He hesitates for a moment, but nods. Sol and I watch as he slopes off in the direction we came from, his hands slipping into his pockets.
“Maybe we should go with him.” Sol frowns as he runs a hand over his face. “He’s bloody tankered.”
I consider it for a moment before shaking my head and turning to follow Esme. “He can control himself. And he hasn’t had that much. He was baiting Esme more than anything else.”
Certainly not enough to need a helping hand. And his footsteps were steady enough as he walked away.
Sol sighs. “I’m heading to the market before I turn in.”
“For Matthias?” I twist, considering the warm light in the distance that stretches into the sky, a map to the hundreds of stalls that make up the market. This city—one of many that make up the endless territories of the red lands—comes alive at night.
Sol is already strolling away, his head dipping in a nod. “He wants some supplies. Herbs, instruments, you know.”
I do know. Things that will be far out of our reach by this time tomorrow. “Get some extracurcuma. I’ll head back and check on Merrick. It’s not like him to be unwell.”
His hand lifts in acknowledgment, but he doesn’t look back. “Already on the list.”
Chapter three
Selene
“This water is cold.”
It sloshes around me as I recline back in the deep iron tub with a sigh, my head resting against the hard rim. I dip my fingers into the water as if I’m not immersed in it, lifting them up and rubbing them together. My body shivers, but I have no intention of removing myself until I’m forced to.
The open window isn’t helping, but it’s not hindering, either. The air here varies from baking and stuffy during the day to a warm balm at night, and the breeze offers more than the water as it dances across my exposed skin. My eyes slip to the open window, the panes of glass pushed out to let as much air in as possible.
Night sky stretches out in endless, starless black.
A single ship sits in the harbor. The sails are down, as they have been for the last twelve nights.
Tomorrow, they might unfurl.
And I will have missed my chance.
The air teases me, slipping so easily between the world outside and this room. I shift my legs, and the chain attached to the cuff on my ankle clanks where it connects to a hook buried deep in the wall.
I return my attention to the woman with her back to me.
Across the room, Tieren meets my eyes in the tarnished mirror with a single, raised brow, a sardonic expression on her reflection in the cracked glass. Her movements are still graceful, even as she wipes off the thick mask of her performance. Probably more graceful than my own would be.
She plays me better than I could play myself.
Tieren tugs off her white wig, tossing it carelessly onto the dressing table we share and revealing the pitch black tightly braided hair beneath. “My apologies, your majesty, that your precious bath isn’t up to standard. I’ll get right on that for you.”
My lips press together as I reach for the soap. “I only meant that if you wanted to wash off—”
But she’s already stalking into her own bedchamber, the connecting door to our shared dressing space slamming shut, taking her usual irateness at having to pretend to be me with it. Sighing, I take the bar, lathering my hands until they’re filled with fresh-smelling, lemon-scented suds and scrubbing at my arms.
My legs. My stomach. My face.
Lower.
Behind me, the creak of a floorboard has me pausing. It’s followed by a rough, hacking cough, as if he’s bringing up the full contents of his lungs in the middle of my bedroom, and my face twists as I stare down at my soap-covered hands.
I left him asleep. Passed out, with heavy, harsh snores filling the air. Along with sweat and sourness, and something else that makes my stomach curl in revulsion as I begin the scrubbing anew.
With my ears focused on the bedchamber behind me and my eyes facing down, I almost jump out of my skin at the words that come from the opened doorway, the one to the main hall. “He’s gone. Did he pay?”
