With two full days having passed since we’d marched through Ilasall’s gates, the war was finally behind us.
Pushing off the windowsill, I scanned the sleek and polished apartment. It reeked opulence, from the expensive upholstery to the marble surfaces. Even the closets of the Match, which had occupied this space before us, contained silks of every shade imaginable. Not merely the white, gray, and black colors the commoners wore to better blend in with the surroundings and avoid accidentally catching the attention of soldiers on patrol.
I strode across the oak floor, my journey to the living room feeling like a hike. With every step, my three-fingered hand throbbed, my muscles screamed, and my bruises and areas of swelling ached.
Plodding toward the bathroom, I cursed the quantity of nerves in a human body. Every movement felt like another beating, another fist, another kick.
At least with the three cities overturned, we had access to meds. The pills for pain had become my salvation. If not for them, I would likely be bound to a bed.
What seemed like ages later, my trek reached its end. A cloud of warmth smashed into me, and the pitter-patter of a spray welcomed me as I paused in the bathroom doorway.
Scrubbing himself free of the gore, Gedeon ran a blue cloth down his front. For the last eighteen hours, since Damia had invaded Ardaton, he’d been dealing with outbreaks of rogue soldiers and small riots of rebelling green-banded residents.
It’d taken both my threats and Zion’s declaration of celibacy after he’d sniffed Gedeon to persuade him to take a well-deserved shower and a nap. Damia could lead in Gedeon’s stead while he slumbered.
Especially when we’d already dispatched our most trusted teams back to Ilasall to seize control of the city. With it in ruin and its military reduced to ashes, the takeover had been easy.
Ardaton was a different case. We had no choice but to establish a command center here to support Damia. She’d occupied the city and rescued us in a bit of a rush, similar to how Dain and Nissa had seized Coriattus.
Leaning against the sink inlaid in a natural stone countertop, Zion rubbed his bottom lip, utterly immersed in the show—Gedeon taking a shower.
“What are you doing?” I asked Zion.
He gestured at Gedeon lathering up his hair. “Watching him.”
Stuck in the doorway, I wiggled my toes. The intricate pattern of emerald tiles had forged an invisible barrier—I’d stopped right before the threshold. Years of living in poor conditions had ingrained the aversion to luxury deep in me.
“Does it hurt?” Zion frowned at the discoloration marring my skin. The pair of dusty pink silk shorts and a matching top I’d found in the closet couldn’t hide much.
Or assuage the discomfort of wearing something so extravagant.
“It’s okay.” Manageable. I wouldn’t dare demand more pain meds when countless injured needed them incomparably more than me. I could breathe and eat, and that was enough for me.The sight of crooked limbs, gaping holes in torsos, shattered jaws, and poked-out eyes had been sufficient for me to refuse the bottle of extra pills I’d been offered.
Forcing myself to lift my right leg, I entered the bathroom. The chill from the tiles seeped into my soles, and I imagined the cold forming pillars of support to hold me up. “Gedeon does know you’re leering at him, right?”
“Yup.” A grin contorted the stitched-up slice in Zion’s cheek. “He tried to kick me out, but I reminded him that the only thing he can get rid of is my clothing.”
I stifled my snort. As if Zion was dressed to begin with. With his arm destroyed, he’d decided to forgo any shirts, wearing one pair of sweatpants after another. Not that I was complaining. “And he said nothing to that?”
“Something about a public lesson to be taught, to which I obviously agreed. He hasn’t decided on the date, though.” Zion scratched a patch of sandy skin peeking out between the bars of his plastic arm cast.
Gedeon had convinced our own doc to make the trip to Ardaton so he could personally fix Zion’s limb. As one could have predicted, Zion had sneaked out the moment he’d woken up, too impatient to roll in bed until the doc cleared him.
Now, the bastard wouldn’t stop boasting about how he had metal rods and plates embedded in him. Apparently, his arm had beenimproved.
I leaned against the counter beside him. “What’s your favorite part?”
The clear glass doors obscured nothing as Gedeon stood under the wide showerhead. Rain caressed his black waves, plastering the locks to his temples and forehead, softening his harsh angles. The droplets trickled down his front, exploring the dips of his abdomen, catching on the raised scars, following the faint trail of hair leading to?—
“His ass,” Zion interrupted my perusal.
I shifted, making myself more comfortable. Which was impossible with how sore I was. “I thought you said that about mine.”
Zion shrugged, grimacing as the move tested his newly fixed bones. “I like butts.” Nudging me with his foot, he prodded, “What’s yours?
I couldn’t put out my flush. “His back.” Something about the contours of Gedeon’s defined muscles made my belly clench every time.
Had there been a few occasions when I’daccidentallystumbled upon him in the training rings during his morning workouts?
