As the lift lowered into the atrium, she glanced at the door to Bael’s chambers. She’d left it open, but someone had since closed it. She glanced around furtively, taking care that no one caught her sneaking back into her quarters.
She hurried over the bridge into her living room, then made a beeline for the bath. Blood, mushroom juice, caterpillar fluid, and mud coated every inch of her body, and she stank like the bottom of a grave. She glanced at herself in the mirror. A deep purple bruise had bloomed just below her eye.
As she filled the bath with warm water, she ripped off her clothes. She shoved them under the bathroom sink. I’ll find a better hiding place later.
She stepped into the bath, relishing the feel of the warm water against her burning muscles. She lowered herself down, letting the water soothe away the aches in her thighs. Still, her face throbbed where she’d smacked it against the rock.
She dunked her hair under the water, then rose again, reveling in the warmth of the bath. It was nearly time for her real battle—the battle against Bernajoux, and whoever else. And she’d need to be clean and rested for the fight.
She grabbed the lavender-scented soap, rubbing it over her skin and working up a frothy lather before washing her hair. When she’d finished soaping up, she dunked under the water again, rinsing off the suds.
From the living room, a heavy pounding punctuated the silence. Her heart sped up. Definitely Bael’s knock.
As she stepped from the bath, water dripping from her skin, he knocked louder. And he seems a little cranky.
He continued to pound on her door, and she yanked a towel off the rack, quickly drying off.
Bael slammed his fist into the door. “Ursula!”
Fucking hell. She wrapped the towel around herself.
“I need to speak to you.” His voice boomed through the door, an edge to it that made her spine stiffen.
Why do I have the feeling he knows what I did? “Coming!”
She pulled open the door to find Bael standing in the doorway, his hands clamped tightly on either side of the door frame.
He gazed down at her, a cold fury flashed in his eyes. “Where have you been?”
Ursula’s mind raced. How much did he suspect? She could lie completely and say she’d been in her flat all evening, but he must know something.
“I took Sotz for a ride.” The best lies always have a hint of truth.
“Did you open the door to my quarters?”
Once you start a lie you cannot budge. “No.”
His gaze trailed over her bare shoulders. “I smelled you.”
Her cheeks warmed. “What? I don’t smell that strongly. And anyway, I wasn’t anywhere near you.”
Bael studied her for a long moment, then his fingers lifted to her face, cupping her chin. “What happened?”
Ursula brushed her fingertips over her cheek. “I hit a moth when I was flying.”
He stared at her for a long moment before grazing his fingertips over the bruise. A rush of shadow magic kissed her cheek, soothing the dull pain below her skin.
He dropped his hand. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”
A million dirty jokes raced through her mind, but she didn’t think Bael would react well to them. Instead, she mutely shook her head.
“I believe someone broke into my quarters.”
She bit her lip. “That’s terrible,” she blustered. “Do you think whoever it was is a threat?”
His icy gaze rooted her in place. “No. But when I find the intruder, I will deliver a painful death.”
As Bael turned to leave, ice shot through Ursula’s veins.
Absolute, complete fuckwit.
Chapter 43
Ursula woke on the sofa in her silky nightgown, tangled in the soft blanket. She rose, stretching her arms above her head, and glanced at the clock. She could hardly make sense of the damn thing, but she was pretty sure she only had twelve hours left before the duel began. Her stomach fluttered.
Despite the soothing bath she’d taken after her adventure, her legs still felt like dead weights. The shadow running had sucked the life out of her.
Bael’s anger still roiled in her mind. She’d gone from the promise of a swift death to the threat of a painful one, having learned nothing at all from her intrusion into her quarters.
A knock sounded at the door—softer this time. Cera.
Barefoot, she padded downstairs and pulled open the door. Cera stood in the doorway holding a silver tray, a bag draped over her arm. “Lunch?”
Ursula nodded. “Is it lunchtime already? I’ve nearly lost the ability to keep track of time, since the sun never sets.”
“Mushroom sandwiches.” Cera bustled into the room, heading for the bar. She dropped the bag on the floor. “I let you sleep in. Bael told me you had a late night.”
Ursula’s stomach rumbled audibly. Even mushroom sandwiches sounded good. “Thank you, Cera.”
“The lord said you hurt yourself flying, but I see he healed you.”