“I just need the one day,” I decided. Merelda would understand. She would encourage it, really.
Harthon answered by tugging me closer, and I fell into a dreamless sleep.
Chapter 14
Harthon left.
Sometime after I’d fallen asleep, he’d draped a blanket over me, left, and spent the night elsewhere.
I knew this because, when my eyes fluttered open and I realized I was alone, the sky was still dark. Given how early it was, it was very unlikely he’d woken up before me to start his day.
So Harthon hadn’t spent the night with me, and I wasn’t sure what to make of that. But what Ididknow was that it disappointed me.
Trying to ignore that sentiment, I rose. The healer was due to take my stitches out today. I’d been under strict orders not to train while they were in, but if they were coming out within a few hours…
I smiled.
As the sun rose in the murky sky, I was surprised how smoothly I performed my repetitions. Before the attack, my jabs, kicks, and evasions were edging toward competent. Today, they were proficient. I’d been afraid the injuries would cause a setback, but maybe the forced break actually rid me of bad habits.
Feeling confident, I wiped the sweat from my forehead and went for a spinning kick—a fairly new maneuver—just as thedoor opened. Caught off guard, I overspun and lost my balance, catching myself at the last second.
Of course, after all those flawless repetitions I’d just done,thiswas what Harthon saw.
He opened his mouth, probably to critique, but I beat him to it. “You startled me.”
“If I startled you, what would an attacker have done?” he asked dryly.
“Kindly knocked on my door like apoliteperson,” I shot back.
He closed the door behind him. “I heard movement. I knew it was fine if I entered.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Whatisthe point, then?” He reached a chair and leaned on its back, the muscles of his arms bulging beneath his tunic.
“It’s impolite.”
“I don’t care about being polite.”
For Domus’ sake. “What if I’d been naked?”
I realized my mistake as his mouth twitched—the very mouth that’d suckled and nipped and kissed me into a puddle last night. A completely unhelpful tingle started where his fingers had played.
“I still don’t see the problem,” he drawled.
AndI’d just lost this battle. Rather than admit defeat, I slunk away to my water cup.
When I finished drinking, his smile was gone. “I came here to explain—”
Why you left this morning?
“—about Jonathan.”
Right.
Because now, in the light of day and with the clarity of sleep, logic reigned again. Regardless of what Harthon had done to melast night, he’d also tortured and killed a man, citing a crime he did not commit while leaving me in the dark.
He circled his chair and sat, looking far too rested and put together for someone who’d switched beds in the middle of the night.
