Does he already have a plan? He is usually ten moves ahead of everyone in this game of Shadow Kingdoms.
Why do I feel, however, that it hurt him that Aurelius played him?
I narrow my eyes. “Help me search for a weapon.”
Daire appears offended. “You’re looking at it, love. Did you miss the part about me being an assassin?”
“Maybe don’t remind me of that when I’m in a stabby mood.”
“Stabby, aye? Promise?” He tilts his head, assessing me admiringly. “You’re naked.”
“Is that a complaint?” I toss the fluffy towels onto the floor, ducking down to tap on the bottom of the shelves.
You’d be surprised how many people hide their best treasures, talismans, or artifacts in hidden compartments in public areas.
They don’t expect people like me to come along and find them.
Their loss is my Omega gain.
“An observation,” Daire replies. “I love your beautiful curves, fiery hair, and eyes like the forests, Spark. I bloody love everything about you.” I blush. “But I’m still wondering, talented thief as you are, where you’re going to hide this mysterious escape kit that you intend to magic up.”
“Details.” My hand closes around something metal. “Ah ha!” I smirk in triumph, before straightening and waving the blade with an ivory handle, which I’ve found. “Look at this. It’s sharp, metal, and hooked.”
Daire chuckles. “That’s for scraping off the oil in the bath. I suppose that we could clean the Bloods to death, aye?”
My smile fades. “It could still be useful. I kicked the asses of the students in the military academy with soap.”
“And now I’m even more turned on. Still, if you want to smuggle that with you, then we’ll have to be bloody creative with where we hide it.” He waggles his eyebrows. “At least it’s curved…”
I shudder, dropping the scraper with a clatter to the floor. “We’ll think of something else.”
Daire struggles to hold out his hand to me, which I can tell by the strain around his mouth is hurting him. “How about you bring over the rose oil? It reminds me of your delicious scent, summer roses in full bloom, along with sweet berries and sunshine. I could live never smelling anything but that scent again. I’ll massage the stiffness out of your arms. They must still be sore from being chained.”
He doesn’t say thathisarmsare sore. But he never admits to pain.
My gaze is drawn to the hundreds of scars that wind around him like ivy. He suffered them in battle, after he first took to the battlefield at aged thirteen to rally his child army of survivors from the genocide in the First Fae War.
He bled for his people, suffered and watched them die, and finally, fell for them.
He has already felt more pain in his life than most people ever will.
What is pain to him?
Earlier, Daire whispered to me thatpain can be survived. The important thing is to be alive. Everything can be survived, as long as you’re bloody alive, aye?
Instinctively, I drop my fingers to trace over my snowflake bond mark.
Daire hisses in a sharp breath, feeling my touch through our soulmate connection.
I smile, raising the mark to my lips. I kiss it slowly.
Daire’s long, thick eyelashes flutter.
Yet I can feel him through the bond; the pain and fear, which he is trying to shield from me.
I hurriedly snatch up a clay pot of rose oil and rush to the edge of the baths. I drop to sit on the side, swinging my bare legs to be swallowed by the warm water.
I place the pot down and grab Daire’s hand.
