Page 141 of Golden Queen
"Two," I agreed, feeling slightly abashed for the way I agreed to give her the gold knowing it was Io's coin.
"And another two if no one finds their way in to rob us while we sleep," he added.
"Psh," the woman said, throwing a hand up in dismissal as she turned to walk further down the hallway. She stopped in front of another identical door and used a key in her pocket to open it. "The royal suite awaits, Milady and Milord," she said with sarcasm.
I smiled warmly at her. "Thank you—" I paused for her to supply her name.
"Ida," she said, seeming both surprised and pleased.
"Thank you, Ida." I smiled at her, and she returned it with a warmth I hadn't expected.
Ida promised to give the key to the next room down to Aben and Britaxia, and to send us up some dinner. Though I wasn't expecting much from the Beaver Trap kitchens, I knew I would welcome the food on my mostly empty stomach.
When the courtesan left, I noted that the room wasn't bad. It looked neat and clean, if a little threadbare. The hearth was cold, but the wood was laid in place and Io had it roaring to life in moments.
A large, soft-looking bed covered in patchwork quilts and oversized pillows lay in front of a picturesque window. Heavy dark-red curtains were pushed open to show what I assumed, on a clear day, might be a view of the mountains. Then, it was a swirling mass of gray and white as the light of the day faded to dusk.
There was a sofa and chair grouped around a low wooden table, and a large clawfoot tub in the corner with two metal spouts crooked over the edge where the pipes climbed up through the floor.
It was unfortunate that the tub wasn't in a bathing chamber—and even more unfortunate when I realized there was no bathing chamber at all. I was willing to bet there was a privy out in the hall that I would dread visiting.
Io would probably insist on walking me there—for safety, of course.
I rolled my eyes at the idea, realizing that I felt a lightheartedness being in the Beaver Trap that I hadn’t felt since leaving Albiyn. I didn't know where it came from—nothing had really changed at all. I would not take it for granted, in any case, as I shrugged off my heavy coat and boots.
Io had thrown our packs and the paper parcels containing our few mercantile purchases on the couch. I bought soap and sweet-smelling shampoo in the little shop. Or rather, Io had purchased it for me since I had not a single copper penny to my name.
He had removed his coat, and he was standing at the window looking out at the snow as the light continued to fade from the day.
I reached down and turned on the bath water, and his head whipped around.
I felt a rush of something willful and reckless as I suddenly just did not give a damn. I started to unbutton my shirt, my heart racing.
This was where it had all been going—every thread of fate that had been unwinding before me. It had all been leading here from the very start.
"Sera," Io said in both question and warning.
"You said it's much too dangerous to leave me here alone, so if you don't want to see, I suggest you turn back around," I said as I reached the middle button of my shirt.
His eyes darted down to my thin chemise and my fingers fumbling with the buttons for the barest fraction of a second. And then he exhaled irritably and turned back to the window.
I caught the reflection in the glass from the lantern at my back. It told me he wasn't necessarily only seeing the snow in that window.
I knew I should not be doing it. I knew it was wrong on so many levels. But I just truly did not give a damn. And I needed a bath.
I tossed my shirt, rather loudly, onto the floor and then added soap from the paper parcel to the water. While the tub filled and the bubbles foamed up on the surface, I removed the rest of my clothes.
I turned away from the window, being too cowardly to actually meet his gaze in the reflection as I slid my pants from my hips and pulled the short silky undershirt over my head.
When I was sunk into the bubbles up to my neck in the nearly scalding water, I told him, "You can turn around now. I'm decent."
He didn't turn around. He made no move at all, and when I slid my gaze to his reflection in the glass, I met intense, angry eyes staring back at me.
Desire, hot and fierce, rolled through me at the sight of those wrath-filled eyes. He was so fucking gorgeous—made only more so when he looked like he was on the verge of some blood-fueled rampage.
And dear gods, he was so close—just a few steps away. All I would need to do is stand up and cross the distance.
It surprised me, shocked me even—the familiar aching need for him and how easily it settled back into place between my legs and in my chest—how intrinsically it seemed wrapped around my own beating heart.
