My eyes squeezed shut against the humiliation. He would see the bruises, neat crescent moons stamped by flat teeth, skin darkened like a lover’s claim. The boy he once called son had carved that into me.
Tension radiated from him, sharp and contained, as if the garden itself held its breath. “Then?”
My arm crossed my chest as I turned away. “Egath.”
“Was he gentle?”
Horror locked my spine. Why would he ask that? Did he know? Would he measure my worth by the degree of cruelty? If Egath hadn’t been vicious, did that make my compliance worse?
“He would have been.” His breath warmed the back of my shoulder. “He had to maintain control, or he would’ve broken skin and Tallon would have killed him. He would’ve handled you like a frightened doe, coaxing obedience. A contrast to Tallon’s cruel entitlement.” Soft lips pressed against the wound, careful, solemn.
“In some ways, Egath’s attentions cut deeper than any other.” Tears burned behind my eyelids. My chest split open at his understanding. How could I have doubted him? He was Kallias.
He eased the dress lower, exposing the angry stripes along my back. Thick brocade bunched in his fists before he lifted it over my head. Cool air kissed my heated skin. I folded inward, arms crossing my breasts, trying to shield myself from the one man who saw me in my entirety.
His touch hovered at the edge of pain, close enough to sting. “And this?”
“Tallon.” My whisper barely carried. “Angry when I chose to persuade Deimos.”
“Deimos, the Velli King?”
I nodded. Unease prickled beneath my skin. He would hear what I did not say, that I’d been a willing participant.
“There’s more here than Tallon’s brutality.” His mouth traced my shoulders, slow, deliberate, guiding me forward so he could press a kiss to unmarred flesh. “You offered yourself to the enemy king.”
“I thought I could pit him against Tallon.” The confession left me on a thin exhale. Each brush of his lips was exquisite torment. Fear coiled tight in my belly, afraid he would find a raw seam and send fire through me, while another part stirred beneath his touch.
“Such lofty aims.” A breath of laughter ghosted over my scarred back. “Only a queen would imagine it. Only a warrior would attempt it.”
A tear slid down my cheek, warm against chilled skin. He forgave me. More than that, he gathered my shame into his own hands as if it belonged there. Relief tasted sweet as honeyed cakes. Each kiss, each word, returned another shard of my fractured heart.
Carefully, he rolled me onto the thick moss edging the pool. The earth smelled damp and green beneath my back. His fingers moved toward the lacing of my trousers.
My thighs snapped together. Pain flashed hot and bright. A hiss tore from my lungs as I arched from the ground, the tender flesh of my thigh protesting.
“Easy.”
His touch fled at once, palms hovering above my legs where they had wrapped around his waist. My vain attempt to block him had, instead, put him in a precarious position.
He waited. Hands off. Eyes fixed on mine.
That wound was the worst. Shallow, barely worth stitches, yet the memory beneath it throbbed like an infected bruise. I hadn’t fought him. I allowed it. How far would it have gone? I would’ve let Egath hold me for another man. Would he have stopped at blood? Shame curdled thick in my veins.
Tears streaked my temples into the moss, and I managed a weak nod.
His palms settled on my knees, and his thumbs traced slow circles, massaging with tender caresses. The touch crept higher with patience, easing over the laces. He loosened them and tugged at the waistband.
Breath locked in my chest as I lifted my hips.
Cloth slid down my legs and pooled in the moss. The bandage around my thigh remained clean, stark against bruised flesh.
But the things it hid…
Gentle fingers peeled it away. He knew looking at the dressing wasn’t enough. No, he needed to see the brutal scabs that lined the cut, how the skin puckered against the neat stitches. Raw ache pulsed there, ugly and undeniable. Only he could ease it.
His fingertips hovered just outside the seam. A whirlstorm gathered in his irises, hatred sparking beneath their surface. His mouth tightened, brows drawn low with restrained fury.
“Who did this?”
