A Most Dangerous Weapon

Chapter 39: Unloading my Sorrows

Arrian took me to the second floor attic space to get cleaned up. There was a small room in one of the back corners that offered a small sense of privacy despite the lack of door and the various holes in the walls. There were empty cases and shattered jars all around, so I assumed that this was where Jeyne's father kept pickled and fermented stock. Arrian tried to clean up a bit by kicking the mess into a corner. He flipped over the two sturdiest cases for us to sit on.

Arlo walked in with a bucket of water and a cloth. He placed it between us with a thud. "Make sure she covers back up once you're done." He instructs Arrian. "We don't want any of the Antigo gladiators to recognize her."

He marches away without waiting for a response.

I had pulled my hood and sash back on before entering the barn. It was a relief to rip the dirty fabric off at last. I crumbled the sash and cloak up into a ball and tossed them aside in an irritated manner.

Arrian had brought his satchel with him. He pulls out a spare shirt and trousers. I expect him to start changing out of his wet clothes, but he surprises me by placing the fresh clothing beside me.

He senses my confusion and hesitation. "I'll dry off in no time. You, on the other hand, look like a wet dog whose been rolling around in a sty."

I can't help but laugh at his description.

He smiles in return.

I missed his smile.

I lift my arms into the air and wait for him to follow my lead. He doesn't hesitate, grabbing the base of my shirt to slide it up my body. He purposefully glides his cold fingers across my skin. I shiver from the chill and with delight. He pulls the fabric over my head successfully before leaning in to place a soft kiss on my lips. Before I can greedily pull him in for more, he grabs my hands to start cleaning them. I was left wanting more, but we hadn't made up after our last disagreement yet.

He uses the cleaner parts of my discarded shirt to wipe off the larger globs of mud from my fingers. He then moves up my body to my neck. Despite the sash that I originally had draped around it, Kilgorian's dirty fingers still managed to dig into my skin in the shuffle. He tosses the shirt aside as I kick of my sandals. He helps me shimmy out of my trousers. I'm left sitting on the crate wearing nothing but my undergarments. He grabs the clean cloth that Arlo prepared and dips it into the fresh watch. He starts with the smudges on my face, rubbing carefully as to not agitate my fresh wounds. As his hand moved across my features, I was able to map out exactly where my face was swollen and cut. The damage was surprisingly minimal given Kilgorian's rage. I hoped that I was able to hold back in the moment despite my temper as well.

Once my face is as clean as it's bound to get, he moves onto the stubborn smudges that he couldn't remove earlier from my neck and hands.

"I assume that your fight was about more than taking blame for the Prince's death?" Arrian asks without looking at me, too focused of my hands.

"What do you mean?"

"Kilgorian loved him..."

I was surprised that Arrian knew this. Aside from Arlo, Theo and I, no one else was supposed to know. Arrian was just supposed to interpret our fight as a competition of culpability. But I suppose if Rowan could figure it out without being told than Arrian could too. Kilgorian was giving away his secret without even realizing it.

When I don't confirm his suspicions, he explains his deduction. "I spent enough time in the palace to figure it out. Whenever Decimus was looking at you, Kilgorian was looking at him with the same longing expression. He hid it well most of the time, but it was impossible for him to control himself every minute of the day." He finally looks up at me with a sad smile. "Perhaps I was able to recognize that pained look so easily because I felt the same way..."