It’s just me. Justhislie reflecting back at me—hair a wild mess, tanned from all the sun, more freckles dashed across my nose than normal.
I’m going mad.
I sob, insides lurching as I fold to the side and grip the latrine. My stomach convulses, vomit bursting from my trembling lips. My tongue aches by the time I’m done, stomach muscles spasming. I use some tissue to wipe acidic residue from my mouth, then toss it down the hole, pawing at the onyx jewel clipped around my neck.
Snarling.
I grip the latch with both fingers, tugging, making sure it’s tightly fastened.
“Fuck you, Rhordyn.” I shove to my feet and stare at his lie in the mirror again, pinching my face as though I’m pinchinghim.“You got what you wanted—me out of your way.You don’t get to haunt me too.”
I spin, lift my leg over the edge of the bath, and dip my toes into the scalding water. A shiver travels all the way to the back of my neck.
Toohot.
I close my eyes, focus on the unwanted hug of my tight skin, and press the sole of my foot flush against the brass, sucking a sharp breath as the heat nips at the sore on the back of my heel—like rubbing salt in the peeled wound. Hissing tight breaths, I thread my other foot beneath the water and lower myself.
Every scrape riddled across my skin flares with a blaze of sting, but I force myself to endure the pain—theheat—until everything from my clavicle down is raw and straddling that fine line between hot chafe and blistering burn.
Easing back, I lean my head against the brass as the scald loses its edge. A droopy comfort takes over my limbs and mind, turning my thoughts sludgy and slow, my blinks getting heavier, longer …
I seethem—broken, bloody, in pieces.
Staring.
I feel warm blood tacky on my hands. See its polychrome shine, born from the swing of an axe while my mother watched on and screamed.
My brother’s.
Gasping, I jerk my head off the side of the bath, eyes popping open.
The bath, now warm like my brother’s blood, makes my entire body shiver.
Fuck.
Groggily, limbs heavy, I clamber out, almost tripping over my own feet before I wrap myself in a towel and wring out my sodden hair. Pulling the door open, I step into the bedroom.
Breath catching, I still.
Cainon stands before the fireplace, hand perched on the mantle, staring into dancing flames.
My heart lodges in my throat as I spot my sack sitting on the end of the bed …open.
“Vanth told me that Rhordyn refused to let you go.” My gaze darts to the back of his head—the sketched undercut grown out so much I can no longer make out a pattern. “I’m wondering if it works both ways.”
“What do you mean?”
Cainon turns, eyes chips of ice, and my gaze drags to the bunch of black fabric held in his white-knuckled fist.
Nostrils flaring, I take in the faintest hint of Rhordyn’s scent that still hits like a punch to the chest, knocking my heart into a spin.
I bolt my feet to the floor and resist the urge to leap forward.
Snatch it.
He tosses the slip through the air, and it lands in a flutter on the floorboards between us.
Silence.
