The Blood Witch

A Bath and an Explanation

AN: Thank you for continuing to read! This chapter is formatted slightly differently to usual, so if you decide half way through to stop reading, please please please leave some feedback as to why you made that decision and anything helpful to remedy it!

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This morning, as the sun breaks over Mount Ignatia, I fall asleep in the rich silken sheets of the sole heir to the throne of Pyrthia. I can't help but feel as though I'm falling through water as sleep claims me. The mattress embraces my body like a lover's arms, a world apart from the unyielding canvas bedding of the army.

I think it's then, in those blissful moments before slumber takes me, that I realise that I could handle this princess bullshit. For the first night in months, I sleep without dreaming.

Now as I drag myself back to consciousness, it's to a feeling of such warmth and comfort that for a cruel moment I expect to find company beside me. Perhaps one of the drafted soldiers I've been courting. Possibly Esra, if I've been drinking and she's been swayed by impulse. It will be Paige if this moment truly is as heavenly as it feels.

Then the cold knife of realisation slices through my insides as I remember they're all gone forever. Their blood still clings to my nails. Flesh dried into my scalp.

I sit up, heart suddenly racing. The curtains to the balcony are pulled open, the Father's light outside showing the room to its true splendour. Gold is reflected back at me from almost every surface, from the tapestries draping the bed to to the enormous map painted on the wall. A small wooden door to my left leads to what looks like a private bathing chamber. The idea of scrubbing myself pure has never appealed so much.

Murmured conversation draws my attention to the floor and I see Ash and Emity sitting amongst piles of sorted clothes. They look up as I struggle my way out of the blankets, a smile already breaking out across Ash's face in greeting. Emity looks like she'd rather have strangled me than allowed me to rest. I glance at Ash's eager expression suspiciously.

What did I promise him last night? My memories of those late hours are buried in a fog of sleep deprivation and fear for my life. The last thing I recall is the meaty thwack of Emity's fist on the corner of my jaw. I brush my fingers along the point of impact, but there's not so much a bruise left behind. With my magic free to course uninhibited through my veins, I'm finally able to heal rapidly again.

"I want a bath, clean clothes and an explanation," I inform them both as I walk over, stifling a loud yawn. My stomach growls painfully and I reconsider. "And some decent fucking food."

"You might wish to reconsider how you address Princess Alysha and a member of the Pyrthian Royal Court," Emity chastises as Ash climbs to his feet.

I inspect a large silken robe atop one of Ash's many misshapen piles of clothing and slip it on. The soft white fabric slides across my warm brown skin with an ease so unlike anything I've worn before . Tossing my matted tangle of hair over one shoulder, I shoot her a wolfish smile. "Last time I checked I was Princess Alysha, serf."

I glance back at Ash, taking in his similarly dark hair, the Cirilean complexion and wide shoulders. In passing I can see how someone might mistake us as siblings. "That's the plan, isn't it? Identity theft?"

"Not theft if it's given willingly," he replies, walking past me to the side chamber. His proximity flutters the silk against my calves. He's either forgotten I tried killing his guard last night, or this marriage truly has made him recklessly suicidal. "The bath is through here. Em can fetch you some breakfast."

"Aly, I'm not leaving you alone with a blood witch," Emity hisses,  her memory obviously in tact. Her eyes find mine. "Not after what you tried last night."