I growled under my breath, “You should’ve let me give him a piece of my mind.”
“And let you cause a scene? Draw more eyes to us?” he said flatly. “No, thanks.”
He had a point—but I still stomped along the muddy path, fuming, until we found the cabin that matched the number on our key.
Shayde unlocked the wooden door and stepped inside. The scent of forest pine and spice hit me the moment I crossed the threshold. He found an oil lamp near the entrance and lit it, casting a soft glow over the room, adding to the fading daylight streaming through the windows.
And revealing there was only one bed.
We stood across the room from each other, both staring at it in silence.
I spoke first. “There’s an armchair for you,” I said, nodding toward the corner.
Shayde arched a brow, incredulous, and slid his satchel off his shoulder. “I think not. That bed’s wide enough for both of us. Without touching.”
My cheeks burned—from frustration. Mostly.
“Last night was a special circumstance. We’re in a cabin now. With a fireplace. And blankets. We are not sharing that bed.”
He didn’t reply—just started unstrapping his weapons with casual defiance, then crossed the room toward the only other door, likely the washroom.
“If we aren’t sharing that bed,” he said, pausing as he reached the door, “then it’s mine. Technically, I beat you yesterday. You can sleep in the fireplace for all I care.”
My fingers curled into fists at my sides. My mind immediately went to our duel back in the Hollow. “You beat me at what?”
He glanced over his shoulder, the corner of his mouth twitching. “The race to the sewer grate.”
Then he shut the door behind him.
While Shayde washed up, I built the fire with something bordering on vengeance. Once the hearth blazed with heat, I slumped into the armchair—refusing to soil the clean bed with my leathers. My legs draped over one armrest as I ran my fingers through my tangled hair, barely noticing the way one foot bounced restlessly.
The soft creak of the washroom door broke the quiet, followed by a wave of steam rolling into the room. Shayde stepped out…
Shirtless.
Droplets of water clung to his golden-tan skin, catching the firelight. His damp hair hung over his brow in a tousled mess. And then there was the V of his lower abdomen, carved and annoyingly perfect, leading to the dangerously low waistband of his thin lounge pants.
My gaze dipped before I could stop it. I snapped out of it with a jolt.
Scowling, I sprang from the chair and stormed past him toward the washroom. “’Bout damn time. You better have left some hot water.”
The knob squeaked as I turned the shower back on. I tried to hide my sigh as I ran my fingers under the hot stream. Undressing quickly, I stepped into the shower and dove straight into the complimentary soaps and oils. The heat melted the tension frommy shoulders, easing the nerves coiled tight inside me about tomorrow night.
This drop had to be worth it. We couldn’t return to the Hollow empty-handed—not after the scene I’d made with Father just to get on this mission. So far, luck had been on our side, but tomorrow? Tomorrow we’d walk straight into a castle, disguised, blending in with the very people who’d rather see us dead. The risk was higher than I wanted to admit… yet deep down, a part of me knew I was exactly where I was meant to be.
I let the hot water pound against my skin. I sighed, “This is so worth ten sil—”
The water went ice cold.
I gasped and fumbled for the knob, frantically shutting off the spray as soap suds ran into my eyes—an irritating reminder I hadn’t even rinsed out my hair yet.
That fucker used up all the hot water.
I towel-dried in record time, fury simmering beneath my skin, and threw the washroom door open ready to unleash it—
Only to stop short.
Shayde was in bed. Upright. Shirtless. Leaning against the headboard with one hand splayed casually across his chest, the other resting on the mound of pillows he’d apparently built to separate our sides of the bed. He looked at me lazily, eyeing my soapy hair.
