Page 45 of Where We Belong

“Not that I mind, Princess, but are you here just to look at me, or is there something you need?” I want to slap the smugness right off his beautiful face, but by the time I’ve gathered the fragmented pieces of my speech together, he’s already walked inside. I storm after him, doing my best to keep up with his long strides.

“You kissed me and didn’t tell me.”

“Yes.”

He walks to a wooden wardrobe in the corner, rummages through it, pulls out some folded clothes, and places them into my hands.

“You had so many chances but didn’t. The bond is half in place. Me and you. Forever. Don’t you think I had a right to know?”

“Yes.” He heads toward another room, and I follow like a furious, frustrated shadow.

“So, why didn’t you tell me!”

“I should have. I agree with everything you’re saying. You came to fight but there is no fight here.”

He stops to look at me, his voice gentle. “Would I do it again to save you? Yes. Was I trying to reach you, to kiss you the entire time we were in those cells, in the hope that it would help you to escape? Also, yes.”

He turns a golden tap embedded in a dark rock formation that looks like a shower. Water flows down like a miniature waterfall. I look around, suddenly realising we’re in his bathroom.

“I am sorry, Ashley, I am. But I simply wasn’t going to let you die after everything you went through. Everything I did to you. I had to undo it.”

“So that I could die anyway to free your people.” I spit.

“So that your precious life would not end in a dirty cell. So that you could live and we could free our people together, Princess. If you so choose.”

He crouches by a drawer built into the charcoal wall, pulling out soaps, oils, and a bristled brush. The same angry choppy lines trail down his broad back, weaving through the faint dark wisps of his smokey wings.

“I wanted to tell you, but it happened under Nyk’s watch, on a mission that was not sanctioned by the King. So, I have left the responsibility to him for the good of peace in this land.”

He pulls the clothes from my hands and places them on top of the drawers, then he — what is he doing? My pulse stumbles as he takes a step towards me, then another and another. I retreat until I can feel the spray of water misting against my back. The hard lines of his face melt and he slowly raises a hand, first showing me his empty palm before placing it gently on the back of my neck. Heat radiates from his touch. My breath catches when he looks into my eyes for one endless heartbeat. Letting me know I can trust him. That he’s in control. That I’m in control. The world tips when he coaxes my head back, guiding my hair into the stream of water. I clutch onto his forearm, steadying myself. Warm water cascades over the tangled mess. There’s a faint snap of my hairband breaking, discarded somewhere behind me. My eyes flutter closed, and tension in my shoulders melts away while his fingers work gradually and softly through my hair, massaging something citrusy into the matted ponytail. Foam crackles in my ears, his fingers gliding, untangling knots and smoothing strands. My boots feel heavy and awkward. They thud against the granite floor when I toe them off. Every trace of anger, frustration and the words I clung to earlier, dissolve with the water running down my face and soaking my clothes. There’s something so soothing about the steady pull of his fingers, as if he’s starting to wash away the damage he’s done. I realise in this moment that the anger that’s melting has always been there, lodged in the crevices of my heart. I’ve just pushed it down, denied it. Blamed everything and everyone else for who I became, but that’s no way to live. The tatters of my top are ripped away, and with nothing but a tap, my fraying bra loosens.

Almost reverently, he peels my leggings and underwear off, and I don’t feel exposed or aroused, just taken care of. After lathering a bristled brush, he scrubs my neck, my back, my arms, and shoulders. He uses a cloth to wipe away the grime from my ears, and as he kneels and scrubs my lower body, my mind is still. Quiet. There are no voices, no anger, no judgments. Only his hands as they cleanse me and make me feel whole in a way I haven’t been since I was a kid. He tends to my feet and clips my nails as I hold onto his shoulders. After brushing my teeth, he holds out his hand for me to spit and rinses it off in the shower water. Soaking wet, he wraps a giant towel around my shoulders and a smaller one around my hair. A soft smile tugs at his mouth as he catches my chin gently between his thumb and forefinger, lingering there for a heartbeat. Our eyes meet and something tender is in the air. It’s fragile. And I like it. He leaves me alone in the beautiful silence. After scrunching my hair in the towel, I use the oils he left out to moisturise my skin. The black clothes are far too big for me, but I tie the waist of the tunic at the back and roll the trousers up a few times before stepping out of the bathroom.

