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IWOKE WITH A DULL ACHEall over my body. I was no longer in pain, but I was tender. My head was heavy as I came into consciousness. My body was stiff, rigid like I’d been lying still for hours. Days. I tried to sit up, but something held my body to the table.
No, not the table.
There was no longer anything hard against my legs. Instead, I was floating. I opened my eyes, blinking as they adjusted to the soft light from a nearby torch. I was in a small pool, my legs and torso wrapped in a moist plant.
The coolness of it soothed my skin. I lifted one of my arms out of the water. It too was wrapped in thin strips of the turquoise plant. I reached out to touch it. It was tacky and soft. Purple liquid oozed out and onto my finger. My fingertip tingled before dissipating into a soothing chill.
I pulled back the layers on my arm. Small red marks dotted my skin where the shrapnel had pierced the flesh. They had already closed and lay flat. I doubted I’d have any scars from the explosion.
Scars.
The names on my arms looked the same as ever. Thin lines swirling along my skin. None of them had vanished. Even in the places where shrapnel had sliced the skin, the scars remained. Shining through the redness like nothing had happened.
I pulled at the ribbons of plant, tugging them off my other arm. Then legs. Then chest. Every name I’d ever carved remained. Pristine, like the explosion had never happened at all. I sighed and leaned back in the pool, floating in my relief. One attempt at sacrificing myself did not make up for the lives I’d taken.
My back bumped into the side of the pool. A thin sheet of the plant slid off. I didn’t remember getting hit on my back, but the healer would have checked my entire body. She must have seen those scars too.
I stripped back each layer until nothing was left. Just my skin. There was no mirror to see from, and even then, the torchlight was too dim. I wrapped my arms around myself, my fingers stroking my skin as I felt the familiar grooves along my back. I checked my hip and sighed. All my scars were accounted for.
I dipped back into the water. The discarded ribbons sat in a heap at the edge of the pool. Their sticky residue still clung to my skin.
I spotted a bottle of soap next to the pool and grabbed it, eager to wash off the remaining tackiness from my bandages. I pulled out the glass topper encrusted with a blue jewel. I held it under my nose, closing my eyes as I inhaled the scent of birch. I could just make out the tiny lettering along the bottle. I recognized it from the merchant cart in Cereliath. I smiled as I poured the liquid over my shoulders. Riven must have purchased it without me seeing.
I doused my body and hair in the bubbles, reveling in being clean. I rinsed, studying the room. If it even was a room. It had no door and was merely another part of the cave, but it felt private with the single, narrow entrance.
There were two other pools of water besides the one I was in. Each were empty. I hoped that meant that Nikolai and Syrra were safe and healthy. There was a chair next to my pool with a book sitting on the seat. A burnt torch handle was holstered in the wall behind it. Someone had been watching over me while I rested.
Next to the chair was a blanket and some clothes. Presumably for me. But I wasn’t ready to get dressed yet. Once I stepped out of this room, I would be focused on the next part of the plan. Ensuring that the Crown fell.
I still wanted the Crown to fall. But after—after a moment of peace for myself.
I pulled my arms to the edge of the pool and rested my head on them. I could just touch the rocky bottom with my toes, back curving out of the water. The cool air felt refreshing on my skin after being wrapped for so long. The coolness stroked my back as my breaths slowed against my arm.
I was drifting back to sleep. Perhaps I did and that’s why I didn’t hear him approach.
Riven gasped, holding a torch in his hand.
He had full view of my back and shoulders.
I didn’t move to cover myself beneath the water. The usual panic didn’t pound against my chest. Instead, a wave of relief washed over me, bringing with it a strange sense of peace. Now he knew. I didn’t have to hide anymore. The truth was in the open. The proof that the king had turned me into a monster.
“Now you know a secret of mine,” I said with more vigor than I felt. I didn’t turn my head to meet Riven’s gaze. It’d been so long since I had let anyone see my full body. Years. Decades. And in that time the scars had creeped from my back over my shoulders and down my arms in winding spirals. I didn’t just feel naked. I felt exposed.
I pulled myself out of the pool and turned to face him. Water poured down my body, covering the rock edge. I didn’t try to conceal any part of myself. Showing Riven my scars felt much more intimate than showing him my nakedness.
He stood a few feet from me, his hair loose and unkempt. “What are they?” His voice was barely a whisper.
I squared my shoulders and fought the urge to cross my arms. “Names.”
“Names?” he echoed, his brows knotting together. I lifted my chin, forcing myself to meet his gaze. His violet eyes were tracing over my limbs, my chest. Taking in every line I’d etched into my skin like he was reading me.
He held the torch above his head, devouring the swirls of names over and over like I was a letter he needed to understand. An excerpt of prose he cherished. “Why names?” he asked, taking a step forward.
The answer caught in my throat at the softness of his voice, the gentleness in his eyes. I’d always seen my scars as something terrible but Riven stared at my skin like they were a thing of beauty.
“They’re the names of every innocent I’ve ever killed.” I swallowed. “I cut them into my skin, so I carry them with me always.” Riven closed the space between us. I surprised myself by standing my ground. I didn’t pull away from his touch as his finger gently traced the wave of tiny names that started on my right shoulder and crested over my chest. His touch left behind a trail of fire along my skin that hitched my breath.
“They look like waves,” he whispered, tracing his finger back along the same path. “And here...” His hand moved down the length of my arms. “These look like flames.”
