Her eyes had fallen closed as the relaxing scents wafted around her. If it weren’t for the ache in her stomach, she’d sit in here for hours. But she’d become accustomed to regular meals since coming here. Hunger used to be something she could easily ignore, but not when eating properly replaced the habit of eating once every other day.
The sound of the door and heavy footsteps had her opening her eyes and staring at the doorway. Razik usually called out for her, only venturing back to the bedchamber if she didn’t answer, but these footfalls were getting nearer. Sure enough, Cethin came through the door, and it took him far longer than it should have for him to notice her in the tub. His head was down, hand running through his hair before he pulled his tunic over his head.
When he turned to presumably start the water for a bath, he came to an abrupt halt at seeing her in the tub. He blinked several times, eyes scanning the receding bubbles before he finally managed to drag his gaze to her face. He looked…tired. Exhausted.
Her head canted to the side a little as she said, “You didn’t sleep.”
He swallowed thickly, and she remembered the feel of that action beneath her fingers. Would it feel different outside her dreams?
“Sleep is often a luxury,” he replied, his voice husky and gruff.
“You’re the king,” she said simply.
“I don’t know why everyone seems to think I need reminding of that lately,” he grumbled petulantly, turning to a sink to rinse his mouth and clean his teeth.
When he did so, she saw the dried blood on his arm, and her eyes narrowed. “Did someone else stab you?”
“What?” he asked, still focused on his tasks. She could swear there was a slight tremor in his hand. But then he seemed to realize what she was referring to, rubbing at the dried smear of red. His sigh was heavy. “No, Kailia. That is something reserved just for you.”
For whatever reason, the words made her feel something warm in her chest. She may not be adept at social interactions, but even she knew she didn’t want to examine the reason for that feeling too closely.
He turned off the sink faucet, using a hand towel to wipe his mouth as he turned back to her. Leaning against the sink counter and bracing his hands behind him, he said, “I apologize for bursting in on you. I didn’t think you’d still be here at this time.”
“I believe I’ve been in the bath longer than I thought,” she replied. “I think I lost track of time.”
He hummed, still watching her.
“Where do you go?” she asked, swiping her fingers through the water. “When the rest of the kingdom sleeps,” she clarified.
“To my study,” he answered.
“Not every night,” she countered.
His brows arched, and his lips tilted up in that cocky grin. Or they tried to. He was clearly too exhausted to muster much. “Have you gone looking for me, tiny fiend?”
“At times,” she replied. “Only once have I found you there.”
“How often?”
She shrugged, the water rippling with the movement. “Enough to know that’s not where you go most nights.”
“And then?”
“Then what?” she asked in confusion.
“When you don’t find me, do you simply come back to bed and sleep?”
She shifted, maneuvering so she could rest her arms on the edge of the tub and face him more. His eyes never left her, and she rested her chin atop her arms when she said, “The first few times, I searched some, but when it became clear you did not wish to be found, yes. I returned to these rooms.”
Never mind the fact that if she could use her magic, that wouldn’t have been the case. She would have flitted through the castle until she’d found wherever he hid in the nights.
Cethin nodded, and even though he was looking at her, she could swear he wasn’t lookingather. As if he were seeing through her, too lost in his thoughts. Despite his obvious exhaustion, there was a buzz of energy around him. A charge of restlessness and something more she didn’t know how to place. His fingers flexed where they gripped the counter, and he kept pushing his other hand through his tangled hair. Hair that looked like he’d been doing that same action all night. He’d lost his shoes somewhere else, his bare feet crossed at the ankles.
“You should simply move your rooms to wherever you disappear to,” she said. “Seems as though it would be more convenient.”
Those words pulled him from whatever trance he was in, but instead of the arrogant retort she’d come to expect, he said, “I’ve thought about it, but it would raise too many questions. It wouldn’t matter anyway. The ghosts of our past haunt us no matter where we are.”
She lifted her head because there was a tortured agony she recognized in his tone. Never once in all of this had she expected the Avonleyan King to be a mirror of her own tortured soul, butthat was what this was. It was the first time she’d ever felt like he was showing her something real.
