She motions to the hot tub, steam still rising into the cramped room. Hesitation stalls my limbs, but the thought of warm water clears it away. Without a word, I strip down to all of my pale glory and bound over to the awaiting oasis. The woman keeps true to her word, averting her eyes and busying herself with vials of soap and inviting scents. As I slip into the water, I can’t help the audible sigh that fills the air. Pure heaven relaxes my tired bones. Leaning back, I let myself pretend I am home in Ashen, and at any moment, Darcy will march in and fuss that if I soak much longer, I’ll be nothing but a prune.
“Don’t go taking too much of a fancy to us now, girl. It’s a one-week limit around here, and we don’t waste time boiling this water for just anybody.”
Her words are meant to be harsh, but I find myself giving a soft smile in response. She’s Darcy, The Lost version, and despite myself, I couldn’t be happier. My smile must startle her because she stops talking after that, busying herself with various soaps to immerse in the water. For one silly moment, I wonder if Cil really could have snuck poison into one of those vials.
Dunking my head under the warm water, letting the flower-scented soaps gently wash all the dirt and grime from my weathered skin, I decide it would be worth it anyway.
Thirty-Three
I stare into the dingy mirror by the small nightstand in my room, my eyes wide and unsure as I take in the dark waves that seem to float softly past my shoulders. A single braid wraps around the right side of my face and falls seamlessly together with the loose strands in the back. Aside from the day Sara fixed my hair to meet our Orien guests, this is the prettiest it has ever looked. The deep green of my borrowed tunic and soft linen pants bring out the vibrant color in my eyes, and for once, I’m not afraid of the lost little girl who stares back. Rachel, the woman who helped me with my glorious bath, smiles widely from behind. The reflection makes her look younger. Happy.
“Let’s just see what that Aras thinks about this, shall we?” She laughs, and I look away with a sheepish smile of my own.
“Well, at least we know he can’t fall back on his usual remarks,” I say, rising from the mirror and turning to face the room.
“Oh, I’m sure he’ll still have plenty of remarks, miss, just not the usual,” she teases.
I twitch, hoping to goodness what she says can’t be true. I’ve had enough embarrassing situations for one day. “All of which I’ll be sure to let go in one ear and out the other, I assure you.”
She grins, patting me with a strong arm that sends me sideways. “A smart one, you are. It gives me peace knowing that there are still young women like you running about. You’re hard to fool and careful to trust. If only they were all like you.”
I smile, ducking my head at her gentle praise. If only she knew in my real life that I’m easy to fool and quick to trust. It’s how I often get myself into questionable situations on a daily basis. Questionable situations like the one with Aras.
The clean hair and fresh tunic must do wonders for my façade.
“Well, enough of that,” she says, breaking away and moving back to clean up the tub. “You’ve got to get yourself down to supper, and goodness knows you’ve kept him waiting.”
I shrug, slowly dragging my boots across to the closed door. “Trust me when I say that I’m sure Aras has found plenty of things to occupy his time.”
“Maybe,” she allows, “but nothing as good as you.”
A true smile slides its way across my worried face, and I stop, determined not to let her good deeds go unnoticed. “Thank you,” I say. “And not just for the warm water.”
She doesn’t turn, choosing to busy herself with the cleanup, but I catch her small smile in the mirror’s reflection. It’s enough for me. Taking a deep breath, I reach for the door.
ↄ
It takes several minutes for my sluggish feet to make their way down the stairs and toward the open dining room, and several more for me to build up the courage to actually enter. For the first time since this afternoon, my fingers begin to tingle and I feel the beads of sweat as they form a line across my brow. The same loud voices and obnoxious laughs hint of trouble, and my stomach clenches at the thought of what might be waiting for me when I finally will myself to move. Aras never said what our cover story for staying here was and because Rachel never asked, it hasn’t crossed my mind until now. Strictly judging from our past experiences, his ability to weave a story has been subpar at best, and it’s that worrying thought that keeps my boots stuck firmly in place.
