Page 90 of The Prince and His Stolen Throne
“Raise your arms.”
As much fun as it might be to continue stubbornly refusing his demands, I wanted to see where this led. Slowly, I lifted my arms, allowing him to peel the jacket from me, like he was unwrapping a present.
Instead of moving on to the next part, he stepped away. “I’ll draw you a bath. Take off the rest and wipe yourself down with some towels before getting in.”
Irritated, I yanked my boots and the rest of my clothes off and tossed them to the floor. Ink splattered over the plush carpet and along the walls, but I no longer cared about creating a mess in Wilde’s pretty pocket dimension.
The whole time, Wilde worked with his back to me, not even trying to steal a peek. Pretending indifference to my nakedness just to be frustrating.
The wardrobe was stocked with spare sheets and a stack of fluffy white towels. I used two of them to clean the worst gunk away. Every swipe made the papercuts sting, and I hissed my pain through clenched teeth. When the towels had been dyed completely black, I dumped them on the floor next to my unsalvageable clothes.
Wilde leaned over the bathtub, testing the water as it poured from the faucet. Satisfied with the temperature, he glanced at me and ordered, “Get in.”
“I’m not following your orders,” I said as I approached the bath. “I’m doing what I already planned to do.”
His lips twitched. “If you say so.”
I glowered at him even as I climbed over the side of the tub. “It doesn’t count.”
“How’s the temperature?”
I let him change the subject and settled into the deep basin, resting one arm on the ledge. Letting my eyes drift half-shut, I focused on the warm water surrounding me. “Could be a little hotter.”
The faucet creaked as he turned it, and new warmth flowed around me.
I sighed, content, and slipped lower into the water.
“Do you want me to shampoo your hair?”
Words stuck in my throat. The question was oddly sweet, different from his usual arrogant demands. The only reply I could manage was a simple hum of assent.
Nimble fingers slipped through my greasy, filthy hair, massaging the shampoo into my scalp. It’d been a long time since someone had taken care of me. Brendon and Rick were attentive, but when I met them, I’d been old enough to take care of most things myself. The old man had left my care to various nannies, but the women willing to work for an evil mage never had such gentle hands.
When Wilde finished with my hair, he moved on to my arms, scrubbing gently yet assertively down each limb. As he revealed the thin cuts beneath, he paused. “How did you get these?”
“The catalog cards,” I explained, opening one eye to examine them. Now that they weren’t covered with ink, I could see the red, swollen edges.
Lips pressed in a grim line, Wilde traced one of the long papercuts. The light touch sparked both a sharp sting and gentle heat along my skin. “I don’t know healing magic.”
“I’ll be fine,” I assured him. “We brought health potions with us. I’ll grab one when I see the others again.” If they were willing to share.
Wilde said nothing as he nudged me forward to wash my back. My whole body felt loose and pliable from the warm water, so I didn’t have the energy to protest his silent commands. Allowing him to take care of me gave my mind time to wander.
I thought back to his confrontation with the librarian. His instant fury. Fitz’s whispered words:He’s going to destroy the library.And Maximus’ accusation:he didn’t want to help—he wanted to hurt. “Why do you care if I get hurt?”
Wilde’s careful hands stilled. “What?”
I rolled my head back to look up at him. Upside down, I felt like I was gazing up at the stars. “Are you protecting me as one of your master’s assets, or as a person?”
He scanned my face, searching for the right answer. “Would it change your opinion of me if I said both?”
“I … don’t know.”
His hands started moving again, massaging the ache from my shoulders. “We are both tools for the master to achieve his grand purpose. So, one asset to another, I will protect you to protect his interests.” His touch softened to a caress as he ran his hands down my ribs, sending goosebumps over my skin despite the warm water. He leaned forward until his lips brushed my ear. The water soaked his sleeves up to his shoulders, turning the fabric translucent. “One person to another, I would be your shield and your sword. If you need protection, I will guard you until my last breath. If you need vengeance, I will bathe the world in blood until you are satisfied.”
My eyes widened in surprise at his passionate and violent confession. Our flirtation had always been a game—he commanded, I defied, both of us intent on driving the other a little bit mad. Now he’d tossed the gameboard aside and asked me to really look at the man behind the pieces.
I nervously licked my lips and whispered, “What do you want from me in return?”
