Page 25 of The Crowned Queen

Jaxon clicked his tongue. “Three days. I made the decision to keep you sedated after the little stunt you pulled.” He leaned forward, his sleeve riding up as he set his book on the nightstand. “I couldn’t have you damaging yourself while everything was so fresh.”

“What is that?” Araya whispered.

“This?” Jaxon rolled up his sleeve, baring the mark she’d caught a glimpse of. “Ly’sura. I believe the direct translation in Valenya is claim life. It’s the companion to your sor’vael. It’s what allows me to command you. And of course, I had Kai add a tracking rune to it.” He smiled. “Can’t have you running away again.”

Araya stared at him, her heart pounding against the cage of her ribs. “You didn’t,” she whispered.

He could open that door right now and let her walk out, and she still wouldn’t be free. He’d feel every flicker of her magic, every beat of her heart. He’d always know where she was. And if she ever dared to fight him again—her own power would turn on her, burning her alive from the inside out.

She’d never escape him.

“You’ll get used to the idea, Starling.” He stood, putting his book aside. “Now, let’s check on those runes—have to make sure they’re healing cleanly.”

He didn’t wait for her answer, tugging the blankets off her before she could protest. She crossed her arms across her chest, doing her best to shield her body—but he just laughed.

“Don’t be shy, Starling.” His fingers closed around her wrist, prying her arms open. “I’ve already seen every inch of you.”

Her cheeks burned, but she couldn’t fight him. The fresh runes still throbbed faintly, stinging as Jaxon traced one with a fingertip.

“Good,” he said softly. “No infection. You’ve always healed so quickly.” The back of his hand brushed her breast, lingering just long enough to make her stomach twist. “You can even bathe, if you’d like.”

“And if I don’t want to?” Araya snatched the blanket back up to cover herself. “Will you just force me?”

“If you make me.” Jaxon raised his eyebrows. “I don’t like causing you pain, Starling. But if you want to do this the hard way…” he trailed off, letting the offer linger.

Araya didn’t fight him as he guided her into the bathing chamber, settling her on the stool while he filled the tub. Steam curled from the surface of the water, fogging the mirrors and turning everything hazy.

“I can do it myself,” she said when he reached for her again, but her voice was small. “You don’t have to⁠—”

“I want to.” He lifted her easily, his hands steady as he lowered her into the tub.

She gasped at the bite of heat against her raw skin, but he didn’t stop—just kept lowering her until she was submerged, water lapping at her collarbones.

Jaxon rolled his sleeves up and knelt beside the tub, washing her in silence. The cloth moved over her shoulders, down her arms, tracing every curve with meticulous precision.

Jaxon always did take great care with his possessions.

Araya closed her eyes as his fingers combed through her hair, working vanilla-scented soap into a rich lather. The world blurred at the edges, her mind slipping away to where she couldn’t feel his touch or the burn beneath her skin.

“There now,” he murmured, rinsing the suds away with a handful of warm water. “Doesn’t that feel better?”

Araya didn’t answer, her mind somewhere far away. She didn’t resist when he helped her out of the tub, making no effort to fight the towel or the clean shift he eased over her head. She was too weak. Too tired. She couldn’t fight. Not right now.

“You’ve lost weight,” he said, running a hand down her side. “Didn’t they feed you on Eluneth?”

“They were living behind an Arcanum blockade,” Araya rasped. “No one had enough to eat.”

Jaxon snorted. “Another good reason to be on this side of things.”

He took her arm and guided her back into the bedroom. A tray waited on the table beside the tea service, but Belanis hadn’t lingered. Jaxon settled Araya into the chair and served her himself, lifting the cover to reveal a bowl of clear broth and half a loaf of plain bread.

“Something easy on your stomach,” he said, nudging her spoon toward her. “Just while you recover. I promise, we’ll put some meat back on your bones after that.”

The broth was thin, little more than salted water and herbs, but Araya forced herself to eat, swallowing spoonful after spoonful under his watchful eye. He talked while she ate, his voice warm and easy as he painted a picture of the future they’d rebuild together now that she understood her place in things.

His words blended together, each sentence folding into the next until it was nothing but noise, water lapping against the shore of her mind. The world around her faded, her existence narrowing to the simple task in front of her.

Lift the spoon. Swallow. Breathe. Survive.