Page 93 of Spring Guardians & Songbirds

Snow lifted a hand, stopping him again. “Sober, Princeling. If I catch you drinking—”

“I won’t drink, Snow, not when I am looking for them,” my brother said, and he had not lied.

Snow bathed and returned wearing a shirt of mine after refusing to put on any Adriatian attire my servants had brought. She’d perched on the edge of our bed, frowning at the Ahmes Lore pages. Scribbling all sorts of madness on a sheet of paper and possibly preparing to ask me to translate them for her even though we’d agreed on the dangers if the copies ending up in the wrong hands.

I was mid-shave when she pranced inside the bathing chambers and jumped to sit on the sink facing me. “Why was Oryn banished?”

“No one knows for sure. Larg said he was quite controversial in his preaching.”

“In Adriatian tongue that translates to: went against popular belief.”

“Possibly.”

“Enough of agreeing with me on everything.”

“I do agree with what you just said, not on everything.” My hand shook for a moment and then I nicked my cheek with the blade.

Snow sucked in a sharp breath and jumped from the counter to grab the towel which she quickly put over the broken skin pebbling with blood. “Why are your hands shaking?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Henrik, why are your hands shaking?” she demanded louder, and slowly some realisation set in. “Take off your shirt.”

I raised a brow at her. “Love, we ought to start slower.”

She rolled her eyes and quickly caught my shirt and undid its buttons. Her stare doubled in size when she took in all the bandage still over my wounds. “Why have you not healed?”

“I have,” I said, attempting to close the buttons back again despite the tremble of my hands. “It will take a while apparently. The thing’s essence clung to me—to my own magical essence.”

She took my hand. “Fade us to Taren, let’s go see Visha.”

“Snow—”

She pointed a finger at me, her expression turning thunderous. “I’ll tie you to that valley with the rest. You will not die from a measly wound, Your Majesty. You will first see real suffering. From my hands.”

“I am sure that will go to your plan, love,” I assured her. “And I will see Visha but let me finish this.”

She hopped on the sink counter and grabbed the blade, running it under water for a bit. “I’ll do it.” Her legs parted and she gestured her chin for me to reach closer. “Don’t be shy now, Henrik. Come here.”

I might just like that blessed name now.

Sliding between her parted thighs, I braced on the counter, leaning a bit so she could reach me easily.

“Close your eyes,” she said. “You’re too close to my face, it’s distracting me.”

“Distracting you?”

“Yes, you irk me like that. I might just slip and cut an eyeball out.”

“Is that so?” I shut my eyes and then felt her gentle hand on my cheek while she slid the blade down my face with the other. Her fingertips scanned my skin, leaving light touches everywhere.

Fuck. She smelled like me. “You used my soap?”

“Mhm.”

“Are you wearing my underwear, too?”

“Should I have worn Mal’s?”