The mattress sinks as he climbs in beside me and I note that even his long body is dwarfed by the sheer magnitude of the bed. He circles his arms around me and tucks me into his bare chest, his skin an ember that warms the ice in bones and lights the emptiness.
Shaw holds me until I’m finally claimed by a fitful sleep. And then after—when dreams of Easton and tidal waves of blood crashing across the red square leave me gasping into the darkness.
ChapterTwenty-Nine
Mirren
The sun is high when I finally wake. Shaw is tangled around me, solid and warm. Turning my head, I realize with no small amount of surprise that he’s still asleep. His caramel skin is tinged pink, and half his face is buried in the tangle of my hair.
It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him sleep. His limbs are loose, and his breaths come slowly and for a few moments, I just watch him. Lips lush and pouted, raven hair spilling across his forehead. The sooty sweep of his lashes against his cheekbones, longer even than mine, breaks something open within me and I turn away abruptly.
I told myself I would decide what to do about Shaw today; that I would weigh his betrayal and his sacrifice and decide which matters more. But first, I desperately need a bath. Blood crusts my skin and dress, the iron tang of it nearly overwhelming.
I extricate myself carefully from his arms. He grips the pillow tighter, aware of my absence even through layers of sleep. Padding into the adjoining bathing suite, I pull off what remains of my dress. It settles around my feet in a pool of silky filth. I fill the giant iron tub and sink all the way to my neck with a pleasured sigh. The water is invigorating. It cleanses my skin, but also quenches the ache in my soul.
I scrub at my hair with scented soap before submerging myself completely, feeling weightless and renewed. I stay in the bath until the pads of my fingers prune. Droplets roll off my skin and I watch them intently, wondering at the power that crested inside me last night. It was all encompassing and foreign, but it was more than that—it was like coming home. Like the curve of Easton’s shy smile or the ring of Shaw’s laughter. Something that is a part of me. Something thatmakesme.
People don’tusemagic, Lemming.
I didn’t understand what Shaw meant at the time, but it’s clear now. I didn’t use magic last night. I allowed it room to bloom and in turn, it opened up the best and worst parts of myself. The most dangerous parts. The most powerful. It is symbiotic, the power and myself, only capable of growing to our potential when we are intertwined.
Last night, it retreated from me like a wave from a beach, but this morning its presence trickles through me once more. It no longer rages, but laps gently at the corners of my mind. Something that has always been there, but that only now can I name.
I trail my fingers across my calf where the assassin’s blade ran me through, hope blazing brightly in my chest. There is no sign of injury, not even the pucker of a scar.
The way you healed Anrai Shaw.
The old woman’s words come back to me suddenly and I sit straight up, the water sloshing over the sides of the tub. If I really am responsible for healing Shaw’s injuries, for healing my wound, then Easton—Easton might not need my father at all. I can save him myself. I resolve to find Aggie today and find out everything she knows.
I step out of the tub and wrap a soft robe around myself, tying the fabric securely around my waist. Shaw still lies sprawled across the bed, but his light eyes track me the moment I enter the room. I ignore the muscled expanse of his chest, carved and beautiful, and grab my dagger from where he laid it on the nightstand. I thought the bright sting of betrayal faded with his actions last night, but now it climbs up my throat once more.
Shaw doesn’t even flinch as my blade whistles past him, grazing his cheek and sticking into the headboard with athump.His hair is mussed, and his skin is flushed with sleep. That impenetrable mask of his has fallen away and his face is wide open. The anguish, regret, and something like wonder, all written plainly for me to see.
I fling myself on the bed, yanking my dagger from where it protrudes next to his head. He makes no move to stop me as I shove it roughly against his throat. Even sitting, he is so much taller than me that I have to stretch to reach, the thin material of the robe doing little to cushion the way his hard body presses against mine.
His eyes widen, but he doesn’t move; only watches me, still as a mountain cat. But he is the predator no longer. If power and strength are Shaw’s language, I will speak it clearly until there is no room for misunderstanding.
“Why?”
I don’t even know what I’m asking. Why did he have to choose me? Why didn’t he tell me the whole truth? Why can’t I simply hate him and use him and then be done with him?
“I was ashamed,” he murmurs slowly, so as not to brush against the dagger.
My gaze flicks to his in surprise. “You told me you will not feel ashamed for what you do to survive,” but even as I say the words, I know they aren’t true. Not with the way Shaw’s very body rejects violence; how he sacrifices every piece of it whenever needed; the way he spoke of the things he was forced to do as a child and the things he’s been forced to do since; shame thrives in Shaw, a poisonous vine that weaves through everything he does.
“You—you look at me like I’m worth something. I was afraid if you saw who I really am, you would never look at me like that again. I was a coward.”
“Be brave now, Anrai Shaw.”
He swallows roughly against the shining blade. “When Denver was taken, I—I was beside myself. I searched everywhere, but it was like he’d vanished completely. I…well, I’m not proud of who I became. It was like Denver was the one who tethered me to being this person with a soul and when he was gone, I became desperate to get him back. I drove myself crazy trying to find a lead. I interrogated every Dark World scumbag I could find, and everything came up empty. I came back to Nadjaa angry and defeated. And that’s when Aggie made her prophecy.”
“She’s always known things, has always said the earth tells her, but I never really took it seriously. This was different. Her voice changed and it was like something else spoke out of her.”
I shiver, having witnessed this exact behavior.
“Destroy her. She who captures the sea in her eyes, bound without hate or love. Destroy her and the lost shall be found.It was obvious that whoever she spoke of was Similian. Everyone knows Similians are quiet, and love is against their laws. I was so terrified of never seeing Denver again that I traveled to the Similian border. I blew up the Boundary. And before you came running out and I saw your eyes…well, I was going to go in and cut through whoever I needed to in order to find you.”
“How did you breach the Boundary when no one else has been able to?” I ask, a question that’s plagued me since before I knew the hole was a result of Shaw’s actions.
