use for his own means as a Prince of Atlantia. He’d been intrigued from the start because I wasn’t who he expected me to be, which apparently, was an immoral, spoiled supporter of the Ascended. He’d been kind and interested because he needed to discover all he could about me, and maybe because he was drawn to me. But what did that truly mean?
What happened in the woods may have proven that he was attracted to me, and that wasn’t a farce, but lust was not love, it was not loyalty, and it was not long lasting.
Neither as Hawke nor as Casteel had he claimed anything regarding us.
The reality was jarring, and it hurt. It sliced deep because he’d made me feel warm, but it was reality, and it had to be dealt with.
I mulled over the options in my head. Escape. Find my brother because I had to know if he was the same and then…what? Disappear? But first, I needed to figure out how to escape.
The wolven could track me, and he…
Escaping him would be nearly impossible.
But I had to try, and there had to be a way. Maybe when my head didn’t feel as if it were full of cobwebs, I would know what to do. Weary, I let my thoughts drift. I must’ve dozed off somehow, still curled up against the tub, because the next thing I heard was my name being called.
“Penellaphe.”
Jerking my head up, I blinked rapidly as Kieran’s face came into view. What the…?
“Good.” He was kneeling on the other side of the tub—the tub that I was completely naked in! “I was worried you were dead.”
“What?” I threw a hand over my chest and pressed my legs together as much as I possibly could. I didn’t even want to think about what he could see beneath the line of water. “What are you doing in here?”
“I called out your name, and you didn’t answer,” he replied, tone as flat as a board. “You’ve been in here for a while. I thought I should make sure you were alive.”
“Of course, I’m alive. Why wouldn’t I be?”
One eyebrow rose. “You are surrounded by people who tried to murder you, in case you’ve forgotten.”
“I haven’t forgotten. I doubt any of them are hiding in the bathwater!”
“One can never be too sure.” He made no attempt to stand and leave.
I stared at him. “You shouldn’t be in here, and I shouldn’t have to explain that.”
“You have nothing to fear from me.”
“Why? Because of him?” I spat.
“Because of Cas?” he said, and I blinked, hearing the nickname for the first time from someone other than him. “He would be annoyed to find me in here.”
I wasn’t sure if I should feel good to hear that or more annoyed.
A ghost of a smile appeared. “And then he’d be…intrigued.”
My mouth opened, but my mind took that and leapt with it. I had nothing to say. Absolutely nothing, but I thought about what I had read about the wolven and the Atlantians. There was a bond between some of them, and while not much was known about what that bond entailed, I was confident that a Prince was of the class that wolven would be bonded to. I wanted to ask, but considering I was in a tub and naked, now wasn’t the time.
Kieran’s gaze dropped, moving down my arms to the curve of my stomach and thigh. “Among my people, scars are revered. They are never hidden.”
The only scar he could see was the one along the side of my waist. At least, I hoped. “Among my people, it’s not polite to stare at a naked woman in a bathtub.”
“Your people sound incredibly boring.”
“Get out!” I shrieked.
Chuckling, Kieran rose with nearly the same grace and fluidity that he moved with. “The Prince wouldn’t want you sitting in cold, dirty water. You should probably finish up your bath.”
My nails were digging into the skin of my legs. “I don’t care what he wants.”
“You should,” he replied, and I gritted my teeth. “Because he wants you even though he knows better, even though he knows it will end in yet another tragedy.”
Chapter 41
After quickly drying off and changing into clean, dry clothing, I did everything in my power to forget that the brief conversation in the bathing chamber with Kieran had happened.
The breeches were a little tight, causing me to wonder if they had belonged to a child, but they were clean and soft, and I wasn’t complaining. The long-sleeve tunic