Page 15 of Healer to the Ash King
“No assassin worth the name would have presented herself to me like that. And no one knew I was going to fetch you until mere hours before my arrival. You could not be a plant of the Undoing. And if you were one of those despicable rebels, you wouldn’t have protected me on the road today.”
“Maybe I protected you so I could gain your trust,” I reply.
“If you were a spy looking to gain closer access, you would have slept with me, to deepen that trust.”
I press my lips together, flushing. “So you’re saying if Idosleep with you, that means I’m a spy.”
He lifts an eyebrow. “Your logic is flawed. Suffice it to say that I like the idea of having a protective water-wielder and a skilled healer in the room next to mine, in case any agents of the Undoing make their way to my chambers.”
Pulling his robe tighter around himself, he moves to the door. “And in case you have any plans to seduce me—this door locks. On my side.”
“Your Majesty,” I say crisply. “Again, I was not trying to seduce you during our journey, nor will I ever attempt such a thing.”
“That is fortunate, because I am no longer interested in your body or your personality, only your magic.”
“Well, that’s—that’s perfect. I’m glad.”Because I was never interested in your body or personality, you pompous, cruel asshole. I can’t help smirking a little at my inner monologue, and he narrows his eyes, the scarlet glow brightening.
“There it is again,” he murmurs. “That smile. You cannot tell me that’s an innocent smile. It’s too full of secrets.”
“I’m afraid you’re misinterpreting me, my lord,” I tell him. “I have no secrets.” Except the alternate side of my healing magic, which he will never, ever discover.
“I think you have many secrets.” The Ash King moves toward me. “Things you don’t even know about yourself.”
“I’m very self-aware,” I murmur.
He’s drifting nearer, right up to the bed. His ringed hand trails along the covers, catching a tassel and playing with it. His fingers aren’t slender and fragile, though; they look strong, ready to close around the grip of a knife or the hilt of a sword. Ready to wield whips of flame, or to blast fire at his enemies.
He killed people today, with those hands.
“How does it work?” The question slips out before I can think better of it.
“What?” He lifts his eyes to mine.
“Your magic. When I wield water, I have to pull it from somewhere. I can’t produce it. But your body emits fire naturally.”
He holds my gaze so long without speaking that a strange heat flushes over my skin and my pulse quickens. His cheekbones and jawline are so perfectly parallel to each other, and his forehead is so smooth except for a tiny dent between his eyebrows. His nose—just the right size.
A thorough lover,Teagan said.Nice to look at.
Why am I thinking of those words?
The Ash King leans forward a little, and a strand of his white hair slips over his shoulder and brushes against my hand. “Have the maid bring some food to your room. It has been a long day, and you must be hungry. Good night, Healer.”
He leaves the room, closing the curtained door just as the maid enters.
How odd. Did he hear her coming?
7
The man in front of me has been taken apart. Literally.
His chest cavity gapes, ribs and flayed skin folded back to reveal glistening organs still pulsing with life. His penis lies severed between his legs. He’s missing all his toenails and both his thumbs. His mouth gapes, the bleeding stump of a tongue quivering helpless in the dark, moaning orifice.
I retch and turn away, just in time to avoid splattering the victim in my vomit.
“I thought you were a healer,” says the Ash King coldly from behind me. “Surely you’ve seen damaged bodies before.”
“I’ve healed plague victims covered in oozing boils, and I once regrew a man’s hand after he was mauled by an ash-burrower,” I gasp. “But this—the cruelty—”
