Page 122 of Ashborne Forged

To my horror, there was the snap of a flint and when I instinctively jerked to look, I found Breckon standing, fully naked, alongside the nearby tub, lighting a cigar. He took a long draw, puffing it out with a smile as he stepped into the next tub, and smoked while he soaked, watching me.

Leering.

I sat in the bath, praying that he was low enough now that his view was obscured by the side of my bath, yet mortified, because he openly watched while the servant scrubbed every inch of my body, just as he’d instructed her to do.

Then, she urged me to lie down and arch my head back so she could wash my hair.

The only way to get my head back far enough to be washed properly was to hold the sides of the tub in my hands and use them to hold my weight. But my shoulders were so sore, and my body so stiff, at first I couldn’t even lean back.

Breckon, of course, was certain I was only trying to avoid baring myself, and swore.

“Either be washed, or stand at the fire to dry before my eyes,” he growled.

I swallowed, whispered for the maid to please support my neck as I couldn’t yet bend it back very well, then closed my eyes tightly, and arched backward, holding the tub, refusing to watch him look at me.

But I could feel his eyes on my body, and it made me shake.

Once my hair was clean, and I could straighten, I was forced to open my eyes to take a new grip on the tub to lift myself.

Breckon’s eyes were avid. Hungry.

It struck me that the same blaze in Voski’s gaze burned my insides to ash and made me want. But in Breckon, it turned my stomach, and made me ill.

My saving grace was a knock on the door.

The maid who’d taken my leathers stepped inside, her brows rising when she found the Lord in the bath alongside me, but she didn’t speak, only hurried to curtsey politely.

“My Lord,” she said breathlessly, “There is a messenger downstairs who claims the missive is urgent, and sent from Vosgaarde.”

My heart skipped. Voski? The queen?

“Bring the missive to me.”

“The messenger has been charged with placing it in your hands directly, sir,” the maid murmured without meeting his eyes.

Breckon swore again, pushed to his feet once more, the bathwater tinkling and splashing as he stood, adjusted himself, then stepped out on the mat the maid laid down for him.

“Do not let her move freely,” he muttered through his teeth, gripping the cigar in his lips, and wrapping the towel around his waist once more. Then he raised his voice, though the door was open and the guards outside could have heard him the first time. “Do not let her move freely. Escort her directly to her chambers, then await my instruction. Bring her any food or clothing she might wish—other than a weapon. But do not leave her presence until I have seen her and given orders.”

A servant hurried in with a robe which he shrugged on, muttering. As soon as he disappeared into the hallway, one of the guards leaned forward to grasp the door and pull it closed. I covered myself and breathed until the door latched. Then I slumped.

But the maid immediately leaned over me. “Quickly. Quickly. We don’t have much time. If you’re still here when he returns, it could go badly for you,” she whispered, her lips right next to my ear as she urged me to my feet and wrapped a towel around me. “I put the herbs and blade where he said, but replaced the blade with a dull one from the kitchen. You’ll find yours under the mattress in your chambers. But you will need to move it from there and find a better hiding spot. I didn’t have time.”

I nodded, shocked and helped her dry me. “Why would you help me?” I breathed when we were both bent over to dry my legs.

“Because he’s a bastard, and no one should have to be touched by him who didn’t invite it.”

I blinked and straightened with her. She met my eyes for a moment, then picked up the white, folded garment and shook it out.

I stood there, dumbly, as I realized this woman had likely been raped—or at the very least, her privacy violated—and was attempting to help me avoid the same fate.

“You’re—”

“There’s no time. Quickly!”

She threw the long nightdress over my head and helped me get my arms into the sleeves, then tied it high at my throat, and hurried me toward the door. But I pulled her to a stop before she reached it.

“Wait—”