Page 196 of Of Masks and Fury

“That’s our court.” Bitterness leaked through despite my best efforts. “That’s what Father presides over. We assume the controllers are responsible for it all, maybe from the start three hundred years ago, but Father isn’t doing anything to stop it.”

“Do you think he knows?”

I shrugged. There was no denying he was a horrible father, that he was almost feral in his need to eradicate anyone with magic, but would he sanction something like this?

It happened inside his castle, so he must.

But even if he knew, he was hiding behind guards at all times. Maybe he hadn’t been to the dungeon in years.

I sat beside her on the bed, putting my arm around her back, holding her close. I couldn’t believe she was here, that I was finally with her. Alive, if ill.

She opened her mouth, then closed it, pain flickering across her features. The memory ward may still hold onto some things. I wasn’t sure I’d broken through it all.

“I have to find Fenmark.” Her voice cracked on his name.

“We’ll put together a rescue plan tomorrow.” I pulled her into a hug, hating how fragile she’d become. “Tonight, you rest.”

She clung to me, her face buried in my shoulder. When she pulled back, tears shimmered in her eyes. “I’m glad you found someone who loves you as much as I do.”

The words settled warm in my chest, pushing back some of the horror and fear. “We’ll find Fenmark. We’ll save him.”

“Thank you.”

I made sure she had everything she needed. When I finally left, she was asleep in her bed. Closing the door softly behind me, I found Trew waiting in the hallway.

We took the room across from my sister. It had a balcony overlooking an overgrown garden. I walked to the doors and opened them, stepping outside, needing air and space to think.

A garden spread below, bathed in night. Flowers bloomed despite the wasteland pressing against the wards, their petals luminous in the darkness. Beyond the sanctuary’s borders, I could see the faint shimmer of corruption, a reminder of what surrounded this small pocket of safety.

When I stepped back inside, Trew had already started filling the bath. Steam rose from the large tub in the adjacent room, carrying a floral scent. He’d stripped to the waist, and subtle stains had bled through the bandages.

I crossed to him without speaking and began unwrapping them. He stood still, letting me work, though I felt tension radiating through every muscle.

The wounds looked better than they had, no longer angry and inflamed, the edges beginning to knit together. But they were a brutal reminder of how close I’d come to losing him.

“I’m fine,” he said quietly.

“Not yet, but you will be.” I pressed my palm gently beside the worst gash. “I hate seeing you hurt.”

His hand came up to cover mine. “The feeling is painfully mutual.”

He helped me undress, each piece of clothing removed slowly, carefully. My leather tunic and pants, then the soft under-layers until I stood bare in front of him. His eyes tracked over me with desire and something deeper, as if he was memorizing, confirming, and claiming every bit of what was his to protect.

When his fingers found the whip scars on my back, three raised lines that would never fully fade, his touch went featherlight. He said nothing, but I felt the growl working up his throat.

We sank into the bath together, the mineral-rich water soothing aches I’d been carrying for days. Trew positioned himself behind me, pulling me back against his chest with my head resting in the hollow of his shoulder.

His hands came up to my hair, working through the tangles with patient fingers before he lathered herbal soap. When he began washing my hair, massaging my scalp in slow circles, I moaned, the sound echoing in the small room.

“Better?” His voice rumbled against my back.

“Much.”

I let myself relax into him, trusting him to hold me up, to keep me safe. His hands moved through my hair, working the soap through before carefully rinsing it clean.

When he finished, I shifted to face him, kneeling between his legs. Water sluiced off my skin as I reached for the cloth and soap, beginning to wash the blood from his wounds with gentle strokes.

Each healing mark received a kiss. The claw gouges across his abdomen, the puncture wounds in his shoulder, and the smaller cuts and bruises scattered across his skin.