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Daethian snorted and closed himself in the bathroom. Turning about, I looked for a spot to sit, but nearly everything was covered with something. Daethian sure was cute, but damn, he did not know how to pick up after himself.
“So how are you feeling?” I asked Randsin, whose irises remained drained as he anticipated our conversation. Last I had seen of him, he was being dragged away to this room, his head lolled to the side and his body unable to hold itself up. Blood had dripped from long, terrifying cuts over his torso, and his face was beat up well enough that he was barely recognizable.
“I’ve always hated King Ganglin for what he turned me into, almost as much as I loved him for acting like a father to me.” His full lips turned down. “But I don’t think a father would do what he did to me. Not that I have much of a reference.”
One hand lifted and pulled at the collar of his shirt. Dark tattoos were broken by pink and white scars. The images that had been in his skin were not distinguishable through the long jagged cuts.
“No, you’re right, fathers don’t do that. Not if they love you. But I don’t think King Ganglin knows how to love.” I thought back to my own father. It was like I had only had him for a second of my life. Twelve years with him hadn’t been enough. But I knew my father had been good to me and Hattie. Many memories of him letting us braid his hair, or him dancing with us when mother had bid us goodnight came to mind. He had always fiercely protected us. Until he and Mother got sick. They both passed away in the night, leaving me and Hattie to learn how to live in a world that didn’t include them.
Resigning myself to gathering Daethian’s laundry into a heap, I started picking up the clothes that littered the floor. “You should try and get out of this room and get some fresh air. This stink will poison you.”
“These Nymphs don’t want to see me.” His voice nearly quivered inside my head. “I’m a bad memory of the orders King Ganglin had me carry out. I did everything he asked and it was never enough.”
I glanced at the door where the water ran and Daethian cleaned himself, wondering if Randsin had shared any of this with him. Randsin looked more exhausted than sad, like all his years of effort had finally caught up to him. His normally perfect posture sagged against the chair.
Sometimes when I looked at him, all I saw was his whip. All I felt was the sting of the scars along my back. He was right; Randsin was an open wound to nearly everyone here. He may have saved my life from the gallows, he may have owed King Windre a favor, but in the beginning, he had been on the wrong side of this war. At least it looked like he regretted that decision now.
I lifted the heaping pile of laundry I’d gathered and dropped it into one pile near the door, “Let me clean this place up a little for you.”
“Daethian will just ruin it tomorrow,” he sighed. “Kid is a tornado of disaster, leaving a mess wherever he goes.”
The bathroom door swung open, steam rolling out from the heat. Daethian leaned against the door frame in brown leather pants, a white button-up, and a yellow embroidered brown jacket. His hair was still wet and dangled into his eyes, water dripping to his cheeks.
“How do I look?” He opened his hands and did a small spin.
I wanted to say he almost looked like Dace, if only he had a sheer shirt on to reveal his toned abs. Daethian was a bit more modest than Dace, though I wouldn’t dare say any of those thoughts that came to mind.
“Should I go change? You look absolutely dashing and suddenly what I’m wearing is not enough.” I gave him my full attention, letting him bask in the way I watched him. It was hard to not appreciate what he was building here, but I only wanted to look and congratulate him on his hard work. I did not want to touch. That was the difference.
“You look perfect. Come on.” He darted forward, grabbing my hand with his still damp palm as he went. His steps stopped before the door as he pointed to the gathered laundry. “Did you pick up?”
“I couldn’t look at this disaster any longer and stand by and let it continue.” I met Randsin’s pitiful gaze, those eyes now a deep dark brown, and offered a small smile as Daethian pulled open the door and led me out.
In the hall, I slipped my hand out of Daethian’s and let my arms hang at my sides. Nervous butterflies tickled my stomach as I thought about how I was going to tell Daethian about Dace’s proposition. He wasn’t going to like the news. I could already picture his face dropping. The thought of making him feel that way twisted my gut. But if I knew Daethian like I thought I did from our years together, he would tell me that it was my choice how to live my life now that I was free. Just like the picture he used to always paint me in the stables about what our lives would be like after all this was done. Because we both knew one day it would be.
“Where are we going?” I glanced down the hall, pointing out that the dining hall was in the opposite direction.
“It didn’t sound like you wanted to eat with everyone last time we talked. So, I thought maybe a little bit of alone time would do us some good. Just you, me, and some food that isn’t cabbage fucking soup.Almostlike old times.”
Those old times were tainted with pain and misery. These would be new memories, happy memories.
“And where might we be eating then?”
“In here.” He stopped and pushed open the door to yet another room wrecked by our rampage. It had been a bedroom, one it looked like someone was currently using. But all the furniture had been pushed aside so a spot was cleared for a small table and chairs. The curtains were open, with a view of the sun that was beginning to set in the clouds of pink and orange. Candles glowed from every available surface, including one candle on the table that was already filled with steaming food.
“Daethian,” I warned, “why does this look like a date?”
“Does it look like a date?” He winked. “I just thought that maybe it would be more relaxing with the candles.” He pulled me forward, even as part of me was screaming to run out of the room. The legs of the chair he pulled out for me scraped noisily against the floor. His large hands gently pushed my shoulders down into the seat. I shot him a warning glare, but he only smiled in return.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I warned again. “I’ve told you we are just friends.”
“And this is just a friendly dinner. Though,” he picked up a wine bottle and poured some into the glass in front of me, “I’ve been thinking.”
“It’s never good when you do that.”
Daethian chuckled, handing me my glass, and began filling his own. “Don’t you think we work so well together?”
“As friends, yes.” I took a sip of the sweet red wine.
