CHAPTER 114: THE WATCHMAN

Earlier before going to Jenna.

Leaving Kali outside, Rhane shut the chamber door behind him with a quiet click. Hisheavy boots tracked mud mixedwithblood across themarble, and he carefullystrippedthemoff beforestumblingtowardthe tub already waitingwithlukewarmwater. Thesteam had fled long ago. Hedidn’t

care.

Lowering his body into the tub fully clothed, Rhane hissed through clenched teeth as the water soaked his shirt. He tipped his head back against the cold rim, his jaw tight, and for a long moment he said nothing.

Only when the stab wound flared beneath his ribs— sharp and cruel did the sound break from his throat. A low guttural groan, the kind a man makes when he cannot let the world hear how broken he is.

Damnation. Rhane thought to himself.

Pressing his palm flat against the wound under the fabric. It was small but deep, he didn’t realize until now. He could almost laugh at the irony how easily Jenna had seen through everything that happened the previous night, yet she had not noticed this. He had mastered the art of letting her eyes find nothing except what he wanted her to.

Weakness? No. His father would feast on that without a second thought.

At the thought of Nikolai, Rhane exhaled tiredly. That look on the old man’s face before he left him— sly eyes, lips pressed thin, the air of someone who saw death coming for his children faster than for himself. He had worn that same look once when he offered Rhane help that night in the barn.

It made Rhane wonder what Nikolai had in plan this time. What type of death he had prepared for him.

Dragging in a shallow breath, Rhane stared at the ceiling beams blurred by the haze of his pain. He was worried. He worried for Jenna, for their life now. But mostly for Kali.

Rhane’s mouth twisted, half a grimace, half a smile that knew no joy. That sister of his carried fire in her veins and a blade behind her tongue. She could make men twice her size stumble back with nothing more than a glare. And yet, for all her fury, she was still breakable. Rhane had seen it when she thought no one watched, when her hand trembled just a fraction too long on a sword hilt, when her laughter ended in silence too quickly.

The world would eat her alive if he let it. If he left her. But he could not be in two places at once. If he wanted to protect Kali, it was leaving her behind, that way he would have only Jenna to think of. Involving Kali would risk her life even more.

With his hand pressed harder against his stomach, Rhane gritted his teeth. His whole body ached and burned with pain. But God help him, the tub water was already warming with his blood.

Finally done with bathing, Rhane stood up from the tub with a hiss, water sloshing over the marble. He stripped his shirt away and tossed it to the floor, then reached for the dry towel. Rinsing the open wound once more, Rhane dried his body before tying a cloth tight around his stomach until the bleeding slowed.

He didn’t flinch when the sting bit him. He simply breathed harder through his teeth. His fingers worked with skill of a man who has seen worse, though every pull sent fire down his ribs.

A knock broke the agonizing silence.

Rhane straightened, tugging his shirt around him before he crossed to the door. He didn’t open it, only leaned close enough to growl, "Speak."

"It’s me, master. I have returned," came the guard’s voice. One of the men he had sent after Jenna.

Rhane unlatched the door just enough to let him in. The man stepped inside, then bowed.

"Well?" Rhane asked with his brows raised. "How is she? Shocked?"

The soldier shook his head. "No, my lord. Lady Jenna is well. Shaken, perhaps, but not crying. At least."

A breath of relief escaped Rhane’s lips. He turned back to the table, knotting the bandage tighter. "And the place?"

"The house is... strange," the guard admitted. "It trains maidens who’ve reached the age for marriage but found no suitor. Families send them there to be polished, taught to sew, sing, and bow. All with the hope someone will notice them."

Rhane stopped and turned. His jaw tightened. "A house for women desperate to be chosen."

"Yes, master."

Rhane groaned. He knew it meant trouble. A woman like Jenna— once married, proud, unbending would only draw attention. Marriage markets thrived on gossip, on tearing down those who stood apart. And Jenna was just the perfect piece.

"Those foolish council men, they know she’ll be talked about," he snarled. "Bullied for her past."

The guard tilted his head. "Maybe... but so far, none dare. She has carried herself as if she belonged there all her life. The others keep their distance. There is... a respect."

Rhane shrugged. He knew Jenna could handle herself if anything should come up. She wasn’t weak.

"My message?" he asked.

"I delivered it."

Rhane hummed low in his throat, half a growl, half relief. He pulled the bandage knot hard, grunting when the pain shot through him.

The guard stared at him worriedly. "Forgive me, master, but... are you certain you can go? With that wound—"

Rhane’s eyes flicked at him with a cold glare. The soldier shut his mouth.

