Page 78 of Vicious Is My Throne

“Fuck no.” He looked faintly nauseous at the prospect.

“Then stop wasting time.” Tristan lifted me to my feet, my legs cramping as I straightened. “So could you? Fly that far? I know you’ve used all your magic, but every hour we waste is an hour less Blackcastle has left.”

“Well…maybe if I had something in my stomach.” Tristan glanced hopefully at Bexley, who rolled his eyes and mumbled something about us all being a bunch of helpless brutes and him not being a godsdamned galley cook.

The next minute, the table overflowed with a literal banquet.

“Where, exactly, did you transport this in from?” Tavion suspiciously sniffed a loaf of bread. “And don’t tell me Tempeste or I’m tossing every last scrap down the ravine.”

“This is my secret stash I hid in an upstairs bedroom when you all descended upon me like a bunch of lawless scavengers.”

Bexley ran his hand lovingly over the food. “But, I suppose, given the fact we’re all about to die, I can share.”

32

ANARIA

After Tristan stuffed himself with more food than I thought possible and flew off to Varitus, Tavion herded me upstairs, back to the sumptuous bedroom that was beginning to feel more and more like a permanent fixture in our lives.

I picked Zor’s note off the bed and set it on the nightstand.

“Are you alright?” I glanced at the stiff, swollen fingers he kept flexing.

“Don’t worry about me. You’re the one who went toe to toe with the Oracle today.” He shouldered off his heavy jacket, tossing it over the footstool at the end of the bed.

“Tristan got a fire going, but we didn’t have time to arrange for a bath, Anaria,” he murmured apologetically, crossing to where a pitcher sat on a dry sink, folded cloths piled to the side. “We’ll have to make do. Sit over there and let me take care of my wife.”

I sank down on the silk bench in front of a luxurious dressing table, the toiletries and perfumes long dried up, the colorful glass bottles and glossy tabletop coated in a layer of dust. I picked up a brush, Lady Wynter’s long, white hairs still clinging to the bristles.

“Get your jacket and shirt off,” he ordered gently, rolling back his sleeves. “Let me help get you cleaned up before bed.”

“I just put these on,” I pointed out, but when Tavion settled those green eyes on me, I knew I’d already lost the battle. “Fine.”

I peeled my jacket off, then the shirt while he dragged over a chair and set the pitcher and cloths on the floor beside him, waiting until I was settled again before dipping the cloth into the water and wringing it out, his corded forearms flexing with every move.

The first swipe of the rough rag against my skin was like ice, Tavion gently dragging the wet rag over me in long, soothing strokes, neither of us saying a word, though his heated gaze retraced every inch of wet skin left by the sweep of his fingers.

He massaged my tight shoulders before he laved water over them, paying special attention to the white tree branded on my arm, fingers dancing lightly over the delicate branches. My husband unknotted the base of my neck before lifting my hair and running the rag down the length of my spine, pausing only to rinse the cloth again or trade it for a clean one.

The air in the room heated from the fire—or Tavion’s nearness—and I drowsed, letting him smooth aching stiff muscles into loose, relaxed ones until he’d washed every inch of my shoulders and back. I was half asleep when he dropped the rag into the pitcher with a splash, opening my eyes to find him kneeling in front of me.

He pulled my foot into his lap and worked the laces open on my boots. “We need to take better care of you.” He spoke so quietly I strained to hear him. “You look tired, love. And we should talk about Ravenswood. I know?—”

“I don’t want to talk about that place.” Dread curled up inside me, long dormant panic raising its ugly head. “The castle is the only location that makes sense, and what happened there…was a long time ago.”

“Anaria.” Tavion slipped my boot off and went to work on my other one. “We’ve never spoken about what happened.”

“And we’re not starting now.” I kept my eyes on the back of his head as he removed my other boot then dug his fingers deep into the arch of my foot, biting my lip because that felt so damn good. He went up to his knees, cupped my face, and forced me to look at him.

To see the guilt in his eyes.

“You can’t pretend nothing happened. We want to help you, but we can’t, not if we don’t know anything.” He tipped his head so our foreheads touched. “All I want is to protect you. To keep you safe. Not only your body but your mind.”

“Everything that happened at Ravenswood is in the past. Everyone there is dead. None of them can ever hurt me again.” I tried to sound nonchalant but damn these tears pricking at my eyelids.

Tavion didn’t say anything more, looking disappointed as he skimmed his fingers down my sides and snagged the waistband of my leathers. “Then let’s get these off. I’ll wash your legs, then I’ll tuck you into bed.”

My toes curled into the rug, something I sincerely hoped my husband didn’t notice.

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