about my wanting his shirt removed; he just obliged. I swallow as I take in the sight of him. I’ve seen him without a shirt from afar and in the Colosseum, but then I was being careful not to let my eyes wander. I was being watched by my father and hundreds, if not thousands, of people. Right now, though? In the privacy of my own bathing chamber, I take my fill.
His body is like a dark god. Crafted of sin and shadows. The tattoos that swirl along his arms, chest, and torso reach over his impressive shoulders and toward his back. And the ones on his stomach dip low beneath the line of his trousers.
“My eyes are up here, Shula.” He whispers as his fingers lift my chin to meet his onyx stare. I cough, looking away from him as embarrassment heats my entire body.
“It seems we both have some secrets, but I think I have one that will help you.” I turn back around, showing him the jar. “May I?” He says nothing after looking at it but narrows his eyes before responding only with a nod. I hesitantly step around him, and I grab one of the bathing towels from beside the bath.
“Sit.” I say, gesturing to the edge of the alcove bathtub. He slowly does as I say and watches me as I dip the cloth into the water. Before I touch it to his skin, I pause, wanting to see his face, but at the same time, I’m also terrified of the truths I might find there.
“You don’t have to do this.” He breaks the silence and snaps my reluctant eyes to his. There is kindness I didn’t expect, and just like last night, a conflict fights for attention on his features.
“It's my fault you’re hurt. It was my nightmare.” I don’t even know what I’m saying. What is he even doing here? If those angry claws had gotten me like they did him, I likely would have been dead. I don’t have magick to fight like he did. I look at him through my lashes. “This might hurt a little.” I say softly before I press the rag to the wound. He barely flinches.
“Does this happen often?” His eyes track every movement I make with my hands but quickly return to my face between each. The small space feels even smaller with his attention on me like this. I don’t think my voice is going to work without breaking, so instead I nod.
He is silent longer than it takes for me to ensure the wound is clean and even so after applying the balm. I’ve never actually tended to anyone else’s wounds. I’d only ever felt Colette doing my back or watched as she did any markings that were made to my arms, and never with a magickal balm, only the cleansing solutions.This can't be that different, can it?He doesn’t react to its warming or the magick that it's surely imbued with, only watches me.
“Why do you have such a balm?” He finally asks. The question I knew was coming, and as much as I don’t want to lie, I also can't face what his reaction might be knowing how weak I am, so I settle on a half-truth.
“It was brought to the castle for Colette.”
“Your chambermaid?” He asks, trying to catch my gaze, but I cannot look at him. Not with my father’s words bouncing through my head. He must feel the same. A man in such a position that he’s in, but the longer I think about it, the more my frustration begins to peek through. As though by looking this closely he can see into the fine cracks in my surface and is trying to whittle away at them, one gaze at a time.
