Her bare knees.
Her head snapped up. “I don’t have pants on.”
His eyes dipped as if he needed to confirm it for himself. Yet another emotion sparked in his eyes. He felt too many things for her to keep track of. Emotions were messy and confusing.
His voice was rough when he said, “You are correct, but in all fairness, you prefer not to wear pants.”
“My dresses generally reach the floor,” she argued.
He arched his brows. “And the slits up the sides reach your thighs, which I am not complaining about, by the way.”
She didn’t have time to discuss this. “Where is the bathing room?”
He gestured to the right, and she followed the motion to a doorway, immediately making her way there. She stayed close to the bed, using it as support as long as she could, and Cethin, annoyingly, stayed close to her.
“Niara is going to be pissed, and she’s already upset with me,” Cethin muttered.
“Yes, well, it’s either this, or I piss all over the floor,” she snapped in irritation.
He huffed a surprised breath of laughter. “Fair enough, tiny fiend.”
Finally making it to the bathing room, she shut the door in his face. After she’d taken care of her needs, she sat on the edge of the large bathtub to catch her breath while debating getting into the thing. A hot bath sounded divine, but she could hear Cethin pacing on the other side of the door. More than that, she wasn’t entirely sure how the knobs and faucet worked. She’d just gotten used to the castle tubs, and these were different.
Sighing, she pushed back to her feet and shuffled to the door, pulling it open. Sure enough, Cethin was there, waiting for her. Instead of going back to the bed, she made her way to a window, taking in the view. Judging by the sun, it was after high-noon. It looked warm out, but she’d spent the last few days in that forest. She knew how deceiving the view was.
“Did I win?” she asked, bringing her hand up and pressing her fingertips to the glass. It was cool, confirming her theory about the temperature outside.
“Win what?” Cethin asked.
She looked over her shoulder. “The hunt.”
His eyes widened, a disbelieving laugh sounding. “The hunt became the least of our worries.”
“Injuries don’t end a competition.”
“They don’t…” He eyed her, grimacing a little as he shifted and pressed a hand to his side.
“What’s wrong with you?” she asked, turning to face him, wincing herself when the wound on her stomach pulled.
“Can you please sit?” Cethin asked.
She should have argued, but she also desperately needed to sit down. So she made her way back to the bed, and Cethin propped up pillows so she could rest against the headboard. Once she was settled, she said, “Did you injure yourself on the hunt?”
He sent her an unimpressed look from the armchair he’d sat in that was right beside the bed. “No, Kailia. I did not injure myself. What do you remember of that day?”
“I was tracking a stag while you all went off to do the gods know what,” she replied simply, hands flat in her lap. But she flexed her fingers in the soft fur that he’d spread back over her.
“You mean you went off by yourself,” he said accusingly.
She stared at him. “Eight people cannot hunt a stag together. It’s impossible. You are all very loud. It’s amazing you’re able to harvest anything.”
“That’s not the point.”
“You are upset I went hunting without you?”
“No, I—” He pushed out a harsh breath, swiping a hand down his face. “You don’t know the forest, Kailia. You went off by yourself, and you were attacked.”
“Yes, I know that, but that doesn’t explain how you injured yourself.”