“Aras has been waiting,” a soft voice says from behind. I jump, catching myself on the wide frame that leads down a narrow hall to the room.
My head twists back, and my heart sinks when I’m greeted with Cil and all of her blonde-headed glory. Even cleaned up, I’m nothing but a tattered doll next to her and her vibrant beauty. When she looks up, her brown eyes meet mine in a resigned sort of way. I immediately recognize that they’ve lost their spark. Belatedly, I remember that Aras has had at least an hour on his own since our last encounter. It’s not questionable that he would seek her out and try to mend their misunderstandings.
My chest deflates, and suddenly, I feel even worse than I did when I first stalled out at this entryway. At least then, I was just wallowing in my own pain. Now I’m knee deep in another’s. My fingers throb with a frightening jolt, and I squeeze them tight around the wooden frame. I don’t even realize I’m moving until I feel the tug of my free arm and the whisper of her voice as my fingers pry away from the wood.
“Come on,” she says, leading me down the hall. “It’s not that bad. Trust me. I’ve endured it for ages.”
And just like that, my reluctant feet are moving of their own accord, bringing me right into the beating heart of this secret house. As we make our way around the dark corner, laughter fills the air like a palpable force that threatens to reach out and push me away. The voices continue until I’m all but in the center of the low-lit, crowded room, and then they simply cease to exist. The sudden silence stuns my ears, and my eyes bounce about the dim room for a familiar face, but they come up as empty as my arm. Cil is nowhere in sight. My boots start to shuffle back as if this is all one horrible mistake, when an annoyingly flawless voice rings through the room.
“Speak of the sun and here she rises!” Aras says, bounding up to me with a bright smile and his arms open wide. He wraps me up into a big hug, our chests slamming together and taking my breath. “Men…” He beams, turning to the crowd before us and gesturing proudly with his hand. “Let me introduce you to Bravest, my wife.”
A roar fills the thick air, so loud I can hear it over the rush of blood pounding in my ears. I feel myself start to tip back, my heels digging into the floor and resuming my messy escape. Aras must notice the sudden tension coiling like a band across my chest because his arms wrap me up once more into an even tighter embrace. My face is shoved into his shoulder, my eyes just barely able to peek over and notice the spinning of the room. I squeeze them shut, my breath catching as Aras tilts his head down until the tips of his soft, wayward curls brush against my cheek with a calming caress. His careful hands slide up my back until they meet the black, wavy strands that rest neatly in place, as if they’ve waited all of their dreary life just to be touched by him.
A sigh of content falls across his chest, and I hear the smile in his whisper as it brushes my cheek. “I forgot how gorgeous you look when you’re clean.”
Stunned, my body freezes in place, not yet willing to acknowledge that for once, Aras’ backhanded comment may not come from a place of tease, but from a place of truth. Carefully, and uncomfortably aware of the eyes around us, I slowly pull back from his embrace, catching his face lightly between my hands. His blue eyes brim over with an emotion I’ve never seen as they roam over my features, gentle and consuming all the same.
It takes more than a moment for my lips to catch up to my brain. “Aras? Are you alright?”
My words come out in a desperate force and
his arms tense around my back. I’m worried that I’ve said the wrong thing, ruined this well-played charade, when a wolfish grin lights up his frustratingly handsome face. “Oh, I am. I’m the very best of alright now that you’re here.”
My eyes widen and my mouth moves to work, but it’s all for nothing as he breaks away, a flood of cool air hitting my flushed cheeks with a violent shock. The room around me finally comes into focus, and I’m met with the dark eyes of strange men grown even darker with suspicion. One of Aras’ hands calmly trails down my limp arm, latching onto my sweaty palm as if he knows I’m about to bolt.
Curse him for unearthing all of my secrets.
“Men,” he boasts, motioning to the crowd, “I think this calls for a celebration!”
Whoops and cheers assault my ears, and despite my resolve to remain calm and convincing, my eyes widen in the most telling of ways. I’m way in over my head, they seem to say. And also, I’m a bad liar.
