Arc 3: Chapter 29: Bonds
I stared at the face in the mirror, trying to recognize it.
I stood in a private room in the queen-consort’s bastion. Clean and comfortably furnished, a still-steaming tub lay on the floor and clean clothes were strewn across a cushioned couch. They’d probably burned the ones I’d arrived in.
I’d lost weight during my imprisonment, and my musculature looked ghoulish, the skin clinging tight after the bath. I’d turned pale from so much time in the dark. Kross had known my powers kept me healthier than most men, so they’d been able to starve me more thoroughly.
My beard grew in an angry, wiry mass, its red darker than the copper tint of my hair, which fell past my shoulders, lank and tangled even after I’d tried attacking it with a comb.
The gold in my eyes seemed dimmer, closer to amber now, the faint light in them almost imperceptible. My cheekbones jutted out like precipices over the hollows of my cheeks, and my lips had thinned into a sour line I couldn’t relax.
I looked drained. Wasted.
I’d always been broad of build, with wide shoulders and long, strong arms. I’d gotten leaner, lost body mass. I looked older than I’d ever had, in a way the lasting youth the Sidhe magic had given me couldn’t mask.
I’d gotten lice, too, in the dark of Oraise’s dungeon.
Going into Rose Malin had been a terrible idea. I’d acted impulsively. I’d believed I could barrel my way through any situation.
I had people relying on me now. This wasn’t a war zone or a demon-haunted wilderness. If I acted brashly, people died.
I was a mess. My eyes fell to a razor and a pair of scissors lying on the vanity.