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The princess gave her a knowing look as they continued down the glass corridor, passing more of the frantic preparations for the masquerade ball. ‘I can’t imagine how difficult this past year has been for you.’
‘I have certainly missed hot baths,’ Thea joked weakly, desperate to get to her rooms and think.
‘That’s not what I meant,’ Princess Jasira said. ‘Do you want to talk about him?’
‘Who?’
‘Wilder Hawthorne.’ The princess gave a sigh. ‘I know the pain of losing someone as you did…’
‘Your Highness —’
‘Jasi,’ the princess corrected firmly. ‘There was a man, after my mother passed away,’ she offered quietly. ‘He helped me through my grief, shared it with me. We… we fell in love.’
Thea trained her gaze ahead, realising that the princess might never have uttered those words aloud to anyone. Judging from her tone, the tale did not end happily, which likely meant the man in question hadn’t been an appropriate match for a princess. The irony of these thoughts was not lost on Thea, given the secret heritage she harboured herself.
‘But a few months after we’d told each other how we felt, he…’ The princess faltered for a moment. ‘He confessed there was someone else, that what he’d felt for me had been fleeting.’
Thea baulked. ‘I’m so sorry.’
Princess Jasira gave a grim smile. ‘Mother always told me I was too open with my heart. That I would learn the hard way before long to guard it closely.’ She sniffed. ‘There was something similar between you and the fallen Warsword, wasn’t there? There were rumours last spring in Harenth. People saw you together at the Laughing Fox.’
The image of Hawthorne chained up in that freezing cell hit her like a fist to the gut. ‘He wasn’t who I thought he was.’
Jasira squeezed her arm in solidarity. The princess’ kindness struck a nerve in Thea. In the past year, she hadn’t shared her struggles with a single soul. Cal and Kipp were her friends, her best friends, but… she hadn’t shared her heart with them. They weren’t Wren, they weren’t Sam and Ida from the fortress. Stunned, she realised that it had been over six years since she’d cried with Wren on the clifftops of Thezmarr about Evander, the stable master’s apprentice – and that she hadn’t shed a single tear for Wilder Hawthorne.
Princess Jasira drew to a stop outside a door covered in gold filigree. She leant in and gave Thea a hug. Thea winced as the fine gown made contact with her grimy clothes.
Jasira pulled back and looked at her. ‘You just captured a fallen Warsword,’ she said, a note of reproach in her voice. ‘You need rest. And then, you’re allowed to enjoy yourself. The ball will do you good. Drink sparkling wine. Dance with a handsome stranger… Watch the miracle of the eclipse. Know that you were part of our triumph over the dark.’
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
THEA
In a daze, Thea paced the quarters she’d been given. The last time she’d been in rooms this grand had been in Harenth, with Wilder… The opulence of it all was similar to the palace in Hailford – an enormous four-poster bed with elegant drapes, a sitting area before a fireplace and a view of the kingdom to die for.
‘Use your words, Princess… What do you want?’
His voice came to her in a whisper, tickling the shell of her ear. She felt his phantom caress along her neck, her collarbone, her sternum… Her mind became a tangled web of their moments together; intimate touches and softly spoken promises.
‘Because I fucking love you.’
Thea barely registered her movements as she entered the bathing chamber, removing her soiled armour and clothing in a trance, recalling how Wilder had washed her hair when she was injured, those long fingers massaging soap into her scalp and tending to her wound.
Wilder.When had he become Wilder again? Rather than Hawthorne?
The water in the tub was tepid after her delay, but she didn’t care. Her skin was hot from the memory of their kiss in the stables. She had been drunk on the taste of him.
‘I’ll never stop being yours.’
An unexpected sob escaped Thea and she smacked her palms into the water. How had this happened? How had things got so twisted? And how could she bear the thought of him chained up like an animal in the cold?
He had been someone to her. He had beeneverythingto her.
Panic inched its way into her body, gripping every muscle painfully, making her head tight with tension. She scrubbed at her skin until it was pink and raw, until the water was cold enough to drive her from it. With her mind still churning through the past year, the last few days in particular, she dressed in a plain pair of pants and a linen shirt. Towelling her hair dry, her stomach roiling with unease, she emerged from the bathing room to find Cal and Kipp waiting for her on the settee by the window.
‘You saw him?’ Kipp said instantly.
Wordlessly, she nodded.
