“I left the bowl at the end. I’ll be back. Do not leave this cell.”
He seems less worried by the idea of me attacking him. I get the sense that he’d likely welcome it. Another thought crosses my mind at that, and I tuck it away to ask Eres. I don’t trust this one to give me an honest answer. He returns with an almost overflowing bowl, placing it down on the ground and throwing a rag at me. “To wash. You’ll need to rebraid your hair. We have some standards here.”
Ignoring him, I drop to my haunches and dip my finger in the water, licking it. I force myself to wait for several seconds before scooping it into my mouth, washing away the ache and the dryness as the inelegant sound of my drinking fills the cell.
“We do have cups,” Duskbane says dryly. When I look up, he’s leaning against the doorway, arms folded as he watches me with a frown that belies the lightness of his words. “You should have said if you were thirsty. That was for washing.”
My smile is sweet. “So you can poison me?”
It’s clear that the plan I built most of my life around is a little less than worthless at this point. Kaelen Duskbane does not strike me as a male who would be turned by pleading and wide eyes. Nor, I suspect, will he be turned by verbal sparring and fire, although I have plenty to offer.
Unfortunately, I suspect he hates me enough that whatever I offer would be met with disdain. Not to mention that he already has a lover.
How, I have little idea, since he has the manners of a boorish goat. Particularly when it’s Eres, who seems far kinder.
Still. I need to identify the right approach, and in the meantime, I intend to needle him enough to identify anything useful that I can use to get closer.
Even assholes like Duskbane have vulnerabilities. Eres is one, although the thought of using the male doesn’t sit well.
Contrary to what he believes, Lightbringers have our own code of honor. A life debt is no small thing. I owe Eres a measure of allegiance.
But nothing can stop me using him to pick at the brooding male in front of me. Leaning back, I toss the cloak back and unbutton Eres’s shirt, yanking it over my head and dropping it on top of the cloak.
Duskbane doesn’t move.
Neither do I, although I had relied on some sense of courtesy to have him rushing to turn around, off-balance. Instead, I grab the rag awkwardly with my numb fingers and soak it into the water, grimacing as the water soaks into the bandage around my palms before I start scrubbing at the filth on my arms as best I can. “Tell me what to expect at this Binding.”
When he says nothing, I look up. Duskbane has his eyes fixed on the wall behind me, the now familiar glare on his face. It seems to be his usual expression.
My voice is coy. “Does it talk, or does it merely glare?”
Perhaps I can push him into attempting to kill me. I fully intend to ask Eres tomorrow if self-defense is acceptable within the constraints of the Binding without inadvertently killing both of us. And if it is, I intend on becoming as irritating as a pebble in the prince’s shoe until he snaps. “Come now, Duskbane. You can’t possibly be so mortified by the sight of a pair of nipples, or you would have turned around like a gentleman.”
Nothing. I lean forward. “Is your jaw actually grinding?”
“Be quiet,” he snaps finally. “Finish what you need to. Play your games if you must, witch. I’m not looking.”
Truth. He’s not looking at me at all. Not even a flicker. I keep my eyes on him as I rise, bending and rinsing the cloth before moving it over my body. Goose pimples erupt over my skin as I wash in the cold air.
I use the opportunity to inspect myself for injuries. Mainly bruising, already various deep shades of blue and purple against my skin, which should fade quickly. Eres’s lattice still holds, and I avoid the edges, unwilling to risk tearing or disturbing it. Dropping the rag, I look down at my hands, grimacing. “Do you have clean bandages I can use?”
I look up, catching his throat working. Without a word, Duskbane reaches down to his shirt, and I blink as he rips a strip from the bottom with little effort, and then another. “Interesting healing technique.”
“I didn’t bring any.” He holds the cream linen strip out, still refusing to look at me. “This is clean. Far cleaner than yours currently are, I’d wager. If you want them, take them. Eres will want to change them later in any case.”
Slowly, I reach for them. “Thank you.”
He blows out a slow breath. “If you want me to bind them for you, put some damn clothes on.”
I expected him to look. To at least glance. I’m not shy about my body. Far too many have inspected me for that over the years, criticizing and judging. All in readiness for this male who refuses to even look.
And of course, there was Cindral, and histraining.
When I step closer, he tenses. “Get away from me, witch.”
“You can look,” I murmur. “Most would. I wouldn’t be able to stop you.”
I have to fight a flinch as the words leave my mouth. His eyes flicker, and I wonder if he noticed it. If something gave me away, some instinctive movement in the corner of his vision. “Nobody is going to touch you. Perhaps Lightbringers treat their female prisoners differently, but here, we don’t assault women. Nor do we accept sex as a bribe. Nowput your fucking clothes on, or I will wrap you in shadow and you can wear nothing but my erevas. Your decision.”
