“Did you want something?” she prompted.
“I thought perhaps you wouldn’t like to eat alone. I was hoping you might join me for dinner.”
Now that was unexpected. She glanced down at her leather outfit covered in sand and dried blood. “I’ll need time to change.”
“Of course. I’ll return in an hour.” He turned, departing as suddenly as he’d come.
* * *
As she filled the bath, Ursula peeled off the blood-stained leather trousers and corset.
Cera had been right about the strength of the material. A few slashes had pierced through the reinforced leather, but it still hung together. Still, something would have to be done about the grit that seemed to permeate every crease and fold. If she wore it again, she’d get a rash.
She stepped into the bath, letting the warm water soothe her burning muscles.
She closed her eyes, but the images from the fight flooded her mind: Remus, impaled on her sword. The reaper’s head, detaching from his body, the hot spray of crimson blood. Her eyes snapped open again.
She reached for the soap—lavender-scented. Bael had said it would chase the nightmares away. She rubbed it over her skin, working up a pale blue lather, washing away the blood and grit. When she inhaled deeply, some of the images faded from her mind.
Still, a voice nagged in the back of her mind. Fighting—viciously—had come so easily to her. So who was F.U.? What had she done that slicing through a man’s neck came as naturally as breathing? Ursula swallowed hard. She couldn’t help but wonder if F.U. had been something of a monster.
And she had the strange feeling that Nyxobas knew all about F.U.’s monstrosity. Still, Ursula couldn’t remember a damn thing.
She stepped out of the bath, toweling off. As she examined her skin in the mirror, she could find not a single scar marring her pale skin. Bael’s magic had worked remarkably well. In fact, as she gazed at herself in the mirror, she couldn’t stop thinking about the feel of his powerful magic, kissing her body. What would his lips feel like on her bare skin? The lords’ wives had said he was an amazing lover.
She gritted her teeth. Stop it, Ursula. It was ridiculous. He was going to kill her—he had no choice but to kill her. Unless, by some miracle, she managed to slaughter him first. And here she was, wondering what his lips would feel like on her bare skin.
“There is something really wrong with you, you know that?” she said to her reflection.
Wrapped in a towel, she climbed the stairs to the bedroom she never used. Cera had left some dresses in there.
She opened a drawer, plucking out a pair of purple knickers. She slid them on over her hips, then crossed to the closet. She pulled out a dress—a stunning indigo. She stepped into it, pulling it up over her shoulders. Her milky-white legs shone through the sheer fabric. Delicate, glimmering stitching wound up the front of the dress. Cera is an absolute genius.
She slipped into a pair of deep-blue heels.
Cera had left a makeup kit on the dresser, and she rubbed blush into her cheeks.
She felt like she was preparing for a date, which was completely insane. She was meeting another warrior, for a post-slaughter feast, before they jumped into the fray again.
Still, after everything she’d seen, it was a relief to do something normal. The mundane tasks of lining her eyes with black, slicking lip-gloss over her lips—a rich red, the color of—
She slammed the lipstick on the top of her dresser. That’s enough of that. She wasn’t going to think about death right now. She pulled a soft, white cloak from the closet, and wrapped it around her shoulders. Before leaving the bedroom, she shoved the silver ring into her pocket.
A knock sounded from downstairs. He’s already here.
She hurried down the stairs and pulled open the door.
Bael stood in the doorway, dressed in a midnight-blue cloak, with a deep gray suit underneath. “Ursula. Thank you for joining me. Cera arranged dinner in my hall.”
Her stomach rumbled as she stepped outside. “I’m actually starving.”
They walked across the bridge, the lunar wind nipping at her skin.
“I thought you might be hungry,” he said. “Battle either turns your stomach or leaves you ravenous.”
She frowned as they hurried over the bridge. “F.U. seems to have a brutal side.”
“F.U.?”
“Former Ursula. Me, before I lost my memory.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Right. Her brutal side may have saved your life.”
He led her into the lion atrium, where milky sunlight streamed through the shattered wall. On the dark side of the room, candlelight danced over the smashed tile, and her heels crushed the fragments of the floor. “Why don’t you repair this place? It didn’t seem to take you long to repair the broken window in my quarters.”
“I want to remember.” He pulled open an onyx door, revealing the tunnel illuminated by glowing mushrooms.