Thankfully, before many can notice, Aras moves with the force of a bull, dragging me across the room toward one of the booths lined against the wall. A shuttered window is situated above the dingy, wooden tabletop like a frightening omen that none come in and none come out. Even the elusive forest light isn’t welcome here.
When we finally make it to the table, an older man with brown, stringy hair and a matching shaggy beard stares up at us with a smile that looks more like a warning than a welcoming. I try to feign a smile back, but I have a feeling my effort is not very convincing. Aras motions his hand for me to scoot in first, and begrudgingly, I follow his demand. After his wild behavior, I was hoping for a moment alone, and the new friend before us looks like an all-too-willing participant in the uncomfortable conversation that is about to unfold. Unsure of what to do, I grab the crook of Aras’ arm and pull him in close as soon as he hits the hard bench. He lets out a happy laugh, tilting his head down toward me with an unfairly brilliant smile. I respond with a shy smile and a shrug of my own, fully aware of the eyes that now watch our every move.
“You seem to be a good match,” the stranger says, intrigue lining his voice.
Not wanting to chance our luck, my eyes dart away and take in the rest of the room, content to let Aras take the lead. From the looks of it, this place isn’t used to seeing women. At least not in the traveling sense. There are plenty of girls who move around the room, taking orders and bringing out trays of steaming soups and bread. For the most part, they are prim and proper in their out-of-place, puffy shirts, but every now and then, one of them will laugh at the words of a particularly cunning patron, earning brazen smiles in return. In fact, their willing involvement confuses me. Do all of these women work in exchange for a home within these walls, and is that what Aras meant when he said that my mother was helping them? If only we had this bench to ourselves and I could grill my partner until he melts.
A quiet chuckle fills the air, and I look up, startled to find all eyes on me. The stranger’s green eyes alight with amusement and a smile twists on his face. “I said that I hope you can help Aras stay out of trouble. Orien is a dangerous place, even for the favorite son.”
Aras scoffs, pulling my hand forward as he leans into what’s left of his soup. “So says the fool who got himself caught,” he says, dipping his bread into the creamy mixture before him.
I stiffen, but the man across from us just chuckles, leaning back to relax with his arms across the booth behind him. “Only a fool can’t see where his decisions will lead him, Aras. I knew good and well where my path would take me. It’s those who refuse to see the future that often fall the hardest.” He pauses, leaning back on the table and reaching across the cramped booth to place a warning hand on Aras’ wrist. “Things will be different for you now without the queen. Perhaps you and your new wife should head for Theron. It’s what I would do.”
Aras’ head whips up, the bread all but crumbling in his grip. “Oh yeah? Then why aren’t you there now, Troy? If it’s such a great idea, why did you get yourself sent here?”
The man, Troy, shakes his head sadly, like he already knew his words would provoke this reaction. When he finally speaks, it’s me who his eyes seek. “Because I had to do something, even if I am just a single star in the sky.”
My eyes widen, a thousand questions bubbling on my lips. His knowing stare continues to pierce my own, but it’s not fear or deceit that I find there. It’s hope.
Determined not to let his bold words go unnoticed, I loosen my grip on Aras’ arm, tentatively squaring my shoulders and facing Troy head-on. I start to speak, but Aras beats me to it.
“Would you like a drink, Bravest?” he asks in a most polite tone that he must reserve for those he really likes. Or at least those who he is pretending to like anyway.
I narrow my gaze, truly taking in his glassy eyes and permanent grin for the first time since he left my borrowed room. Aside from his short tussle with Troy, he just seems so elusive. Off. If this is really all an act, it is a very good one indeed. My stomach twists, understanding beginning to run its course.
This isn’t my Aras. This is someone else.
His head cocks in response to my long stare, an errant curl breaking loose and falling across his brow. The lazy grin now even more arrogant. Before I can comprehend what he’s about to do, he hooks his arm around me, pulling me into another crushing hug. His heart beats wildly against my own, and I struggle to breathe as he places a single kiss upon my hair.
