Quinn looked like he would argue, but only for a flash. His eyes trickled to Nyssa, and then he backed himself out of the room.
Nadir’s eyes closed as though bringing himself back to it just being them in the room once more. His back muscles flexed in the shadows of the fire-lit lamp by the bed as he strained his hands over his face.
“For a moment, I forgot where we were,” he whispered. “For a moment… this weight on my chest had been lifted. You were back in my arms. That we were at my home in the Umber…”
His thoughts trailed, and he reached over to the floor, pulling her dress up from the ground. She fumbled with it before pushing it over her head. The stiffness of her lashing wounds made her wince.
“Wait—”
He’d caught a glimpse of the wound that wrapped her rib, and his eyes widened. She pushed her arms through the dress but left her back open as he moved, and then his hands trailed over her skin.
"Your mark—“
She flinched when he barely touched the ripped skin, and it made her cringe to realize the whip had cut through it.
“I will murder them with my bare hands,” he promised. “That woman will feel what it is like to be tortured before she dies.”
She didn’t say anything as the dress fell the rest of the way around her and bunched at her bent legs. His forehead came to a rest on her temple.
“How long do we have?” she whispered.
“An hour, probably,” he managed.
Her shoulders caved as the hurt of it pressed her chest, and he laid back on the bed. She went with him, lying her chest and arm over his torso. But he turned so that he was facing her, his arms still wrapped around her, and she closed her eyes as his forehead leaned against hers.
"Tell me about the Umber," she whispered. "Tell me how preparations are coming. If Lex has driven herself mad."
A small smile slipped on his lips. "Okay, Princess."
For the next hour, he spoke softly about what was happening at home: the food that would be ripening in his forest soon, the water serpent still coming near the shore but no longer threatening them. With every joke and witty comment, she found her mouth recognizing the feeling of a smile again. She memorized the crinkle of his eyes, the soft dimple in his cheek, his stubble beneath her fingers...
And when the Porter came back the second time, Nadir bartered with gold for two minutes to say goodbye to her.
"Do you want me to bring anything?" he asked in a low enough voice that the Porter couldn't hear.
"You're not bartering for me next time," she breathed. "I doubt it would be wise."
"An entire batch of flaky pastries then."
The banter made her heart melt, and she clenched her jaw to stifle the tear from dripping down her cheek. He apparently felt it, for he wrapped his arms around her one last time, whispering, "I don't want to let you go," in her ear.
"You have to."
He trembled in her arms. A last desperate ploy. She knew he would have taken her if she'd asked it. One word would have had him slicing every person's throat, had her bringing her fire and calling on her eagle. Him throwing her a dagger to help him as they pushed their way out of the camp. And they would have succeeded with grand effect.
But she had a job to do.
So she pulled back, pressed her hand to his cheek, and then she forced herself out of his embrace.
"Porter Quinn," she made herself call out.
The door swung back, and the Porter entered once more.
"The sun has risen. I believe you'll be taking me back to His Grace now," she uttered, knowing to avoid Nadir's eyes.
Nadir's arms dropped from her, and Nyssa forced her legs to move.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
