The Death of a Tyrant's Concubine

CHAPTER 52 - I Want To Forget

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【𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐉𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐄】

My head tilted back as Sylvos pressed slow, lingering kisses along my shoulder. Heat bloomed through me, spreading like wildfire beneath my skin.

The steam from the bath curled around us, making everything feel hazy and surreal. His lips traced a reverent path up my collarbone, my neck, my jaw... Like he was saying a prayer. And despite the storm in my heart, I closed my eyes and let him.

His hands moved with care, one over my chest, the other dipping down into the water... Meanwhile his teeth grazed my ear, his breath sending shivers down to my toes. When his fingers brushed up against a particularly sensitive area, I whimpered without meaning to.

Sylvos stilled instantly.

Then, before I could even think to say anything, He scooped me up, the water sloshing as he carried me out the bath and put me down on my feet.

"You should sleep," he said, grabbing a towel the servants left and drying me off.

"Wait. I... need something first," I said.

His brow furrowed.

"What is it?"

My eyes darted away for a second.

"When the Nightshades came to the tent, they played with my daggers... That's how Isolde got cut by Raincatcher. But my second dagger, Windcleaver, is still with Princess Griveen. I don't think going to them now is wise... Could you fetch it for me?"

Sylvos exhaled slowly like he was waiting for those words.

"So that's what happened..." he murmured. "Very well. I must have a word with the Nightshades regardless. Stay here. I'll be back shortly."

He kissed the top of my head before stepping back. As he reached for his clothes, I darted forward to help, handing him his tunic. He shot me a teasing smirk, and I realized with a flush that I was still very much bare to the world. I snatched my nightgown from the chair and slipped it on hastily, earning a low chuckle from him.

Then he was gone.

The moment the tent flap closed behind him, I pulled the key I had stolen from the cord of his tunic. My heart drummed at the risk of it all.

But there was no time to have any doubts.

Shrugging on a cloak, I pulled the hood up and slipped out through the back of the tent. The camp around me was alive with celebration — soldiers laughing, shouting, and singing around roaring fires. The chaos worked to my advantage. Keeping low, I slipped through the shadows, each step careful, until the prison wagon loomed before me.

Cavriel was slumped against the bars, his head bowed, his body bruised and bloodied. At the sound of my approach, he stirred weakly, green eyes fluttering open.

"Raine... what are you doing?"

My hands trembled as I slid the key into the lock.

"There isn't time. You have to run fast. They'll look for you in the morning."

Horror flickered across his face.

"No. Raine, if they find out, they'll execute you."

"I owe you this," I hissed, forcing the key to turn. "You were only forced into this position because I had ruined the Flynmoore attack for you..."

Cavriel dragged himself upright, his voice rough.

"No... It was my own mistake. I should have told you my plan. But I didn't... Because I was afraid of how close you had gotten to the emperor..."