“Keep her breathing,” I told the hag, in a rough, hoarse voice I hardly recognized myself.
The woman nodded, her expression pensive. Her eyes were unfocused, with her eyelids drooping, because what shefeltwas far more important now than what shesaw.
She said her name was Daria.
I made the effort to remember her name. If she brought my beloved butterfly back to me, I’d reward her with anything she wished for and everything that was in my power.
One by one, I removed the strands from Maren’s torso, then worked on her limbs—one arm, one leg at a time. I didn’t dare look up at her face again until every single evil pearl was finally gone from her body.
Color returned to her cheeks. Her eyelids fluttered to life.
I kneeled in front of her.
“Maren, sweetheart, open your eyes, please,” I begged.
Her lips stretched into a smile before her eyes even opened.
“You sound so sweet when you really want to... It’s so easy to forget how fiercely you can growl or how loud you can roar too,” she murmured with a long, body-shuddering breath.
Fuck.
Relief made me weak. My muscles gave up, sending me down on my ass. I bent my knees and rubbed my forehead before finding my voice again.
“Take her to our cabin,” I ordered.
Our, because I was coming with her too. There was not a chance in the Abyss that I’d let Maren out of my sight ever again from now on.
THE HAG TENDED TO MAREN’Scuts, of which there were many. Long and short, deep and shallow, every part of her body that hadn’t been covered by the pearls looked shredded by glass. Her sun-kissed skin was smeared with grime. And her entire body from her neck to her ankles was crisscrossed by purple welts left where the ropes of pearls had bitten into her skin and flesh.
She stood inside a large bowl placed on the floor in our cabin. Two servants cleaned her skin with damp cloths while Daria ran her magical hands over each scrape, cut, and wound, enticing whatever energy Maren had left in her body to heal her.
I sat on the floor far enough that even the servants’ swishing skirts couldn’t touch me. Yet the women kept tossing cautious glances at me while going about their work. I suspected it wasn’t just my curse that made them fear me. If even a fraction of the rage I was feeling inside had made it out to my face, my expression must be murderous.
I clenched my jaw, fisted my hands, then flexed my fingers open, as I imagined getting them on Jahanam’s slimy neck, hoping he had one. It’d squeeze every drop of his divine magicfrom the blob of mud that was his body. I’d rip every single eyeball from his foul flesh. I’d...
My chest throbbed with so much anger, I feared it’d explode in a burst of fire.
One of the servants lathered Maren’s hair with soap while the other lifted a large clay pitcher, ready to rinse the soap out of her hair.
“I’ll do it.” I jumped to my feet, making all three women scurry aside like a spooked school of fish.
I sauntered closer, moving slowly as if approaching a bevy of skittish doe in a Sarnala forest on a full moon night.
“Here. Give me the pitcher.” I extended my hand to the servant holding it.
Her violet eyes grew as wide as saucers. She clutched the pitcher to her chest as if it was her firstborn.
“I mean no harm.” I seethed with impatience but made the effort to gentle my voice. “Put it on the trunk and step away. You can have it back once I’m done with it. It’ll be a glass pitcher by then, but you’ll still have a pitcher.”
I plastered a smile on my face in an attempt to put the poor woman at ease.
“Yes, Your M-majesty,” she stuttered, placing the pitcher on the trunk, then scurrying out of my way.
I wrapped my fingers around the handle. The white clay immediately turned into clear glass. The women gasped. I shrugged. And Maren smiled.
Naked, bruised, and abused, she fucking smiled at me. A barely familiar warmth spread through me. I didn’t even bother to identify this feeling, fairly certain I couldn’t accurately name it anyway. I just knew I could no longer sit idle, stewing in my hatred, anger, and helplessness. I wanted to take care of her.
I wished I could wash and treat all her wounds myself. I wanted to wrap her in a warm blanket, then hold her in bedwhile she slept peacefully in my arms. I wanted to sing to her, to kiss her hair, and to whisper the sweetest things I could come up with into her ear while my breath caressed her neck and my kisses guided her to the land of the most magical dreams.
