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He grasped her biceps and shoved her back to the bed. “Don’t make me tie you up.”
She lifted her chin and made a move to stand up again?—
“Stay!” The growl that came from him made her blanch and freeze on the spot. Eldrion’s gaze softened. “No one is going to hurt you. Not anymore, not here. I promise.”
Anthea didn’t believe him, but she didn’t move from the bed either.
Eldrion surveyed the room, inspecting everything with an intense scrutiny. He paused on the small window, her only gateway to the outside world, then he turned away, beckoning a guard standing in the hallway. “Stay here and make sure she is safe . . . and alive when I come back,” Eldrion ordered.
Was this her reality now? Constant surveillance, always watched, never free?
The guard nodded his understanding, stepping into the room as Eldrion threw a final glance her way and departed.
A wave of fury washed over her. She grabbed the muddy blanket and threw it at the floor, screaming. Next she aimed the pillow at the guard’s face.
He caught it and set it aside stoically.
How dared he be so calm, when her world burned. Anthea gripped the wooden chair, lifted it, and?—
“Don’t!” he warned.
She threw it at him anyway.
He caught the chair too, set it aside and sat on it, refusing to match her anger.
All fight left her at the sight, her body growing numb. She curled up on the bed, her back facing the elven guard, her eyes welling up with tears. One thought echoed in her mind—she was trapped, betrayed, alone, and under constant surveillance. She was never going to get home, never going to be free. And she had nothing, no leverage. Because now she knew—she didn’t want to die. Even here, even now—she wanted to live.
The first thing her blurry vision landed on was Eldrion. He was seated on the same chair she had thrown at the guard the night before. He looked tired, still wearing the same clothes, dried mud covering his knees.
A soft blanket was draped over her, one she didn’t remember possessing before she had drifted into an exhausted sleep. Anthea glanced at the floor, the muddy blanket was gone. Without much thought, she aimed a grumble at the silent elf. “Do you even know how incredibly disturbing it is you are here watching me sleep?”
“Given you cannot be trusted with your own life right now, it is a necessity.”
Anthea narrowed her eyes at his words but didn’t bother to get up. “Oh, I assure you, I probably won’t kill myself first thing in the morning. Not before breakfast at least.”
“Your death is not a joke, Anthea.”
Her lips twisted into a bitter smile. “Well, it’s a better joke than my life, isn’t it?”
The elf clenched his jaw so tightly, it seemed like his teeth might grind to dust any second.
She turned to her side, toying with the bandages on her wrist. The dull ache reminding her of his previous actions. He might have saved her life the night before—not from any care toward her. Anthea doubted that strongly. No. They wanted something from her. Wanted to use her. Enough to showcase their cards at the meeting. Showcase that she was utterly alone in this world. She had no one on her team.
They had killed all hope.
“You will take a bath and then you will have breakfast with the queen.”
She sat up, her back to the wall, and crossed her arms over her chest. “Breakfast with the queen . . .Why?”
He rose from the chair. Though he didn’t approach her, the elf looked imposing enough from where he stood. Crossing his own arms over his chest, he only said, “You will see.”
“Well, with so little information, I don’t think I feel like going anywhere today. I’d rather stay in this room.”
Eldrion’s eyes moved from her tangled hair to her puffy eyes. “You will take a bath! You are long overdue.”
“The accommodations in Nephrite court haven’t exactly provided such luxuries,” she shot back.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, a sigh escaping him, he seemed to be internally questioning why it was him who had to deal with her. His hand fell from his face, and his stern expression was back. “I have the means to make you take that damn bath, Anthea.”
