Page 118 of Lady of the Drowned Empire
“Thank you,” I said.
“Everyone here is discreet,” she said, almost as if in warning. She offered a wide smile, looking me up and down, something pointed in her eyes before she went back to her scroll.
Rhyan leaned in toward me. “Ka Azria,” he said quietly.
My eyes widened. Gods…the Ka who’d been wiped out by the Emperor. I’d never thought that some Elyrians might still be loyal to them, might not approve of Ka Elys ruling over them now. I only then realized how nearly complete their destruction had been. The Emperor wouldn’t have just killed the family, but erased every last image of their sigil as well.
I hauled our bags over my shoulders, waving off Rhyan’s protests, and held the door open for him before closing it behind us.
“She knew you,” I said.
Rhyan stared at the ground as we walked. “Like I said, I’ve stayed here before.”
My stomach twisted as a memory resurfaced of the word whore being hurled at Rhyan at the habibellum.
“Did you ever do more than just stay here?”
“No,” he said, but his aura darkened, adding to the already deep chill of the night air. Elyria was considerably colder than Bamaria, and now that we’d slowed down, I was really feeling the drop in temperature, the cold seeping into my bones.
“Okay,” I said.
“There it is,” he said, pointing ahead at a hut painted orange with purple ashvan flying across the side. On the wooden door was the number seven. Rhyan limped past me, grunting, and unlocked the door as I followed. He lit a candle in the doorway, using it to bring flames to the fireplace and the few torches on the walls. The entire room was round like the outside and held a large bed, two nightstands, a circular dining table set for two, and a sectioned-off bathroom. The windows all had their curtains open, the glass frosted over.
I locked the door behind us and released our bags, pushing them to the side. My hands shook with the cold as I quickly shut the curtains for privacy.
Rhyan clutched his stomach with a moan. Now inside, I could feel the shift in his energy, feel just how much he’d been holding the pain in.
“Here,” I said, rushing to his side. “Lean on me. I’m taking you to the bed.”
He let me guide him to the edge and sit him down, and just as I had the night before, I removed his boots and weapons as he watched me.
“I never used the services here,” he said quietly. “Or provided them.”
I nodded, unhooking his belt. “I know. You told me. I believe you.”
“You had this look on your face outside.” His jaw tightened, and I sat beside him on the bed, taking his hand in mine—still loosely bandaged.
I slid off his leather arm cuffs, careful not to touch the bandage around his right hand. “In the arena, they were yelling all sorts of things at you. Including whore. And I guess I was just thinking about it.” I set the cuffs on the nightstand with the rest of his gear.
His eyes darkened. “It’s not for this.” He looked away, gesturing at the room. “For something else.” His hand flopped back into his lap, his fingers flexing in irritation.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked.
He frowned, and bit his bottom lip. “I do. And with you.” His finger traced my palm. “But not tonight. I feel like shit already.”
I smoothed back his hair, letting his locks run through my fingers and fall into loose waves. “I’m going to take care of you. I want you to feel better.”
He cupped my cheek and stroked it with his thumb. “I should be doing that for you.”
“You are, just by existing.”
He scoffed.
“You are,” I said again. “But you’re injured. So, it’s still my turn, okay? You’ve done more than enough tonight. I’ll be careful. Let me know if anything I do hurts.”
He’d always been hesitant to let his guard down with me. Hesitant to let me take care of him. I was pretty sure that was a habit he’d had for a long time. So I knew what a big deal this was for him, to be this vulnerable with me.
I looked him over. He’d been choked and punched in the face a few times—his neck was red and his cheek had dried blood over it. I needed to disinfect the cut at once and put a cold compress on his eye to keep the swelling down. I could ask the kitchen for supplies when they brought over dinner. Hopefully, he’d packed moonleaves. I could burn them to ease any pain he was in—and it probably wouldn’t hurt for him to have a drink.
