The Crown’s Quarters, Maeve’s old rooms at Castle Morana, looked just as she remembered them. Beautiful, deep shades of blue and plum decorated the space. Memories of sleeping there with Mal as he held her back against his chest, their legs a tangled mess.
Now tainted by the presence of a demon.
Shadow’s hand crept up her breast, playing with herself as Mal moved between her legs, spreading them wider—
“Stop it,” she cried, her fingers bracing herself against the edge of the bath.
Reeve’s assistance had worn off, putting her mind at the mercy of watching such heartbreaking things. But she couldn’t even think about Mal at that moment.
Fire raged through her.
Maeve had never felt anything like it. The cool water should have offered her some relief, but she may as well have been sitting in a hot spring. She sank deeper into the bath, just that small movement draining her.
A muffled voice echoed across the bathroom. At her side, a figure appeared. Maeve opened her eyes groggily as someone leaned over the tub, eyes shifting between Maeve’s half-conscious ones.
“Oh dear,” they said. “Come on, child. Let’s get you up before you accidentally drown.”
The figure moved to help her out of the bath, reaching an arm around her back.
Maeve.
Mal’s voice sounded out, so clear that it had to be his touch against her back, lifting her. Panic raced through Maeve. Electricity crackled down Maeve’s arm and across her chest, wild and violent. The figure recoiled quickly, dropping Maeve. Water sloshed over the edge as they gasped and jumped back.
The room darkened, only for a moment, and Maeve felt his presence as he appeared from the mist in the bathroom.
“The fever, My Lord,” said the voice softly. “It’s too high for her.”
Reeve inhaled stiffly and moved towards Maeve. He did not look down at her exposed body.
“Don’t,” she started weakly, barely able to open her eyes, but knowing it was him, “touch me.”
Reeve didn’t break her gaze. He nodded and kneeled beside the bath.
“Who can touch you?” he asked gently.
Maeve didn’t answer.
“Someone has to, Maeve. You have to get to the healing waters. Your fever is too high.”
“How far away is it?” She asked.
“If I can Obscure us, it’s instant. Otherwise,” he looked up at the blurry figure, “perhaps sedation for the journey there.”
Maeve surged forward, water shifting beneath her momentary strength. She reached towards him, gripping the collar of his shirt, forcing his attention back on her. His eyes slid to her hands.
“No,” she said weakly, her grip already faltering as her body threatened to slide fully into the water. “Please don’t do that. Please don’t—”
Reeve didn’t move to touch her. His face was pained as he said, “No one is going to sedate you. I’m sorry I said that.”
She looked back and forth between his saddened eyes. “Obscure me.”
“Hand me a robe, please, Miss Gelsey,” he said.
Gelsey. Not Mal.
Gelsey stepped towards them, placing the robe in Reeve’s outstretched arm. “Thank you,” he said. “You may go.”
Gelsey took her leave at once. Reeve’s eyes returned to hers as her body gave her a clear warning: it was going to be lights out in just a few moments.