Standing barefoot and unsure where to put myself, I watch him move around in his kitchen and to my dismay, he’s put a top on. Finally, with a flick of his hand, bowls and cutlery drift onto a small table in the corner as a chair scrapes backwards across the warm stone floor. I guess I should sit. He thumps down across from me and hunches over his bowl, his strong jaw flexing as his eyes flick up to meet mine.

“Eat.”

A spoon floats into the air and taps me lightly on my nose. I go to grab it, but it darts out of the way, a giggle betrays me and I go for it again, suddenly realising how I haven’t really seen him eat that often. He finishes it almost mechanically, as if it’s simply maintenance before apologising profusely a few more times. And, though I hear the heart behind his explanation, forgiveness hasn’t settled in mine yet. Our empty bowls glide over to the sink and just like that, he’s someone else again. He straps armor to his body and the clang of buckles echo across the room. “Take the morning off, see you at dinner?”

“Sure,” I say as we make our way out. “Thank you, Kaed.”

He gives me a ferociously cute, dimpled smile and breaks into a jog, barking orders to soldiers as they fall into formation behind him. Left alone in the warm breeze, I stroll back to my bungalow. My steps almost drag, tiredness sinking deep into my bones. As if the heaviness that’s been lifted off my shoulders took so much effort that the life has been drained from me. The hot air weaves gently through my loose clothes, the sensation strange but soothing against my raw skin. Goosepimples shoot down my back. When I reach my room, I pull back the soft duvet and slip inside. The tender mattress and soft pillow practically swallow me whole. With the cuff of the tunic against my nose, I breathe in the sweet, sweet scent of Kaed. Who knows what any of this means yet, what it says about us. But, for the first time in years, I fall asleep without drugs, tears or nightmares.

Chapter 43

Aiden

Parts of my soul were still battered and bruised,

unhealed from betrayal and woes,

The King announces that we will be hosting our cousins bonding ceremony next week. All territory leaders will be in attendance. Except Cinder, of course. What could go wrong? While he, Nykholas, and Kaed discuss security measures and seating plans, Rhory enters the dining room arm in arm with Agni. My eyes widen. Her clothes are clean, but far too big for her. Everyone stands, even me, as they approach the table. Her green eyes dart nervously around the room, and it is impossible not to notice how much she resembles me beneath her grime free appearance. Especially with her dark, curly, unbound hair and sandy skin. We could be twins.

My uncle’s chair screeches as he stands, and I rub my ear against my shoulder. His eyes flick over her clothing, and he pulls out the two chairs between himself and I. I swallow the urge to frown. Just like Kaed, who sits across from me, eyebrows pulled down, eyes zipping between the pair. I wonder if he will be a better male than I was, or if Cook should count his days. I would miss him. The King rests a hand on her arm and goes utterly still. The air in the room ripples like the current above. Mind magic. Nykholas and Kaed both shoot subtle glances at each other. Agni, however, remains oblivious and self-absorbed as usual, smiling a little as the servers fetch their plates.

“I am so happy you have joined us, Ashley. And, of course, you, Rhory. It makes my heart glad that Aiden’s partner in crime will still grace us with his presence, even during his time off,” the King says warmly, finally removing his hand from her arm. I wince at the phrase but Cook grins widely.

“My pleasure, Your Majesty. This is my home thanks to you, and you have taken good care of my family, so I’m more than honoured to sit at your table.” He glances at Agni, pulling a face and piling food onto her plate.