And to my surprise, it proved to be a fully equipped one, with a working bathtub and a toilet, thank god. I turned on the hot water and did my business quickly, hoping that Ansgar wouldn’t barge in and saw me peeing half a river. I didn’t know if it was a joke directed to me or just a mere coincidence, though I doubted it, but I went to clean my hands in the washing basin and found Odstar soaps. Orange scented Odstar soaps.
My chest pinched at the sight, at the thought of mom and dad and the fear that I might never see them again. That I had been so blinded by the one thing I wanted and trusted the same fae that tricked us in the first place, and did not pay attention to the fact that I directly threw myself into another trap and had only myself to blame.
“I’m sorry,” I heard Ansgar’s voice from the doorway and immediately jumped with a scare.
“What for?” I turned and grabbed a towel to wash my hands, though my full attention was on him, as he stepped inside the bathing chamber with nothing on. He must have removed his pants in the bedroom and was now fully displaying himself to me.
Savage instincts begged for him, for those touches I had longed for in my dreams, for the memories he stirred in my insides at the thought of all the waves of pleasure he could draw if he wanted to. I had to put a barrier to my mind, so I quickly turned and made myself busy fixing the towels and checking the water temperature, looking anywhere but at him.
“For the suffering I am causing. Please know that the thought of putting you through this is far removed from my mind,” he murmured, then stepped closer, his feet stamping on the floor. I felt his closeness, the warmth he brought forth at the close proximity with my skin, the thought that one single movement on my behalf might end up with us touching.
“The water is ready, if you want to get in,” I only said, unable to move or look at him. My mind played a conflict on itself. I wanted to jump him then and there, to hug and kiss him and have him inside of me, show him how much I loved him and how much I'd missed him. I had dreamt for so many nights about this moment, the one where we would find each other again, be it in another life or in a parallel universe. Fate had brought us back together and begged me to claim my mate, to make him remember me by covering him in ripples of pleasure.
But we were both trapped in an enemy kingdom, both of us had suffered, albeit in different ways and the last thing he needed was some crazy woman suffocating him with stories of the past while he was obviously tired and wounded, probably famished and lacking strength.
I hadn't truly grasped the extent of his injuries until I watched his wide back arch to get into the bathtub and the hundreds of stab wounds contorting alongside his tired muscles. I came to understand that the wounds he was displaying were not only the effect of the past few days locked in an iron cell but the result of day after day of extensive torture. The cuts looked gaping and intertwined with each other, as though they had fought for space and depth across his muscles and decided to lay one on top of another, old scars forming a shell for newer cuts.
His arms and shoulders were covered in bruises and his chest displayed so many slashes that it looked like someone decided to play board games on his chest and could not settle for only one panel. His hair looked gruffy, the small braids he used to wear now only knots keeping together lumps of dried blood.
The only thing that stayed the same were his eyes, hidden behind his fanning long eyelashes, but even the silvery gray had adopted a more metallic shade, portraying the emptiness of the owner. No regular human being could have survived this, but here my mate was, alive and safe, at least for now. My stomach tightened at the thought, at the uncertainty that followed us.Live in the present, Anwen, I encouraged myself and picked up a washing cloth to dampen into the already bloodied water.
Ansgar watched me as he tried to adjust his body to the size of the tub, which proved to be a tad smaller than what he needed, so he bent his knees and allowed his back to soak in the water while displaying his chest and other parts to me. My fingers automatically tightened on the cloth.
“May I?” I asked in a slightly trembling voice, showing him the cloth and what I thought would be my obvious intention to clean his wounds.
“Thank you,” he said and changed positions again, turning to display his injured back to me. I guessed that was where the pain lingered most.
I did not respond, for what could I say? Thankyoufor staying alive? For suffering in here, forgotten by the world while I cried in soft bed sheets and drowned myself in expensive champagne? That I hadn’t even considered the possibility that you could be alive? That I let myself wait for almost three weeks, stupidly thinking you would be treated right by the same people who killed pregnant women and turned soldiers against their own people?
“Anwen,” I heard Ansgar call for me, his hands grabbing mine without hesitation, making me look at him fully for the first time since we’d stepped inside the room. “I’m sorry,” he said again, his eyes following mine and the tears I had unwillingly splayed across my cheek.
“No, I’m sorry,” I said quickly, dropping the cloth to dry them with the back of my hand, “it seems like the only thing I'm capable of doing is cry,” I huffed. “I never used to do it,” I explained, “but since Erik died, tears just pop in. For anything, for any reason. Not that your wounds are just anything,” I clarified quickly.
Ansgar seemed surprised, his eyes widened only slightly and his mouth escaped a breath. “You are crying because of me?” he asked, looking at me like I started to grow horns or something.
“I’m so sorry for what they’ve done to you,” I whimpered, releasing even more tears. By this time I had given up trying to hide them since his face was only a few inches from mine and there was no way he wouldn’t see them.
“You have nothing to be sorry about,” he said as his wet hands cupped both my cheeks, locking my face in tight closeness to his own. “I am sorry,” he repeated. “For causing you reason to come here. I am the one responsible for your suffering.”
“Oh baby, you are responsible for returning life back into me,” I said, and instinctively, I pressed my lips on his. The kiss was short, only a second or two, our lips barely having enough time to touch, when the sound of a creaking door alerted us into a halt.
Ansgar wanted to rise from the tub but I pressed on his shoulder, a silent offering for me to go. A curt nod showed his agreement, possibly because the warm water started to soak his muscles and he could barely stand as it was.
I opened the bathroom door to find a soldier pushing a trolley of stashed trays through the door.
“The general sent this,” he explained as soon as he saw me. “Medicine, food, and water, to last until the agreed time.”
I nodded, unable to find it in me to thank the man, a representative of the court who had so swiftly earned my hatred. It seemed to be enough because he nodded in return and stepped outside, locking us in without another word.
Chapter Twenty-Two
By the time I got out of the bath, I felt lighter, the bloodshed and eagerness to hurt had been washed away by those soft, gentle hands along with the infections of my wounds. Anwen, I loved saying her name, washedeach small tear of my skin with unimaginable patience, carefully scraping away dry blood or parts of infected muscle until she felt satisfied with the results.
I was unable to stop watching her, following her every movement and the way my skin reacted to her touch, like branches of a tree that had been cut off for years and had finally managed to grow back to their same length, able to reach sunlight.
There was something about her presence. Just by her being there, she managed to shift every single feeling I had. There was no more hatred, no unknown feeling that urged me to hurt, to keep fighting, as though through her arrival parts of my mind shifted and started connecting to her, to her kindness and that sheer need to touch me and be next to me, to the new sentiment of protection that she offered. Anwen gave me peace and calmness, both feelings I had thought long forgotten, so I relished in her touch and allowed myself to fully relax under the hot water.
“Anwen?” I mustered enough courage to say her name, risking the chance to pull her from her systematic gentle movements, which became more natural with each wound she found and cleaned.
