Page 59 of The Trials of Ophelia

“You can have the room,” Jezebel said. “I need an hour to myself.”

She hadn’t spoken to any of us on the way back from the platforms. Now, she insisted on a walk, and Ophelia had shut herself in their bathing chamber.

Baby Alabath looked at me with this vulnerable expression that made me feel like a boulder was sitting on my chest. I wanted to protect her, even if space was what she needed.

Selfishly, it worked for my plan anyway.

“Not a minute more,” I swore.

The spot on my side where the alpheous’ snout had rammed into me ached as I twisted to shut the door to Ophelia’s room after Jez left. I had an hour, though, and I wouldn’t waste it on my damn ribs or the pain in my right knee.

But when I turned to the two beds in the center of the room, a small bottle waited on the one I knew was Ophelia’s—neatly made where Jezebel’s had rumpled sheets. Dark green glass reflected the moonlight streaming in through the window, a piece of wrinkled parchment beneath it.

Contraceptive tonic—you’re welcome.

- J

Fucking, Jezzie. She found it within herself to mess with me despite whatever power she’d displayed today. A shiver worked down my spine at the memory, and damn was I curious about it, but I’d let Ophelia talk to her first.

Throwing the note in the fire, I stormed back to the door. A small click sounded through the room as the handle locked. Perhaps I’d have more than an hour—if she couldn’t get in.

I tucked the tonic under the bed and checked it couldn’t be seen. Jezebel loved to joke with me, but I didn’t want Ophelia to think I’d brought that. Didn’t want her to think I would pressure her into anything when we’d set clear boundaries.

I was forward, didn’t hide much from that girl ever since I poured my heart out on her sleeve, but that was the point. She knew all of my intentions for her. Maybe I didn’t tell her about the ones that kept me up at night imagining every different way I could have her, but she knew it.

And I laid them out before her to take when she was ready. To walk across and leave footprints on my soul. As long as she was coming toward me, I’d gladly suffer all those imprints.

I’d wait an eternity if she wanted.

Tonight, though, I didn’t have an eternity. That lock wouldn’t hold an angry, sleep-deprived Alabath for long. Particularly not one who held…well, whatever it was Jezzie had been keeping secret.

I settled down on the neatly-made bed, untied my boots, and leaned back against the pillows. The orange glow of the fire cast a wavering circle on the floor, dancing shadows piercing the circumference. Where it crept across the dark wood and met moonlight, the two bled together, hot flame and icy night contrasting and conflicting, but somehow fitting. How two things could be so opposite, made of entirely differing properties, and still be made for one another, was beautiful?—

The bathing chamber door finally swung open and every poetic thought fled from my mind.

“By the ever-damned Angels, Vincienzo!” Ophelia gasped as she strode out, long legs on display under maroon silk. “What are you doing in here?”

She finished tying her robe, crossing her arms in a way that only pushed her breasts up and had my attention in an instant.

By the Spirits, I scolded myself, get it together, Vincienzo. It wasn’t like I hadn’t seen her in less before…and always had the same damn reaction. Been hiding it for as long as I could remember.

So I tucked my hands behind my head, kicked off my boots, and crossed my feet on her bed, plastering on the smirk she was weak for. “Just waiting to say goodnight.”

“You let yourself in?” Her brows flicked up, eyes flitting toward the door she’d come out of. I could practically read the thoughts coursing through her magnificent mind.

“Surprised I didn’t run right in there while you were in the bath?” I laughed.

“Well, truthfully, yes.” Her arms fell to her sides, and it was an effort to not laugh again at the adorably confused crease in her brow. Ophelia wasn’t often caught unaware. Any time I was one step ahead of her, I cherished it.

“I may jokingly test boundaries, Alabath, but I’m always going to respect your wishes.”

“I know that.” Her face softened, losing the rest of that mask she wore for the world so often, sometimes she forgot to take it off. “Things seemed to have”—a shrug—“progressed.”

She ran a hand up the scar from Kakias that twisted my fucking gut every time I saw her flinch over it. Magenta eyes went to the three items on the dresser: her emblem necklace, Barrett’s ring, and the new pearl we’d acquired today.

And those walls tumbled down within her tightly built frame.

“Ophelia,” I whispered. Scooting to the edge of her bed, I held out an arm.

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