wanted to see it again. I sank into the steaming water and set about scrubbing my hands and arms until they were pink with heat and friction. Without any warning, the image of Rylan appeared in my mind, the look of shock on his face as he stared down at his chest.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I lowered myself more and let the water slip over my head. I stayed there until my lungs burned and I no longer saw Rylan’s face. Only then did I allow myself to resurface. There I stayed, bruised knees tucked to my chest, until my skin puckered, and the water began to cool.
I rose from the soaking tub, pulling on a thick robe that Tawny had left on a nearby stool and padded on bare feet across the fire-warmed stone to the lone mirror. Using my palm to wipe away a bit of steam, I stared into my green eyes. My father had passed that color onto Ian and me. Our mother had brown eyes. I remembered that. The Queen had told me once that except for my eyes, I was a replica of my mother when she was my age. I had her strong brow and her oval-shaped face, angular cheekbones, and full mouth.
I tilted my cheek. The faintly red and bruised skin along my temple and the corner of my mouth were barely noticeable. Whatever the Healer had rubbed onto the skin had greatly sped up the healing process.
It had to be the same mixture I’d used to heal the welts that too often marked my back.
I pushed that thought from my head as I looked at my left cheek. That too had healed but had left a mark behind.
I didn’t look at the scars often, but I did now. I studied the jagged streak of skin, a pink paler than my skin tone, that started below the hairline and sliced across my temple, narrowly missing my left eye. The healed injury ended by my nose. Another shorter wound was higher up, cutting across my forehead and through my eyebrow.
I lifted my damp fingers, pressing them to the longer scar. I’d always thought that my eyes and mouth seemed too large for my face, but the Queen had said that my mother had been considered a great beauty.
Whenever Queen Ileana spoke of my mother, she did so with pained fondness. They’d been close, and I knew she regretted granting my mother the one thing she’d ever asked her for.
Permission to refuse the Ascension.
My mother had been a Lady in Wait, given to the Court during her Rite, but my father had not been a Lord. She had chosen my father over the Blessing of the gods, and that kind of love…it was, well, I didn’t have any experience with that. Probably never would, and I doubted most people did, no matter what their futures held. What my mom had done was unheard of. She’d been the first and the last to ever do so.
Queen Ileana had said more than once that if my mother had Ascended, she might’ve survived that night, but that night may have never come. I wouldn’t be standing here. Neither would Ian. She wouldn’t have married our father, and if she had Ascended, she would bear no children.
The Queen’s beliefs were irrelevant.
But when the mist had come for us that night, if my parents had known how to defend themselves, both might still be alive. It was why I was standing here instead of the captive of a man determined to take down the Ascended and more than willing to shed blood to do so. If Malessa had known how to defend herself, her outcome may have still been the same, but she would’ve at least had a chance.
My gaze once more met my reflection’s. The Dark One would not take me. That was a vow I would kill for and die to uphold.
I lowered my hand and then slowly turned from the mirror. I changed into a gown, leaving a lamp burning beside the door and crawled into bed. It couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes before a soft knock sounded on the adjoining door, and Tawny’s voice called out.
I rolled toward the entrance. “I’m awake.”
Tawny eased inside, shutting the door behind her. “I…I couldn’t sleep.”
“I haven’t even tried yet,” I admitted.
“I can go back to my room if you’re tired,” she offered.
“You know I won’t be falling asleep anytime soon.” I patted the spot beside me.
Hurrying