Years of appearing unaffected are completely worthless now. I’m too stunned not to stare. I should look away. I wouldn’t want someone to stare at my scars like that, but the more I look, the more I see the violence of his history scored into his skin.
As he turns to hang his shirt on a hook on the cavern wall, the light catches a short, neat scar over his jugular and what looks like two puncture wounds in his back that appear to be made by arrows.
The training for hunters that go beyond the fort walls is extensive and harrowing, but Henry looks like he’s survived so much more than my poison lips.
There are other, fainter scars over his forearms and shoulders—the marks of years of training—the same kind common on city guards back in Lunameade.
Henry clicks his tongue as he unbuttons his pants. “I know I’m handsome, Harlow, but if you don’t stop staring, I’m going to blush.”
Finally, I drag my gaze away and busy myself with the buttons on the back of my dress. I slip the straps off my shoulders, letting the silk land on the floor, a pool of red against the dark stone.
Henry pauses with his pants hanging low on his hips. He watches me bend to unfasten my garters. He swallows hard, eyes fixed on the stretch of skin above my stockings, and I know he’s remembering kissing me there the way I remember the sharp pinch of his teeth that chased each kiss. I slide the stocking down my right leg slower than I need to, enjoying this power I have over him. I do the same with the other stocking before standing tall and unclasping my bustier, letting it down my arms.
Finally, he meets my gaze and grins, sliding his pants down as I shimmy out of my lace underwear. I stand in front of my husband-to-be, naked, trying not to let my eyes stray any lower than his chest, even as I feel his unapologetic predatory perusal.
He makes a low sound like a hum, then steps into the pool. He might have been ready to fuck someone else the other night, but it’s clear I have his full attention now.
There’s a ledge a few feet down that he uses to slowly lower himself into the steaming pool.
Staring down at the water, I try to summon the courage to step in. What if it hurts me? What if these waters are like the ones at home and they’re only carrying me on a current toward madness?
The longer I stand here, the more questions I’ll raise in his mind.
I force myself to walk toward the water, silently praying to any of the Divine who will listen to let this be a well that will heal me and not drive me toward madness. Praying that this secret holy water that appears to be even closer to the source won’t be the thing to prove once and for all just how broken my body is.
I pause with my foot hovering over the water. I hate myself for that one second of weakness. I cannot afford to be weak here.
Breathing in deeply, I step down onto the ledge. The hot water feels amazing on my aching calves. My whole body has been clenched in pain for so long. Perhaps, at the very least, the heat will help ease the tension.
Henry takes my hand and helps me down.
The water comes to just below my breasts, so I sink lower, holding my breath—I don’t know why. It’s not as if the relief is instantaneous at home. It usually takes at least fifteen minutes of soaking. I typically stay in longer.
Questions bounce around my brain. What if being closer to the source means the madness comes on faster? What if it makes the pain worse? What if Henry sees?
I swish my hands along the surface of the water as if I can shake the rogue thoughts free. Henry watches me from the far side of the pool. We’re separated by ten feet of aqua water, but he still feels too close. His aura is stretched wide, pulsing slowly and steadily. He’s calm and comfortable in here.
“How often do you soak?” I ask.
He shrugs noncommittally. “After every hunt beyond the walls.”
Mentally, I calculate how often that is from the book he gave me on the basics of life in the fort. Several times a week, hunter parties, made up of the calmest and best-trained people of Mountain Haven, venture beyond the fort walls to hunt game. It’s dangerous work, though not as dangerous in daylight.
“You work in shifts, right?”
He nods. “It works out to be two to three times per week, depending on how many people are healthy and able to go out. I try to go a little more often for appearances.”
“Always a slave to appearances, aren’t we?” I sigh. “How do you usually feel after? I’ve only ever been in the Family Well and the Blood Well.”
Henry looks down at the water. “It’s usually subtle at first—just a feeling of being refreshed. It’s not until I’m climbing out and walking back up to my room that I notice how much less stiff and tired my body feels.”
We fall into a heavy silence, and I use the time to look around the space. It’s not very large, and there’s only the one way in and out. I should probably be more nervous about that than I am. At least Gaven knows I’m down here. If I don’t come back out, he’ll know who to blame and where to find the body.
“Why the ice?” Henry asks.
The question startles me out of my daze.
“Excuse me?”
