44. Eradin #2
My breath caught. “They’ll kill me if they hear.”
“I wouldn’t let them near enough to do it.”
He shouldn’t say such things. A commons and a royal was so forbidden, I was sure the world would scorch over if it was spoken aloud.
“You’re not going to be around all the time.” I knelt beside him again and unscrewed the salve jar, my hands steady now that I had something to do.
“Watch me.”
I didn’t know how to answer, so I poked my finger into the jar.
Heat gathered in my palms as I applied the salve to his wound, red lines glowing beneath my skin.
He lifted the blade with his good hand, holding it up in the light. Not a common weapon. The ornate hilt had a marking I didn’t recognize.
Fen glared at the blade.
“Recognize it?” I asked.
“Never seen it before in my life,” he said, but there was something in his expression that made me doubt his answer.
He placed it on the table on the opposite side of the bed.
“Everyone’s trial was different,” he said as I gently applied a second coating of salve. “Did you hear?”
“Just fragments. Lyndie and Reece faced crystals that shot at them until they worked together.”
“Some faced their fears. Others had to solve puzzles or survive attacks.” He paused. “But ours tested choice. Whether we’d pick each other over…”
“Over what?” I didn’t look up from his shoulder.
“Over everything I’m supposed to be.”
My hands stilled before I tugged out herbs that would fight infection and ease the pain. I rubbed them between my palms, combining and crushing them, before carefully applying them to his wound. My magic added depth. Soothing. Healing in ways salve and bandages couldn’t.
“The trials supposedly come from the fates,” he said in a soft voice. “From ancient magic beyond the kingdom’s touch. But what if someone could influence them? Make suggestions or give nudges?”
I gaped up at him before returning to his wound. “Who could do that?”
“Someone with incredible power,” he said. “Access. Someone who needed to verify if I truly was compromised.”
I lifted a clean bandage and pressed it to his wound, keeping the herbs in place and juggled for a roll of material I could wrap around his arm and chest to keep the bandage secure. “The queen.”
“Or one of her councilors. They’re all powerful enough to do something this bad.” His throat worked on a swallow. “A messenger imp delivered a scroll to someone yesterday.”
“I saw one tonight too.” I told him about it and how I’d later seen Lady Severine with Lord Andra.
“Hmm,” was all he said, a frown on his face. “I also received an imp-delivered message tonight.”
His hand lifted like he wanted to rake it through his hair.
I caught his wrist. “Hold still.”
He dropped his hand to his side. “My mother has sent me two since the Scorching started. You saw what I did with the first one where she made it clear she didn’t like my conduct, that she was going to deliver her punishment when the Scorching is over. She sent another to me a short time ago.”
“What did it say?”
“I burned it without reading it.”
I nodded, biting down on my lower lip.
“I don’t care what she thinks. She knew before the trial that I was changing.”
My fingers went numb on the bandage I was securing in place.
“And if she knew,” his voice remained a bare whisper. “If she suspected I’d choose differently…”
He didn’t finish, but he didn’t have to.
Had she guided the trial to try to force him to choose himself and leave me behind?
I finished with his bandage and sat back on my heels. Blood coated my fingers, mixing with the red lines that wouldn’t fade.
“This isn’t enough,” I said. “You need a proper healer. Someone with—”
He caught my wrist. “No.”
“It’s a deep wound. What I’ve done is barely—”
“You’re all I need.”
The tent went quiet.
He released me, his hand dropping to his side again. “You did enough. It feels better already.”
The tent had shrunk, or I’d expanded. He was too close. I could see each breath lift his chest and the way his pulse jumped in his throat.
A horn sounded outside.
We both stopped breathing.
The next trial?
He struggled to the side of the bed and tried to stand. His face paled. I caught him with an arm around his back before he could fall, wedging my shoulder under his good arm.
“Take it slowly,” I said.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re being foolish.”
His mouth curved despite everything. “That’s a helpful observation, Feral.”
I lifted my eyebrows. “Feral?”
“It fits, don’t you think?”
“I suppose.” Not really. Selira was the feral one, not me.
“I’ll only use it when we’re alone. Something between only us.”
What was I supposed to say to that?
Shouts echoed. Someone called his name.
Both of us knew I had to leave. He wasn’t wearing much, just an undergarment, and I shouldn’t be noticing, but I couldn’t drag my gaze away from his muscular thighs. The way his cock pressed against the thin cloth.
He lifted my chin, making me meet his gaze. Humor lurked in his eyes, but it faded. “Don’t die today.”
“You either.”
He brushed his thumb across my lips, so briefly I might’ve imagined it.
“I’ll saddle Aristus for you,” I said.
“I appreciate it.”
I helped him dress in a clean shirt, taking care not to jar his bandaged shoulder.
“You know,” his voice had gone low and rough, “I’m perfectly capable of dressing myself.”
I guided his arm through the sleeve.
“You’re perfectly capable of bleeding through your bandage too. Put your legs into your pants.” I held them in place.
“You’re bossy.”
“I won’t deny it.”
He found my shoulders for balance, and the warm weight of his hands stayed after he let go.
I tugged the waistband up, my knuckles grazing the curve of his hip.
We both went rigid. I secured the fastening with feverish hands, doing my best not to think about how warm his abs were.
How much I wanted to stroke the hard ridges.
That dream…
The same feelings swirled through me now.
After smoothing his tunic into place, I looked him up and down. “There. You’re presentable.” It was all I could do to strangle out the words.
“Am I?” He caught my hand before I could step away. “Because I’m fairly certain I look like I was just stabbed.”
“You were just stabbed.”
His mouth curved even further, and my chest pulled tight along with it. “You ran here barefoot.”
I looked down. Grass and mud coated my feet. I’d sprinted across the camp without shoes because I’d heard he was dead and nothing else had mattered.
My face overheated. “I was in a hurry.”