I stuff the rest in my mouth that’s still half full and reach into my satchel again, retrieving a blue shirt, brown pants, a terracotta mug with a hardy handle, and a wooden box filled with paints. Then I grab a leather pouch of paintbrushes and a small, homespun bag I filled with clippings as I made my way back to the palace.
I bite into another bun, staring at my collection of wares as I chew, brow pinched, mind churning, gaze darting between the mug, the paints, the clippings ...
Something plops onto my chest, and I glance down to see a drizzle of honey smeared all over my necklace, through the links, glazing Kai’s conch.
“Crap,” I mutter, dashing my hood back and setting the bun aside as I swipe at the stickiness oozing down my chin and chest. I undo my shirt buttons and ease my cloak off my shoulder a little so I have better access. The last thing I want to do right now is bathe, but I can’t leave myself and my necklace smothered in honey …
A rebellious thought strikes, and I stand slow, something restless planting in my chest as I glance at those fragile doors again, remembering the last time I unsullied myself fromhislie.
He knew. Somehow.
I will not beg you to protect yourself, Milaje. Put the fucking necklace on. Now.
The words were spoken like the very thought of me not wearing ittorturedhim. Well. I’m not opposed to the thought of him suffering a little. A silentfuck youfor stalking me for the past week.
I double-check the lock, draw the curtains, and make for the bathing chambers to the beat of my thundering heart.
The large, blue-stone room is lit by decorative lanterns hanging from gold wall hooks, their tall glass panels casting the space in an underwater tone.
Reaching behind my neck, I pause, touching the clasp with trembling fingers, trying to calm my staggered breaths.
I swallow, grit my teeth, and release the clasp.
My necklace falls heavily into the palm of my hand, the sound of the tinkling chain seeming to echo through the room.
I shudder.
The tightness peels down, freeing me from its snug embrace in skin-tingling increments that make my chest swell and my lids flutter closed—a deep breath pouring into me like it’s my first in weeks.
I clench my hand around the jewel, squeezing.
I know I’m a monster—that this pretty skin has split to release something truly horrific. I just hate that something so wrong feels so good. So natural and free andme.
Opening my eyes, I avoid looking in the mirror as I run the necklace under the tap, massaging the links with a lather of soap; avoid paying attention to my hands—to my skin that feels silky smooth and petal thin. Just like … my brother’s.
My throat aches with an unwanted swell of emotions.
This was a bad idea.
Heart racing, I scrub harder, faster, rinsing off the suds. The lantern light catches on something scrawled across the latch, and I pause, pulling it close, squinting at the line of script so dainty it’s impossible to make out. “Weird,” I mutter, holding it closer to the lantern hanging beside the vanity.
Movement catches my eye, and my gaze shoots to the mirror, a gasp escaping when I see Old Hattie with her papery skin and tumble of silver hair standing right behind me.
Stomach dropping so fast I almost vomit, I whirl, necklace clasped in one hand, the other whipping up to shield my thrashing heart.
She watches me.Studiesme—her frantic gaze scouring every inch of my exposed skin.
Though I can see my radiant reflection bouncing off her insipid eyes, she appears unruffled by my river of pearlescent hair; by my ears that taper and the crystal thorns that line their shells.
Her attention homes on my bare shoulder partially covered by my hair, and she steps close. Panic fires up my throat as her withered hand rises, a blue cupla dangling from her frail wrist, bony fingers unfurling in a way that reminds me of Shay. She eases the tendrils back, exposing my bare shoulder and heaving chest.
She swallows, eyes rising to meet my own.
There’s something unsaid wedged there like a quiet barb …
Something I don’t understand.
Gripping my chain, she tugs hard, urging me to release it from my white-knuckled grip.
