Both guards move into action, taking the girl in their arms and pulling her away. The assassin doesn’t say a word, but the relief is written all over her face. She thinks she’ll be able to get away. The thought alone makes me want to drag her back to the fire.
Between the pile and the castle, I stand. Tickling along my calves, my nightgown moves with the evening breeze. Despite the warmth of the fire and the nearness of my husband, the wind chills the spots of blood against the material.
A gentle hand brushes at the dried blood on my lip. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Iri stands blocking my face from the view of any other patrolling guards. “I could put her head on a stick, but you didn’t like it so much the last time I did that.”
“You’re learning.” My lips twitch with the slightest trace of a smile.
“I’m learning.” His eyes search my face, then my body, for any trace of injury I could be hiding.
“Does that mean that I’m backsliding? Somehow changing into the Cruel Queen?”
“Darling, you married the Cruel King. I think you’re stuck with the nickname no matter what you do. Wear the title with pride, and they can’t use it to hurt you.” He presses a tender kiss against my brow. “Call it a momentary lapse in judgment. A whoopsie, if you will.” Warmth grazes the backside of my hand as he interlocks his fingers in mine. Away from the roaring flames fueled by the never-ending dead, he leads me inside.
“I think almost killing someone is more than just a whoopsie.”
“Yeah, but technically they tried to kill you first, so really that’s a just cause. If you hadn’t made it so public, I would have willingly let you slit her throat on your bedroom floor.”
I dip my head, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach.
“You looked so...” He swallows. “You looked ready to burn the entire world down. I was worried. The guards were too. It’s not me they are worried about. It’s you.”
“I was just scared and angry,” I admit.
Quietly, the latch behind us clicks. The large doors close, separating us from the roaring fire. How fast will the gossip of my rash actions make it through the castle? How far will the gossip go? Across the kingdom?
“Thank you for giving me an out.” I press my lips to his cheek, his stubble rough against my lips.
Iri hums, taking a moment to close his eyes and let our bodies align. “Don’t you just love that peace you have when we’re this close?”
I know what he is talking about. Our hearts beat in tandem. Racing thoughts slow. The world appears brighter, sharper, and somehow smaller. An optical illusion of the mating bond. Even with the reassuring feeling of never being alone, my mind keeps circling around the assassins.
“I’m not sure if my mind will ever be at peace.” Not with a bleeding, soon-to-be-rotting corpse still hot on my bedroom floor. Goddess above, I hope the maids can get the stone scrubbed clean. Surely, they are good at that, seeing as Iri lives here.
Slipping his fingers through mine, Iri guides me through the twisting hallways. Red carpets shift to smooth stone behind a closed door. Traveling through the corridors is hardly a blip in the events of my evening.
Soft paws and long nails patter against the ground. Thick, fluffy fur nuzzles into my hand, Jubilee’s wet snout pressing against my palm in comfort. I ruffle the hair on her head, and she moseys away toward the bed.
“Do you want a bath?” Iri says. He watches his own windows as he nimbly undoes the buttons of my gown.
“I’m too tired for a bath.”
Soft cotton material grazes my skin along with the tender touch of Iri’s fingertips. He slips the gown over my head. Naked with the exception of my underwear, cold nibbles on my flesh, leaving behind trails of goosebumps.
“A simple washcloth will have to do, then.” With his back turned, I can almost see his scars through the scorching holes where his wings threatened to burst through. I lose sight of them as he disappears into the bathroom before reappearing with a small wet cloth in his hands.
He starts with my face. Blood flakes from under my lip, peeling away under each swipe of the rag. Clean skin, unmarred by the blows made by the assassins, starts to make me feel like I could be at peace for a moment.
Iri draws a line down my neck between my breasts and swirls the cloth over my abdomen. My eyes flutter closed. Where sticky blood was plastered to my skin, the rag makes me feel fresh again.
“There.” His voice is firm. “I’ll get you one of my night shirts.”
“They came through my windows. What makes you think they can’t get through yours, too?” My eyes are still pressed closed. The darkness is a comfort. It’s a ‘if I can’t see them, they can’t see me’ mindset. But with my anxiety, it doesn’t actually work. So pretty much there isn’t a point to me keeping my eyes shut. I blink my eyes open.
“You think whoever sent them would send more than two?” A white shirt dangles from his hands. He holds it out for me to take.
“Clearly, it was Aisha.” I sigh. Is it not as blatantly obvious to him? Who else could want me dead?
Two dark, normally broody eyebrows lift. “Two assassins are already more than normal royalty receives.”