Rhane did not care for himself. What mattered most was whether Jenna slept tonight without fear or nightmares. She might have tried to act strong, but he saw in her eyes fear when she held his face.

The shock of seeing him killing so many would have left her overwhelmed. She only acted strong so as not to hurt his feelings.

"Ready the horse," Rhane said at last, voice flat.

. . . . . .

Currently, Rhane pulled the cloth over the lower half of his face as he left Jenna’s chamber through her window, his stride heavy though he forced it to seem steady. The silk clung damp against his skin, reeking faintly of iron. He felt no pain in that moment.

Instead, he only tasted Jenna. He could still taste her on his fingers, still hear the raw, broken sound of her moan ringing inside his skull.

Jenna, damn her! She had come undone in his arms with nothing more than his fingers.

Rhane could still picture every step of the moment, how her breath had faltered, her body had arched reaching to meet his thrust. And he had watched her fall apart... all for him. It was worth it. Just her soft voice calling out to him was worth every pain.

Rhane’s lips curled. He’d wanted to hide his face so she didn’t notice he was in pain, but she pulled the mask.

"That stubborn woman of mine," Rhane cursed under his breath.

That face. Jenna’s pleasure-creased lips, the helpless need in her gaze. He could still see it even now, while the cold night air gnawed at his bones. Rhane smirked beneath the mask, though it was laced with a groan. He wanted the tournament done, so he could take his prize home.

The next step Rhane took came with a sharp lance of pain that stabbed through his stomach, causing him to stagger. His boots skidded against the soil, and he fell hard on the ground with a loud shuffling of leaves.

Rhane pressed his palm to his side, breathing hard. Blood was now wet on his fingers through the linen.

"Bloody hell," he muttered breathlessly. The wound had ripped open, staining the bandage. Rhane was glad it didn’t happen in front of Jenna.

"Who’s out there?"

Rhane closed his eyes. He knew his fall broke the night silence. Anyone close by would have heard. Exhaling his weariness with the sound, Rhane decided to wait it out just in case the person left.

A fire-torch flickered nearer, its glow licking through the trees. Rhane clenched his jaw and sighed. There was no point hiding. He stretched his body, standing up to full height despite the pain gnawing at his ribs. He covered his face carefully before stepping out from the shadows.

"Heavens bless my sweet soul!"

Soft gasps broke the silence. In front of Rhane stood a cluster of young women, their white gowns pale in the dark, and their eyes wide as they took in the breadth of Rhane.

"Saints preserve," one whispered. "A man? Here?"

"This is no place for men, did you not know?" another hissed, though her gaze lingered too long on his shoulders down to his legs.

Rhane let his hand fall to his waist, a stance that belonged to mothers when scolding. "I should be the one asking you. What business have you wandering at this hour, when you should be asleep?"

The women murmured among themselves, some half-hiding their faces, others too bold to look away.

A younger one among them with bright eyes dared a giggle. "We come to chase fireflies, Sir. Then return to our rooms to watch it glow."

"Fireflies." Rhane’s mouth curved wryly beneath the mask. "It is late already, return back to your quarters."

Some of the ladies turned, afraid to provoke the man without knowing his title. While some remained, among those who stayed was a maiden who had been glaring at Rhane since she saw him.

"And who are you?" she asked, pushing forward fearlessly, despite others holding her back.

Rhane held her gaze, though the torchlight kept her features dim, but he noticed the defiance in her eyes. With his voice even harder, Rhane repeated, "Go back inside. Now. Unless you would prefer I keep watch and punish you all myself."

"Oh! He must be the night watchman!" another maiden gasped, dragging the girl back.

The young girls scattered back toward the door. They didn’t stop giggling and taking quick glances at Rhane at intervals.

The defiant one glared at Rhane once more. She turned to follow the others but misstepped, her foot slipping on the damp grass. Before she could fall, Rhane’s hand shot out. He caught her easily with a firm grip, lifting her upright as though she weighed nothing.

"Careful." His voice rumbled through the thick mask.

The young woman held her breath, steadying herself under Rhane’s hold. For a moment her eyes searched his face, but he had already released her.

"Quick, let’s go!" The others called for her from the doorway. She turned at last, walking after them, though her steps were slower.

Rhane waited for them to turn, before he disappeared back into the darkness, jumping through the fence he came in from.

Meanwhile, the young maiden Rhane had helped, reaching the threshold, paused. Her hand pressed to the wooden frame, she glanced back.

The space behind was empty. There was no longer a watchman there.

"Strange... a watchman leaving his post," she whispered, almost to herself, before she slipped inside, the door closing soft behind her.