Page 90 of Tarnished Crown

Mila remarked on it as well, but when I slipped my dress over my head, she gasped as if she was in pain.

“Who did this to you?” Her voice was rough with emotion as she reached out to study my back.

The more it healed, the less I thought of the whipping. It wasn’t like I ever looked at my own back. Besides, seeing the delicate crisscrossing of scars on Evander’s back so often had made it normal, somehow, to think of my own.

Until I needed to explain it, of course.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to think of anything to say that wouldn’t reveal too much of the truth.

“I will murder him myself,” she growled.

“No!” I spun around, my words cutting her off mid-sentence. “No. It wasn’t Evander.” I tried for a more natural tone. This was common in Socair, right?

“It was punishment for an escape attempt.” I added after a second. “Ordered by the duke.”

Mila’s wide brown eyes bore into mine, searching for something before she seemed to accept what I had told her.

And then, because all of the rumors pointed in that direction anyway, I gave her a little more honesty. Something she deserved if she would be marrying into Bear.

“The duke and his wife have some old-fashioned ideals. But Evander and his cousins--Taras--wouldneverdo something like this.”

“Old-fashioned ideals?” she spat out. “Rowan, women wearing ruffled dresses is an old-fashioned ideal. Flogging is nothing short of barbaric.” Mila shook her head bitterly. “And perhaps Evander and his cousins didn’t do this, but where the storms were they when it happened?”

“Gone.” I said simply. “But they came as soon as they could, and they made sure it never happened again. That’s why...” I trailed off, but Mila filled in the blank.

“That’s why you sleep in his rooms. Not for fun.” Remorse crossed her features, probably because she had teased me about it earlier.

I let out a sigh, not liking the darker turn this conversation was taking. “No, not for fun. But honestly, it is fine. It only happened once, and it was only because of who I am.”

The men had made it clear that I was the only woman flogged, publicly or otherwise, in several decades. It was a distinguishment I could have done without, but at least it meant Mila would be safe.

She let out a slow, furious breath, but reluctantly helped me slip into my robe. Then, her arms were around me, gently pulling me into a hug. She didn’t say anything, or linger for too long. Just one simple gesture that said a million words.

As if she sensed how desperately I needed it, she forced a lighter tone when she spoke next.

“All right, Scarlet Princess. Let’s go see my potential future husband’s butt.”

I had been right before. Getting into the sauna was markedly less awkward with Mila by my side.

It wasn’t long before we were all talking and laughing. Luca was surprisingly easygoing, for a Socairan Lord. The fact that he was relaxing in the sauna only two spaces away from his sister told me that despite Mila’s joking, they obviously did not think of this as remotely inappropriate.

Which was more than I could say for sleeping in Evander’s bed.

I rubbed a hand over my face, trying to hide my expression as I came to terms with that unfortunate truth.

How had I avoided it for so long? It had been easy, I supposed, tucked away in his estate. Even on the road, his men had been so used to it that it hadn’t really occurred to me until he mentioned the marriage alliance last night.

More than that, I hadn’t wanted to think about it, not when that might mean I had to go back to being alone in my rooms, trapped with my nightmares and the looming threat of Ava.

Even then, I knew that wasn’t the whole story.

But that was the last thing I wanted to be thinking about when the man in question was sitting diagonally across from me, and there was not nearly enough steam in here yet. He was unusually carefree tonight as well, leaning his head against the back wall while he rested his mug of ale casually on his muscled thigh.

I looked away quickly, focusing on Mila and Luca and the story they were telling about one of their guards drunkenly mistaking his horse for a woman he met at the tavern on the way here.

Tears stung my eyes, and I shook with laughter when he recounted how the guard leaned in for a kiss only to have the horse bite his hair instead.

The way Mila and Luca told stories, giggling at one another or themselves before they could even finish a sentence, reminded me of home. Even Taras couldn’t help a reluctant smile.