Page 27 of Blade of the Nightking

“I’m an Eidra, am I not?” I insisted.

His mouth flattened, the humor fading. “Rìan is an entirely different beast. He’s… too powerful.”

I crossed my arms stubbornly over my chest. “Eidrae were creatures of limitless magic. You said so yourself.”

He let out a quiet huff of laughter. “Only this creature never learned how to use hers properly.”

I splashed him lightly, grateful for the brief relief from the heaviness. “I’m not the one who skipped out on my lessons.”

“Fair point.” He grinned then, bright and genuine, a rare beam of sunlight cutting through the dark. “I’ll work on my attendance.”

“Please do.”

He took the cloth from my fingers, the smile lingering, intimate and meant only for me. My heart tightened painfully in my chest.

“Turn around.”

I did as he asked, turning so my back faced him. He passed a small jar over my shoulder, and I scooped the citrus-scented soap into my palms, working it into a lather before washing myself. When I finished, he took the jar from me. He washed my back as I’d washed his, his touch slow and careful, before sliding his hands into my hair. His strong fingers massaged my scalp, drawing a quiet, involuntary moan from my throat.

He shifted aside so I could lean back and rinse away the suds. When I sat upright again, he gathered my hair over one shoulder, his fingers grazing the sides of my neck. A pleasant shiver rippled through me.

He reached for a comb and drew it carefully through my wet strands, patiently working from the ends upward, never pulling or snagging. Each careful stroke soothed something tight and aching inside me. I had the sense that it calmed him too.

“You’re good with the knots,” I murmured, eyes closed, my head tilting subtly toward the ceiling.

“Well, I can’t let you do it.” There was a joking edge in his tone. “I’ve watched you brush your hair—you rip through it so angrily I’m amazed there’s any of it left on your head.”

I chuffed a quiet laugh. “Are you so afraid of ending up with a bald Eidra for a mate?”

“Bald or not,” he said without hesitation, “you’d still be devastatingly beautiful.”

Something in that simple certainty melted straight through me. I turned my head over my shoulder, searching for him. He was already there, his lips meeting mine in a long, gentle kiss. It was unhurried, full of quiet affection, and I softened into it completely.

He drew back and returned to his task, the comb gliding through my hair in slow, soothing strokes. I let my eyes close again, allowing myself to sink into the simple pleasure of being cared for.

“Tell me about Dheren,” I said softly.

“What do you want to know?”

“What is this place?” I gestured around us, water trailing from my fingertips.

“The military center of the Court of Flame. We keep our army here.”

“Are we underground?” I already knew the answer, and dreaded it.

“Yes.” He worked at a particularly stubborn knot, easing the tines of the comb through it. “Miles underground.”

The knowledge unsettled me more than I expected. The thought of the earth above us—the weight of stone and soil, the sunlight impossibly far away—pressed down on my shoulders, sudden and claustrophobic.

“The Treaty between the Courts allows each realm to retain a small army,” he continued. “Not that we’ve needed them in three hundred years. But it’s a safeguard. In case one Court breaches the trust.” His tone sharpened slightly. “We don’t want another Rìan running around unchecked.”

I hesitated. If what I’d seen was considered a small army, I hated to imagine what a large one looked like. The soldiers rose in my mind, their vacant expressions, the strange patterning stretching across their skin.

“Why do they look like that?” I asked. “The soldiers. Their faces, I mean.”

The comb paused halfway through my hair.

“Runes.” I caught the note of pride in his voice. “The soldiers of this Court are embedded with magic. They’re taken young—before puberty, before they can truly wield power on their own. We extract stone from the Vein”—his hand gestured vaguely—“the river of fire you saw in the chasm. We temper it into beads, infuse them with magic, and insert them beneath the skin.”