Page 24 of Shadowborne: Reckoning

~ BREN ~

The castle halls were nearly empty in our residential wing. Everyone was still at the ball.

The royal ball we had missed.

I looked at Donavyn, but he kept his eyes ahead, scanning for danger as we hurried through the castle to the rooms we’d been given in the guest wing for those who weren’t of noble bloodlines.

As we stepped inside that door, he stopped to lock it in our wake, then turned to me. But I stepped out of his reach and kept my eyes on the carpet. “I need to wash before… anything,” I said starkly.

“Bren, there will be nothing that… we just need to debrief. Make sure we have our details straight.”

I nodded. “I know.”

He locked eyes with me and I saw the shadows flickering in his gaze, but then he pushed them back. “You clean up first. I’ll send a message to the king to ask forgiveness for our absence.”

I nodded, torn by a rush of relief, at the same time the clench of fear tightened my stomach at the idea of being separated from him. Which made no sense, because I’d just recoiled from the idea of his touch, though I prayed he didn’t know it.

Determined never to let Ruin step between us again, I marched straight to the bathing room to get clean and wash off any last remnant of that bastard. But I shook my head as I walked.

Ruin… I had truly seen Ruin? More than seen him, clashed with him. Fought. He’d smiled, and taunted, and—

It was all so surreal. And yet, the uneasy weight in the pit of my stomach said those events were very, very real indeed.

A moment later, I closed the door to the bathing room and tried to breathe. To focus. Then began to undress.

Thankfully, the Fyrehold castle had baths with the high faucets, like those in Donavyn’s quarters back home. But the massive building meant the water ran cold for minutes before it warmed. As I threw my jacket and shirt into the corner with a shudder, certain they were tainted by that bastard’s touch, I realized I should get the water running, so reached up to open the spout to let it warm. I waited as the chilled flow poured down into the oversized, enamel bath. But reaching into it moments later to feel its temperature placed my bare wrist in my line of sight—and revealed a smudge, the size of a thumb print.

Ruin’s hands on my wrists, twisting my body to turn me—

With a hiss, I yanked my boots and leathers off, throwing them into the corner with the others with a slap, then scrambled into the tall bath, almost falling, then plunged both hands under that freezing flow and scrubbed at them, muttering. I thanked God when the waterflow obscured the marks, but then I drew my hands out and they were still there.

Not just dirt.

Shit. Shit.

—grabbing for the other edge of the mattress, hauling myself forward, but an iron fist clamped on my ankle and jerked me effortlessly back—

My lungs tightened. I swallowed a lump as I looked down and sure enough… another small bruise where the skin was thin over bone.

Heedless of the cold, I planted my body under that frigid flow and grabbed the soap, bending down to wash my ankles and calves… only to find the telltale redness and green rising on the inside of my knees as well.

—flipped onto my back, legs caught in his hands again and pulled ruthlessly apart so Ruin stood between my thighs, hands clamped on my knees, his body bent over mine, pinning me to the bed. I could feel the pressure of his hips—

I whimpered and shook my head. When I wiped my eyes with the back of one wrist, it was already wet, so I only succeeded in making my face wetter.

“He’s not here,” I whispered to myself, clenching my jaw and swallowing more tears. “Get clean. Get out of here. Forget about—” I straightened, giving up on my body, tipping back to get my hair under the water and clawed my fingers through it to rid it of any residue of this night, or those events.

—gripped my hair and yanked my head back—

I sobbed, then hated myself for it. Dropped my face into my hands and just stood there, shivering, the water pouring over me and washing away nothing.

Dammit. Dammit!

“Need to get out of this fucking bath,” I murmured to myself. “Get out and get dry and—”

“Bren?”

I flinched before I registered that it was Donavyn’s deep voice, thick with worry and emotion, shoveling reassurance and love at me through the bond.