A Ruin of Roses (Deliciously Dark Fairytales 1)

“You’re exactly right. I apologize for how that came across. I meant no disrespect, but I think your village was neglected by the crown. Your people were left to their own devices while still having to pay the tax. You didn’t get your coppers’ worth. Failure to properly take care of one’s people creates a black mark on the kingdom, that’s all. You should’ve had more.”

“Here you go.” Hannon wedged himself in with the chair and set it on the wooden slats. He ducked down to work the fire, but I waved him away.

“I think our guest would benefit more from a cold bath.”

Hannon stoked the fire anyway before testing the water. To Nyfain, he said, “It’s warm enough. If you’d rather wait for me to build up the fire—”

“Not at all,” Nyfain interjected. “Finley thinks this is fine, and so it must be fine.”

The flat look Hannon gave me said he knew this was a continuation of our game, and he was not amused. He did not like any hint of tomfoolery where healing was concerned. Still, he excused himself and shut the door behind us. Nyfain “locked” the door with the little wooden peg that fit into intersecting round circles.

I rolled my eyes. “Like I said, dream on, your highness.”

“You haven’t told Hannon who I am.” He grimaced as I struggled to help him into the chair. “Why?”

“What would a prince be doing in a place like this?”

“Resting. Healing. Allowing a fiery little tart to save his life.”

“Tart, is it?” I dipped my fingertips in the water before splashing it in his face.

His grin dissolved into chuckles.

“It would make them uncomfortable having the actual prince in our home.”

The smile slipped off his face. “They’d be uncomfortable with what I’ve become.”

I huffed out a joyless laugh before grabbing the waist of his sweats and tugging. He labored to lift so I could drag them off his legs. His semihard cock twitched against his leg, and I ignored my sudden urge to wrap my fingers around its girth.

“How could they have any opinion about what you’ve become when they have zero idea of what you used to be?” I said, draping the sweats over the rack against the wall by the door. “All nobles could be inked up and full of scars for all they know. Battle-hardened, basically. But as you yourself have frequently reminded me, there are very clear social differences between someone of your station and someone of ours. I just…I just don’t want to hear how lucky I am to feel the condescending glow of the prince’s attentions. To hear how lucky we are to have been graced with your presence. Not to mention one of the kids might tell someone, and we don’t need the village knowing.”

He watched me silently as I grabbed a sponge and some antiseptic serum that stung like a motherfucker. Could I have used a milder kind? Probably. Would I go easy on him? Absolutely not.

“I don’t think rank means much anymore,” Nyfain said quietly as I dipped the sponge into the lukewarm water. I then rubbed it on the soap stone and stalled at Nyfain’s back. Now that the poison was gone, so was the evidence of danger. I was squeamish to rub soap over his pink-red, ragged skin. That seemed super gross for some reason.

I stepped to his side instead, deciding to start with his shoulder and work up to the back.

“Quite a change of heart from mockingly calling me princess and constantly pointing out that I’m a commoner.”

“We all have to face reality eventually.”

“That isn’t reality, highness.” I rubbed over his shoulder, picking up his arm and scrubbing down. “When this curse is over, things will go back to the way they were.”

“If the curse is torn down, we’ll be thrown into war. The demon king will try to take the territory.” He gave me a significant look. “I’ll be killed quickly, as will anyone who tries to stand beside me.”

“There is always hope.”

“So you say.”

“You’d do well to believe it.” I braced his hand on my shoulder as I dipped the sponge in the water and then rubbed it against the stone again. I washed down his side this time.

“I was incredibly impressed with your flight through the wood last night, by the way,” he said. “The creatures you killed have taken the lives of many battle-hardened men. You killed and wounded several of the Fah Rahlen. With a pocketknife. That’s unheard of.”

“Except for you.”

“I was in my beast form.”

“Speaking of that.” I dropped his arm with a rush of anger that wasn’t wholly expected. His body dipped, but he caught himself, grimacing.

“I’m as weak as a day-old kitten,” he grumbled.

That was the poison. His body would rally soon. I didn’t bother explaining it, though. It wouldn’t prevent him from groaning about it.