“Nikator,” she started. “I?—”
“Are you done?” He motioned to her empty bowl.
“Err, yes.”
Without another word, he rose and began cleaning up, not giving her another chance to speak. He gathered the supplies and packed them away before putting out the fire and leaving the stacked, dirtied pot and bowls beside it.
He didn’t look up from folding his bedroll as he said, “There’s a river over there. Go wash up.” He waved to somewhere behind her. “And don’t even think about escaping; I’ll just catch you, anyway.”
Biyu frowned at the implication. “I wasn’t planning?—”
“On fleeing?” Nikator snorted, his cold eyes narrowing as he finally took her in. There was no kindness in his expression, nor any goodwill behind those gem eyes. “I was always so distracted by that lovely mouth of yours that I never realized how easily you lie. It’s like second nature to you, isn’t it? Have you ever once been truthful? Maybe you should try it sometimes.”
Her face warmed and she hated how those barbed words stabbed at her. They wrapped around her chest like thorns, digging deeper into her already worn and shredded innards. She swallowed down a snarky comment fueled by hurt, and spun around. She had only marched a few feet before he spoke again.
“Stay within the wards, else a creature might snap you up. The river shouldn’t have any beasts lurking within it, since they’ll be wary of the wards.”
Her attention skated to her right, where a rectangular red paper was nailed to a tree with a warding spell stamped on it with dried ink. Now that he mentioned it, she saw there were a few around their campsite. A shiver ran down her spine as she hurried toward the sound of rushing water. Monstrous creatures lived within the empire, but the more populated cities and even a few villages had protection wards surrounding them that keptmost of the worst of them at bay. Rural areas like this were usually teeming with monsters.
Biyu’s feet ached as she stepped over broken twigs and bramble; her delicate silk shoes were meant for indoor use, not something like this, and they had seen better days. Mud splotches and street residue—which she prayed wasn’t urine or animal feces—had stained the delicate fabric into a dull brownish color.
When she reached the river, she kneeled down and sank her hands into the cool water, then removed her shoes and dipped her throbbing feet. A sigh escaped from her and she tipped her head back to stare at the bright sky.
Minutes ticked by before Biyu decided to bathe completely. A quick rinse in the river wouldn’t hurt, surely. She had bathed at the inn yesterday, but a sponge bath was hardly effective compared to a good dunking in water. She was sad that her perfumed oils weren’t here—a luxury she hadn’t even realized was a luxury—but the instant she stripped her clothes and stepped into the stream, she forgot all about that. She scrubbed her scalp, her skin, and beneath her nails until the grime of travel and sleeping on the ground disappeared. The water was frigid; a clear contrast to the warm summer air.
Her nipples pebbled in the cold and her teeth chattered. She splashed her face and worked quickly to rid herself of the smell of horse, sweat, and dirt. The water reached her mid-thighs and she was too nervous to go any deeper, since she didn’t know how to swim.
A rustle behind her made her freeze. The thought of monsters made her jerk upright and turn sharply behind her. She half-expected to find a grotesque creature, a spirit, or a snarling beast watching her, but it was only Nikator. He had stopped a few feet away from the riverbank, the dirtied pot and bowls in one hand. He stiffened when he caught sight of her,his gaze flicking down to her figure and lingering on her breasts, where the water made them glisten.
It was like they were both stuck in a trance. He stared, and stared, and his lips parted ever so slightly. She didn’t move, her breath caught in her throat and her body warming wherever his eyes tracked, as if he was touching her there. She could see the darkening of desire swirling in those sapphire eyes, deep and intent—a promise, slow, thoughtful, reverent. It reminded her of their nights together, and she could see the hunger there.
He might have hated her, but he also wanted her.
She could feel herself unraveling.
He broke eye contact first, ripping his gaze away so violently as he turned to the side to give her privacy. Even from his side profile she could see the hardness of his clenched jaw, the way his fingers tightened over the pot until his knuckles were white.
“I didn’t know you were bathing,” he bit out.
Biyu licked her lips and rested a hand on the rippling water. “I figured it wouldn’t take long,” she murmured. “I’m not used to sleeping outside and I felt dusty, so …”
He gave a curt nod, his voice hoarse. “Put your clothes on.”
She stepped out of the river, the water sluicing off her body as she did so. She kept her attention trained on him, waiting to see if he would glance over to catch a sight. His free hand curled into a fist like he was restraining himself. The muscles on his jaw feathered and he turned his face further away. The movements were so purposeful, so volatile. Like he didn’t want to do something reckless and stupid.
Like touch her.
She still had that effect on him, she realized as she shook out her wet hair. Droplets flew over the clearing and a few landed on him, by the way he flinched. But still, he didn’t look her way again.
“Do you have a towel so I can dry off?”
Nikator muttered something in a language she didn’t understand—by the way he said it, she understood it to be a curse. “Princess … just put your fucking clothes on.”
Voice tight, uncomfortable and strained; he was barely controlling himself.
“But then my clothes will get wet,” she said.
Another curse.
