ログインYvaine's POVI lay under the blanket with my eyes shut tight, praying for sleep.It would not come because the argument was still burning hot in my head, every word replaying in his voice, cold and reasonable, which was only more fuel to my annoyance. ‘An ordinary human like you would have been finished long ago.’ …. ‘Let's see how long the executioner lasts alone.’I pulled the blanket over my head. I wanted to sleep and forget the whole day, the juice, his name, this palace, and my own name too if it came to that.But the more I thought about it, the angrier I got, and the angrier I got, the more my eyes stung. I refused to cry over a man who had called me an ordinary human. The brutal fact.That mean, arrogant, impossible bastard of a king. I was finished with him. I would prove to his face that I could stand on my own two feet.Then, in the dark under the blanket, the heat drained out of me and left something colder spreading over my body.Oh no.Yes, I had done it. Me and my mou
Zayden's POV She walked into my office like a child on her way to a scolding.She had her hands clasped, chin up, eyes fixed on a spot two feet in front of her boots. It was adorable. She crossed the floor, sat in the chair before my desk, and folded her hands in her lap. The bandage on her hand was new. It was tied in a neat, careful knot I wanted very much to cut off.I tapped my fingers on the edge of the desk. I had four days of words ready, but she started talking before I said anything.She told me everything, in a level voice of someone reading an inventory, without being asked and without once looking at me. The drink she owed Damien for the lie about Madam Marlowe. She spoke very politely, and I had to question myself if she was really the one.When she finished, the room was quiet. I had learned something in those two minutes. She had been alone with Damien for long minutes before I walked in."What if I had not come?" I asked.She blinked. "Then I would have walked out."
Zayden's POVFor days I had been buried in border petitions, pack disputes, grain levies, a council that argued for an hour over the color of a banner. I signed, I read, I signed again. Every morning the pile on my desk was taller than the one I had left the night before, the kind of work that number even a king.The Veilbrand had been quiet for days too.I should have been grateful. There was heat under my ribs, no needle behind my eyes or a sly voice murmuring in my head about a certain maid. I told myself the silence meant she was fine. Her hand was healing. The mark had finally lost interest, though I didn't believe it. I had sent guards for her twice. Both times she had vanished like smoke, none of them found her. And I knew what the palace called her now. The Executioner. I had smiled when Rhett told me about it. She talked to Rhett, but not me.Good, I had thought. The distance is good. I have a kingdom to run.Even the Veilbrand didn't bother laughing at that.Doran was in my
Yvaine's POV For four days now, I had been stepping around corners, and being very vigilant when Madam Malowe had anything to do near the King's Quarters or the throne hall. I had been avoiding him like a Rabies avoided water. Zayden had sent guards to fetch me twice. Both times, I made sure I wasn't there to be found.I was enjoying my title as Executioner far too much to crawl back into the role of the King's pet. And besides, how was I supposed to face him after that night?I had tried to bury it. But it kept clawing its way back. His hands on my skin, the quiet way he had fed me, undressed me, and dressed me again as if I were something precious. Every time I remembered, my chest tightened with feelings I couldn't name. One of them scared me more than the rest. It was the way my mind lingered on him, and the heat that crept up my face whenever it did.If I stood before him now, he would see it. And I would rather die than let him read me.So I would stay out of his sight a little
In Yvaine's POV.Due to the stitches and bandage I have on my hand, my job had changed, and the strangest part was that I was enjoying it.Anita changed my bandage every evening, humming something tuneless, she had been so upset when I told her what happened, and I can see in the kitchen how she was always on a matter or another with Judy. It was her way of getting back on my behalf. I wouldn't lie, Anita seemed genuine about her care for me, and if she was actually pretending, then she should be a well paid actress. My job involved no lifting or scrubbing. The physician's orders had been passed down to Madam Marlowe like a royal decree, and Madam Marlowe, who seemed to love a good loophole, had found me work that used the only parts of me still in working order: my eyes, my memory and my mouth.The palace had opinions about this. Oh they talked a lot, and my names were many. I heard them everywhere, pitched exactly loud enough to reach me. In the linen rooms. In the corridors. Behi
Zayden's POV I woke to a soft breathing. It was slow and warm against the side of my neck, and a small weight was pressed along my arm that had not been there when I fell asleep. Under both, there was a scent of sun after rain on a warm step, crushed mint, clean cotton. Except this morning it carried something else, my own soap on her skin, and I found I did not mind that at all. I did not mind at all.I opened my eyes.Yvaine had rolled all the way to my side. The bed was wide enough for six people. I had stayed exactly where I lay down, on my own edge of the bed, with a respectable arm's length of linen between us, and at some point in the night she had crossed all of it. Her cheek was pressed to my shoulder. Her unhurt hand was curled into the sleeve of my shirt like a child's. The bandaged one lay on the pillow, held away from me, as if even asleep she knew to protect it.I turned my head. My mouth brushed her hair. Then I lay very still and let myself smile, because there was n







