Page 24 of Thief of Hearts

“Dagger, make sure he’s behaving,” I said. Dagger promptly turned toward the door and barked at a wall.

I undid my belt, my tunic going loose. I could feel his gaze on me. “Are you watching me?”

“No.”

“Yes, you are.”

When I whirled around, Zain was lying on the bed, his hands behind his head. “If you knew I was watching you, why would you ask?”

“To see if you were capable of telling the truth.”

“I’m capable of it. I just don’t see the point.”

“The point,” I said, “is to be a trustworthy person. You can’t be trusted.”

He shrugged. “The right person could trust me.”

“I don’t understand you. My word is my bond. And your word is meaningless.”

“Not all my words.” Then he let out a playful sigh. “I’ll leave if I must.”

“You must.”

He couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he got up. I flattened myself against the back wall so that he could pass by. When he opened the door, he gave me one last lingering look and then let himself out.

I bolted the door behind him. I quickly shed my clothes and slid the dress on and nearly moaned. The way it felt against my body—the slide of the material was sensuous and delightful.

It also fit perfectly. As if it had been made specifically for me.

What will Zain think when he sees me in this?

I let out a sigh of disgust. What was happening to me?

I was twenty and three years old. Not some naive maiden. I was far past the age where I should be reacting this way to a man. It made me feel out of control.

Maybe the problem was that I had gone too long without a man in my bed. I should fix that at the first opportunity.

Just not with Zain.

He would be dangerous in that regard.

If a different man were saying and doing these things, I would have gutted him a long time ago. Why didn’t it bother me when Zain did them?

This had become personal. I did not lose control, and I was not about to start for some charm and a handsome face. I would win this inner battle, withstand the temptation. I would do well in this tournament and he would not distract me from my win.

Sleep deprivation was a torture method for a reason. That explained it. I hadn’t slept well for days and I was sleep deprived. Once I was able to get a full night’s rest, I would be myself again.

That would solve everything.

I reluctantly changed back into my tunic. I needed a bath. I opened the door and expected to see Zain lounging against a wall, but he wasn’t there. I began walking down the hallway and heard the men laughing and splashing in the baths. That didn’t seem a particularly safe place for me to go.

Especially since I didn’t know what the rules of the tournament were for killing a fellow competitor because they groped you. I wouldn’t want to get kicked out.

So I went back to the only place I had seen women—the laundry. The workers had all left for the day and I investigated until I found a washroom I could use to bathe. I didn’t have time to heat the water, so it would have to be cold. My baths usually were.

But when I turned the faucet, hot water came streaming out. How was this accomplished? Magic?

I didn’t care. I squeezed into the tub, barely fitting. I scrubbed my body and my hair as best I could and rinsed off. I got out and dried myself, combing out my hair. Not wanting the damp tendrils to ruin the dress, I put it up in a messy braid, winding it around my head and pinning it into place.