Page 44 of Song of the Heart Scale
“You’ll be staying here as well. We’ve prepared rooms.”
She blinked. “Truly?”
“I don’t do hospitality halfway.”
We followed him inside, past gilded archways and wide halls filled with art, books, and oddities from every edge and age of Elaria. Uncle Bai’s estate was as much a home as it was a museum.
“I hope you like libraries,” Uncle Bai said as we climbed the stairs.
“Depends,” Cat replied. “You got any books that don’t end in tragic death and heartbreak?”
“Those are the best kind.”
“Remind me never to let you pick the bedtime stories.”
His lips quirked slightly.
He led us to a spacious suite with arched windows overlooking the garden. A sitting room adjoined the sleeping quarters, and a claw-foot tub gleamed in the adjoining washroom.
Cat stepped inside and turned in a slow circle. “Damn,” she muttered. “I could get used to this.”
Uncle Bai stepped back toward the hall. “Rest. Eat. Heal. We’ll talk later.”
“Talk about what?” Cat asked.
He paused at the door. “About what comes next.” He turned to Maeve. “Come, dear. I’ll show you where you’ll be staying.”
Taking Maeve with him, he left us there, , the door clicking quietly behind them.
Cat turned to me. “Should I be worried?”
“Always.” I pulled her into my arms for a quick hug. “But you’re not alone anymore.”
She grimaced at the dirt stains and dried blood on her skin and looked longingly at the wash basin. I released her with a sigh and plucked a clean cloth from beside the basin, dampened it with warm water, and gestured for her to sit.
“Let me,” I said.
She looked like she might argue at first, but then the tension ebbed from her shoulders and she sank into the cushioned chair by the hearth. I knelt in front of her and gently pressed the cloth to her cheek. She hissed at first, but then went still beneath my touch.
Her eyes searched mine. “Why are you doing this?” she asked softly.
I didn’t answer right away. I moved the cloth to her temple where a faint bruise already marred her delicate skin. My thumb brushed a smudge of dirt from her cheek.
“Because you’ve had enough people treat you like a pawn, including myself,” I said. “Someone should treat you like a person.”
Her lips parted, but no words came out. I unbuckled the strap across her chest and helped her shrug out of her traveling cloak. I paused, giving her space to stop me, but she didn’t. Instead, she let me unlace her dress and ease it over her shoulders, revealing a long, angry scrape down her side. I sucked in a breath. “By the Immortals!”
“This looks worse than it is,” she sheepishly muttered.
“It still looks like hell.”
She offered a faint smile. “Then you should’ve seen Thorne.”
“I did,” I grumbled.
I retrieved another cloth and gingerly dabbed the wound, working in silence. Her skin was warm beneath my hands, the curve of her spine tense but trusting. “You don’t have to keep putting yourself in harm’s way… Let me handle things from here on out,” I murmured.
“I’m not the type to stand by and watch you take on the world alone,” she dryly retorted.
