I gathered my skirts and waded in fully clothed. The fabric billowed, growing heavy as it absorbed the water. Heat wrapped my thighs and climbed higher. The deepest part of the spring was where he stood, where the heat bubbled. The shallows were already cooling.
I approached him.
“You didn’t run,” he said quietly.
“I couldn’t let you bleed out.”
“Even after what you saw me do?”
“They deserved it,” I said hollowly. “The king, Henrik, all of them, but…the way you did it. Youenjoyedit.”
“Yes.”
The simple admission chilled me.
He closed his eyes, his mouth curving. “I waited a century to kill them exactly how I’d imagined. It was…perfect.”
I should’ve been scrambling for the shore, but pity twisted in my chest. What kind of existence was that? Ahundred years spent nursing hatred, living for the moment you made someone else bleed.
“So now you’re free,” I said. “What’s next? More killing?”
“Probably.”
“That’s it?”
His eyes opened. “I’ve watched enough mortals die to know that mercy is a luxury most can’t afford.”
“Compassion isn’t a weakness.”
“Isn’t it? You helped me today.” He tilted his head, studying me. “And what did it cost you? Your chance to escape.”
I gritted my teeth. “At least I can live with myself. Can you?”
His eyes flickered. Then he turned, presenting his back to me. Two scars cut across his flesh, not the clean marks of blades. Deep gouges that ran from his shoulders to the middle of his back, the tissue raised and twisted. The edges were ragged.
I leaned in, drawn by the sheer brutality of those wounds. My palm hovered over them, not quite touching. Whoever had given him these wanted to maim him. My fingers moved toward the scars, brushing them.
He spun, grabbing my wrist. “Don’t.”
“What are these from?”
His jaw flexed. Then he released me with a slow breath, sinking into the water. “They’re old. That’s all you need to know.”
“They look like they still hurt.”
“They never healed right.”
He swam to the shallow end. Water cascaded from his body in sheets as he strode out of the pool.
I whirled around, my heart beating too fast.
Fabric rustled behind me. The soft thud of something hitting earth. The scrape of leather as he stepped into his boots, the whisper of cloth on skin. Each sound seemed magnified and far too intimate.
I peeked over my shoulder.
He tugged his shirt over his torso. Water trickled from his hair, disappearing beneath the collar.
“Don’t take long,” he said. “We leave soon.”
