Page 45 of Kingdom Of Veil And Vow

Leading Grayson to a small basin tub, I set the buckets down and then pocket the flame gem, gently massaging my palms from the indentations left by the handles. Setting his own buckets down, he looks from the tub to the food left by Tienne on some overturned crates on the opposite side of the room. “You’re giving the shifter a bath and dinner?” I hear the amusement in his tone before I see the smile that splits his lips. “And you had the audacity to make fun of my imagination.”

Ignoring him, I lift the first bucket and pour it into the tub, followed by the second. Moving out of the way, Grayson does the same with his buckets, and I’m pleased to see it filled high enough that Bella should be comfortable. Grayson chuckles under his breath, drawing my attention over my shoulder. “What?”

“Nothing, son,” he muses, clapping his hand on my shoulder. “Just remember the objective here. Remember what brought you to this point in time.” I want to scoff, to bite back that I know what I’m doing. That this is nothing more than building trust so that I can find out if Princess Rhea is a threat. Find out what her magic is capable of. But he beats me to it. “Remember your rules.” With a final squeeze of my shoulder, he departs back through the tunnels.

Shutting my eyes, I take a deep breath and refocus my thoughts. My intentions. I won’t get distracted. But my fingers tremble slightly as I lift the silver domed lid to the serving tray on the table, grabbing one of the parchment-wrapped packs on it. Grayson’s just in my head. I know where my priorities lie. I know what I must do. Opening the second hidden door to the room, I duck and reach my free hand up to the ceiling, holding my breath against the scent of stagnant water and trapped air. The walk is short, and I relax further when the expected silence greets me in the torture room.

Passing the final door, I enter the dark hallway, Bella’s cell straight ahead. She’s sitting on the edge of her cot, those golden-hued eyes already trained in my direction. She doesn’t move as I walk towards her, though she tips her nose up and sniffs the air, her gaze moving to what I’m holding. I wonder just how strong her sense of smell is in this form, and a slight heat creeps over me at the idea that she might be able to smell me more intently than any mortal. Passing her cell, I walk right to Immie’s, grateful to find that the old woman is asleep. Stretching my arm between the bars, I drop the package of food onto her cot. Back in front of Bella’s cell, I find her standing, arms braced at her hips and— Fucking gods. I bite down hard on the inside of my cheek at the sight of her in my tunic, her pale hair draped over one shoulder in smooth but messy waves.

I stare, wondering how it’s possible that her hair has become such a beacon for my attention until she tilts her head, and I lock eyes with her. “You’re okay?” I ask her, if only to cut the tension that feels so unmistakable between us.

Her gaze falls to where my hand has already begun to reach behind me to the ring of keys looped on my belt. “Yes.” She takes a step closer, and my stomach drops. “Are you?”

“I…” My throat works, and words uselessly hang from my tongue, and I try to think of anything else but the way my tunic drapes around her body. How she’s left the top few buttons undone. How the hem lays over her golden-tanned skin.

“Xander.”

Shit. “Fine. I mean, I am fine.” If there is a hell, surely it would have swallowed me up by now. “I have something for you.” Your rules. Remember your rules. I take a few seconds to get myself under control while I grab the ring of keys and sort through the many that hang from it until I find the right one. By the time I unlock the door, I’ve rebuilt my defenses.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

Taking a step back, I gesture for her to exit the cell. “As I said, I have something for you.”

Brows drawing together, she studies me and then the still-open door to the torture room behind me. “You can’t possibly believe I’m stupid enough to let you take me into that room.”

“I don’t think you’re stupid at all, and I’m not going to torture you, Bella.”

Unconvinced, she presses her hands against the front of her thighs. “Surely, whatever it is, you can show me here.”

Clicking the key ring back into place on my belt, I shake my head. “I can’t, and we don’t have time to argue about it. You’re going to have to trust me.”

Her mouth falls open, shock and anger warring over her face. The shake of her head is quick as she takes a single step backwards. I don’t blame her hesitance, but the last thing I need is for a prisoner to spot me trying to let her out of her cell, and the longer we converse about it, the more likely that will be.

“Please,” I add, the word practically a whisper.

Lips pressing together, she weighs her options—of which, admittedly, there are only two—but I see the moment she finally relents, her shoulders sagging under the weight of the unavoidable. “Fine. But if you even think about torturing me, I swear to the gods I will ensure it is the last thing you ever do.” Tentatively, she makes her way to me, just as a prisoner’s voice shouts out.

“Guard! Guard!”

I don’t think he can clearly see me, but if he realizes she is just walking out of her cell, that will surely make its way back to the king. With only seconds to spare, I wait until Bella is within reach and clamp a hand down on her arm, ignoring the way betrayal filters into her gaze, and then haul her out of the cell.

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Xander

“You liar!” she screams, kicking a foot out as she claws at my hand. I hiss at the contact her nails make but continue forward. She screams again, the sound tinged with not just anger but fear, the jerks of her body desperate.

Does she really believe I am going to hurt her? Her fingers tug at my keys, and I quickly spin and draw her to me, her back hitting my chest as I cross her arms in front of her. Picking her up, I walk the rest of the way down the corridor, narrowly managing to avoid her kicking feet or attempts to throw her head back. Once we are past the door, I drop her to the floor, the faint floral scent of her hair lingering near my nose.

“What the hell—”

“You’re as subtle as a damn mountain,” I snap, shutting the door behind us.

“You told me you weren’t going to torture me—”

“Does it look like I’m going to?” I ask, throwing my hands out to the side. “Do most torture sessions begin with the guard letting the prisoner walk around freely, easily able to grab the myriad of weapons hanging from the walls?”

She stares at me as her chest heaves, turning over my words. “Then why did you grab me?”

“Because you aren’t the only prisoner, and I’m not the only guard that patrols this dungeon. If anyone were to even hint to one of my companions that I had willingly freed you from your cell, no matter the reason, we’d both be dead.” Her pulse flutters at the base of her neck, right above the collar of my shirt. “I needed it to look like you were fighting against me.” I throw my hand up in front of her, the scratches she left now shallow welts dotted with blood. It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask her what it will take for her to trust me, but I keep the words behind my teeth. Were our positions switched, would I trust anything coming out of her mouth? Knowing she was oathed to the king? Even though she had all but confirmed her disapproval of him?