“Rest. I’ll take care of that drink,” he says, lurching to a stand, causing me to fall over and narrowly miss cracking my head on the table.
I splay my hands on the wooden top before me, determined to steady myself as I watch Aras saunter off to the bar.
“Just how much has Aras had to drink this evening?” I probe between clenched teeth, not for a second taking my eyes off the sway of his confident shoulders as he works through the crowd.
Of all of the terrible things Aras could have done, of course he chooses this. Spirits, and from the looks of it, quite a lot. He knew I was nervous about staying here, yet he still goes and decides to make himself useless should a real worry arise. For once, I’m truly at a loss for words.
“Not a drop,” Troy responds, causing my angry eyes to jerk in his direction. I start to rise from the table, ready to chase my jerk of a guide down, but his quick hand reaches out, catching my wrist and stalling me in place. “I mean it,” he says, a bit of sympathy now warming in his gaze. “Aras is too smart to make a rash decision, but something tells me you already know that.”
My eyes dart away, their wrath fizzling out into a smokeless fire with each shaky breath. I squeeze my hands into tight fists and fight the urge to bang them against the table. For the first time since I entered the room, I realize my fingers don’t even hold the slightest of tingles. The flame is gone, but for some reason, I don’t find comfort in its absence.
“Then what do you suggest?” I drawl, knowing good and well that Troy holds more answers than he’s willing to give up.
He sighs as if it’s too painful to speak, instead choosing to nod in the direction of the crowded bar. My head moves so quickly that the room threatens to tilt on edge, but the sensation stops the moment I lay eyes on the scene before me.
Aras, the sneaky weasel, stands before a perfect powder of purple and blonde, eagerly accepting another tray full of a pitcher and stew. Cil’s vicious eyes dart over his shoulder, a cruel smile forming on her lips, before Aras takes the tray and turns back to us with a slurred grin on his trusting face.
Oh, Ashen, help me.
She may not have poisoned my bathwater, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t taint something else.
Swiping the remnants of Aras’ bread off the table, I nod to Troy and rise from the booth. “Thanks for the tip,” I say, hoping his help hasn’t already cost me more than I’m willing to pay.
In response, Troy simply shrugs his shoulders, as if our drama comes as anything but a surprise. “Just get him some rest. He’ll be fine
by morning. Embarrassed and ill tempered, but fine. For Aras, that is.”
I nod, turning to leave when Aras arrives, wrapping one arm around my waist while holding the tray steadily in the other. The sudden contact sends a soft tingle throughout my limbs, and I force myself to back away from his hold. Although, if I’m being honest, it’s the one place I truly want to be.
Why is it that I always have such dreadful feelings at the most unforgiving of times?
“Hey,” he whispers, bending down and bringing his mouth obscenely close to my own. “You’re safe here, and more importantly, you need to eat.”
I eye the tray carefully, taking in the thick, creamy soup—that would be so easy to taint. Awareness rings like a clear bell, and I take the tray from his hands and plop it on the table. Reaching for the new piece of bread piled carefully to the side, I leave the steaming soup in its place while I push on Aras’ chest, prodding him toward our exit.
“I’ll take the bread,” I say, “but I’m not much hungry for anything else.”
His carefree gaze turns confused, but my reassuring smile seems to win him over. Without another word to Troy, he moves to rest his arm over my shoulders and leads me through the room. We’re steps away from the welcoming hall when another voice calls out behind us, stopping us in our tracks.
“Hey!” calls one of the men from the bar as we turn to watch him stroll out into the parting crowd. He smiles a toothy grin, and I fight a cringe before I even hear his next words. “You’ve gone on and on about your woman all night, and here we haven’t even been treated to a decent kiss.”
The crowd around us stirs, shouts and hoots filling the air from all directions. My insides crumble, and I latch onto Aras’ waist, biting my lip and hoping that even my slightly inebriated guide can get us out of this mess.
Look to the Stars (The Orien Trilogy Book 1) Page 24
