13
Ipeel my armor off in front of the mirror in my bathing room. My arms are dotted with black bruises. So is my collarbone, the skin between my breasts, and all across my ribs and stomach. The only mercy is that he left my breasts alone, preferring instead to slam his knife around them. On top of the bruises are grazes from the pressure of the knife point.
Jordan prepared an ice bath for me and now I slide into it gingerly. The icy water stings and numbs at the same time. She also left me with a pitcher of water and about a thousand cups already filled along the wide edge of the bath.
“Hydrate while you bathe,” she’d ordered. “I want every one of those cups empty before you leave this room.”
I sip the first one, running my finger across the graze on the back of my hand. Such a small thing to make me drop my weapons, but they knew exactly where to aim. They’d planned it all in advance: how to disarm me, how to stop Jasper and Sebastian from helping Baelen, how to keep Baelen from getting to me. All while attacking me. Jordan had warned me not to underestimate my opponents, but I’d never expected them to fight without honor.
I stay in the bath far longer than I should, untying my hair to float around me and obscure the bruises, my eyelids eventually drooping, my battered body finally numb to the throbbing pain. I don’t want to get out. I don’t want the pain to return. I wonder how soon I can ask Jordan to prepare another ice bath?
Only a commotion outside the bathing room door startles me into action. Sharp conversation thrums through the wooden door. The sound of urgent voices slips into the bathing room, but nobody knocks.
I lever out of the bath and gulp the final mouthful of the water Jordan ordered me to drink, reaching for my robe. As I wrap it around me, leaving the tie loose because of my aching ribs, I lean up against the door, trying to find out what awaits me on the other side of it.
Elise sounds flustered. That’s twice today. Really not a good sign. “I know what I said, but I’m sure she didn’t mean right now…”
I grab the door handle and swing it wide. “Baelen.”
He straightens from a half-lean against a chair at the side of my bedroom, his focus zeroing in on me as soon as I appear. “You said to come as soon as I could. That’s now. I could. So I’m here.”
He frowns, his forehead crinkling, and it’s suddenly so adorable that I can’t help but smile. I press my lips together, trying to stop. “But you must be hurt. You have to go back—”
“No.”
I swallow. “Not even if I order you? For your own sake?”
“No.”
“Then at least let Elise take a look at you. Elise?”
She puts on her business face and doesn’t take any nonsense. He’s wearing a loose white shirt and blue pants buttoned at the waist. “Lift,” she orders, gesturing at his shirt.
I’m not prepared for the sight of his bare chest and stomach. He may as well be sculpted from male perfection, his wide, fully muscled shoulders tapering through his broad chest to his waist, every part of him radiating strength. It’s not the wounds that freeze me, but the memory of his chest against mine, of skin on skin, and… it’s never enough. A little bit of me breaks apart, knowing that I’ll never have that again. He’s broader now, bigger, tougher than he was then, and he carries scars he didn’t have before, and the sight of him makes my heart ache.
I find his eyes across the room. He hasn’t stopped focusing on me. Terrified that he’ll read my thoughts, I shake myself, concentrating on the present. At least the new wounds across his chest are minor.
Elise clicks her tongue. “That’s not too bad, I suppose.”
“It wasn’t all my blood,” he mutters.
“Turn.”
He plants his feet, shaking his head, stubbornly refusing, but she lifts her eyebrows. It’s just her and Jordan inside my room so it’s not like my entire Storm Command is watching.
“Please?” Elise asks.
Slowly, he swivels and lifts his shirt again. His back has been cleaned, but the wounds are gruesome. I grind my teeth. The other males had found all the gaps in his armor, stabbing and shredding over and over.
Jordan gasps. “Those cowards.”
Elise sighs. “Okay, sit and lean forward, please. The healers have done an adequate job but I can do better.”
For the next ten minutes, she works on his back while he rests his head in his hands, quietly accepting her help. She can’t spellcast his wounds because of the protective spells from the trials, but she’s deft with a needle. Somewhere in the middle, Jordan hands him a pack of ice for his face, which is showing up blue and yellow in places. By the time Elise has finished, I’ve found my way over to my bed, perching on the edge of it. My room is simply furnished with a large bed, a bedside table, and a small table and chairs on the far side, which is where Baelen sits now. Finally, his wounds are neatly stitched and patched to Elise’s satisfaction.
“Better,” she says.
Baelen raises his eyes up to her as if seeking permission to stand. I bury a smile. Elise has a way of commanding obedience but somehow manages to do it in a way that isn’t demeaning or offensive.
