Page 26 of Blade of the Nightking

“I’m going to bathe,” he said at last, his voice flat.

He crossed the room stiffly. The door opened, torches flaring to life in the adjoining chamber as he disappeared. Moments later, the sound of running water reached me.

I sat there alone, ears ringing, my breath still uneven. He hadn't admitted to it outright, but what had slipped silently through the bond was damning enough. Guilt. Misery. Something heavier, darker, simmering beneath rigid control.

I stared at the floor for a long moment, letting the impossible settle over me.

I could feel him.

Was I in shock? Imagining things that weren't there? Feeling things that couldn't possibly exist because my mind had finally splintered after everything I’d endured?

The cell. The torture. The collar. Dragonfire. Aedric nearly dying. Me nearly dying. Facing Rìan alone. Solmire burning to ash. And beneath everything the crushing certainty that all of this—all of it—had been my fault.

Trauma layered upon trauma.

I wasn't thinking clearly. I was doubting him. Questioning things that defied all reason. Why? So I could convince myself he deserved my anger? So I wouldn't have to shoulder all the blame myself?

Shame flooded me, swift and merciless.

His city had burned. Tens of thousands of his people had died because of me. He was grieving, his heart already broken open by that horror—and I’d sat there twisting the knife deeper, accusing him of betrayal, of somehow having a hand in the terrible things I’d suffered. Worse, I’d convinced myself I could feel his guilt.

Was I going mad? I wanted to scream.

How could I do that to him? How could I look at everything he’d lost and still make this about myself?

My dress slipped from my fingers and pooled at my feet. Naked, I crossed the chamber, pushed open the bathing room door, and stepped inside.

The floors and walls were fashioned from black stone polished to a mirror sheen, so smooth they caught and scattered the torchlight in shimmering reflections, turning the room into a deep and endless cavern. At the center lay the bathing pool, smaller than the one I’d used in Solmire. A steady stream of water poured from a darkened spout at one end, cascading with a soft, constant murmur. Steam curled low over the surface, carrying the clean scent of soap and heated stone, touched by a faint hint of sulfur.

Aedric sat submerged to his waist, his back to me.

He scrubbed at himself with almost punishing force, the cloth dragging harshly over muscle and skin, as though he could scour something deeper than dirt away. It struck me then that he was so undone he hadn’t even bothered to glamor himself, to hide the vicious web of scars lacing his body. He didn’t hear me enter. Didn’t sense me at all until I slipped into the bath behind him.

He startled when the water displaced, shoulders tensing, breath hitching. I reached for his hand.

“Let me,” I murmured, the words a tremulous offering of peace.

His fingers loosened as I took the cloth from him. I pressed it to his back and began to wash him, slower than he had been, gentler. The tension bled out of him in stages. His shoulders sagged. His head bowed forward, and he dragged both hands over his face, elbows braced on his knees.

For a while, there was only the sound of water and the wet scrape of cloth.

“You didn’t forgive me.”

My heart splintered inside my chest as I watched the dried blood soften and run in thin rivulets down his ruined back, tracing the old lines of his scars before disappearing into the water.

Scars left by Eidrae magic. By the same magic that ran through my own veins.

“It’s me who should beg your forgiveness.” Tears pricked at my eyes. “All of this is my fault. The Dark Prince⁠—”

“No, El.” He turned abruptly to face me. “Don't do that to yourself. He's a mind-bender. A master puppeteer. He knew exactly what he was doing. You didn't.”

“He’s free because of me,” I said miserably.

“No,” he brushed a damp strand of hair behind my ear. “He’s free because of me. The flaw was my doing. What I told you was true—my selfishness cost the world its safety. He’s back now, and it’s my responsibility to end what I began.”

“I’ll help you.”

He arched a brow, a ghost of a smirk breaking through. “You?”