Page 42 of The Coven of Ruin
“Maybe next time, don’t.”
Anger and something like disappointment lingered in the space between them. “And your brothers? What of them? They’d have come and found you dead. And what would they have done when they realized I didnothing?“ she hissed. “You are surrounded by enemies here. They would rip me to shreds just in case I had any part in it and probably raze the entire city while they’re at it.”
“Can you be quiet,” he grumbled, leaning back against the wall outside the bath. The silence was broken only by the water dripping from his trousers.
She huffed out a breath as she struggled to stand up. Waterlogged skirts stuck to her legs, making the fabric heavy and bulky. His eyes were on her as she struggled, marking her movements as she almost fell stepping out of the basin. Righting herself and dripping water all over the floor, she looked up at him, prepared for battle.
“You haven’t told them yet, have you? Your brothers?”
“No, and I won’t be,” he ground out, his jaw muscle tensing with his clenched teeth.
“You aredying. You’re being selfish and… and a coward.“ She regretted the word the moment it left her mouth. But itwascowardly not to tell them. Crossing her arms, she watched as emotions rippled over his features, settling somewhere on bitter acceptance.
“You think me a coward?”
“You are if you don’t tell them.” She watched her words hit like a thrown dagger.
Nodding slowly, his lip curled into a scowl. Running his hand along the wound, something drew his attention as he peered down at it. Trista knew he was looking at the dull violet light that radiated just under the surface. Her magic.
“What did you do, witch?”
She shifted her weight, a hand coming up to pull at one of her curls. “It isn’t healed,” she said quickly. “I can’t heal it—I tried. That magic is unlike any dark magic I have ever treated before. I’ve only felt something like it outside of here once, in a mage at the Akeso before I left. My magic should slow the spread and effects of it for a time.”
Her eyes closed in a heavy blink. She could have died saving him, and maybe that was why she had done it. A life debtwasowed, after all. “I’ll try to do more research and see what I can find out, but dark—“
“No,” Ares gritted out.
“What? It is my specialty of healing. Though it is true that the necrotic way it eats at a witch or god, in this case, is mostly incurable, there are ways to—“
“I said no.” There was no arguing with that tone.
She thought of him grinning in the face of death. “Why are you such a hard-headed—“
He suddenly pushed himself off the wall and began undoing his pants, effectively cutting her off.
With a squeak that she hated herself for making, she turned around. Tentatively, she pulled her magic to the surface and muttered a quick spell to dry the heavy fabric hanging from her. It was sluggish in its response but helped nonetheless. Then she set to work draining the tub and soaking up the water splashed on the floor with nearby towels.
Minutes later, his voice broke through her mindless actions. “I’m dressed now, maiden. You can continue your defamation of my character.”
She turned around, damp towel in hand. “Maiden?” she questioned. She knew pink stained her cheeks as she looked him up and down. His attire was simple—black and well-designed for both politicking and fighting.
He ran a hand through his dark hair, the strands still damp. “Your adversity to seeing my naked form points to the fact that you probably are one.”
Her brows furrowed, but she merely rolled her eyes. “I’ve seen plenty of naked men,” she exclaimed, and she knew that the pink had turned to scarlet.
“Is that so?”
“Don’t be crass. I’m a healer. Besides, would you have preferred me to stare at you while you undressed, maiden or not?”
He shrugged dismissively. “Let’s get a few things straight, maiden,” he said.
“Don’t call me that,” she spat, but he continued as if he hadn’t heard her.
“If I seem like I’m dying, you will not touch me, call for aid, or use your magic to save me. Do you understand?”
She dropped the towel to hang loosely at her side. Fatigue rolled through her in a wave, settling deep within her bones. Defeat.
“The life debt—“ she started.
