26. Fen
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
FEN
Istormed into the kitchen.
Eradin’s head snapped up, her eyes finding mine. For one second, neither of us moved.
Her fingers flew to the hilt of her talon-blade.
“Did you go swimming in your leathers?” I asked, stalking closer, stopping when I was so close I caught her sweet scent. I dared her to draw her blade with my eyes.
Her hair lay plastered to her skull. It wasn’t raining, which meant she’d been somewhere with enough water to drench herself completely.
Her hand didn’t leave the hilt.
“I, um…went through a waterfall.”
“A what?”
“Nothing.”
I shoved out a huff and tried not to notice the exact slope of her collarbones where the wet outfit molded to her skin. Her breasts…
I forced my gaze up to her face.
Too late. She’d seen me looking.
“Stealing from the fortress kitchens is a bold move,” I said, nudging my chin toward the half-filled bag lying on the counter.
“Are you going to report me?” Her voice held no inflection, and I was surprised she wasn’t scared. She actually sounded tired.
Well, so was I, but I wasn’t stealing food from the kitchen.
“Should I?” I bit out.
“You didn’t report the men who tried to kill me.”
My jaw tightened. She had me there, and she knew it.
“That was different,” I said.
“How?”
I’d disposed of the bodies and—so far—no one appeared aware I’d killed two men in the gardens. My crew had tidied the grass and kept the job to themselves.
I plucked at her saturated tunic sleeve. “Where did you go tonight?”
She wrenched away from me, taking a few stumbling steps backward. “Does it matter?”
I followed. My body moved before my brain caught up, closing the space she’d tried to create. Her back hit the counter, and I was there, bracing my palms on either side of her waist, leaning in close enough to note her long eyelashes.
“Tell me where you were.”
Her chin lifted. “No.”
Her defiance made heat crawl up my spine even though I was standing in a cold kitchen at midnight. It made me want to crowd her until she had to tip her head back to hold my gaze.
“If you run around in wet clothing, you’re going to catch your death,” I said.
“Worried about me, Your Highness?”
The title should’ve driven a wedge between us. Instead it felt like a secret only we knew.
My gaze dropped to her mouth. Her lips had parted, and her breathing came uneven.
Every rule I’d ever learned told me to step back.
I leaned closer instead.
Her hand remained on her blade. But her other hand came up to press flat against my chest. Resting there. I could feel my heartbeat slamming against her palm.
“Oh.” The word barely made it past her mouth.
“I’m not going to kiss you,” I rasped.
“Good.” Her voice barely made it past a whisper. “Because I’m not going to let you.”
We stood there, not kissing, for what felt like a lifetime.
Then I did step back. Because if I didn’t, I’d break every vow I’d made about keeping distance between crown and commons.
“You’re soaked through. Did you fall in a lake or river? Commons aren’t allowed to wander—”
“I’m aware of what we aren’t allowed to do. I’ve spent my whole life being aware.”
I could stop this right now and walk away. Report her for theft. She’d be disqualified from the Scorching and punished beyond that.
I wouldn’t, because I could feel the same wrongness with her that I did with Aristus.
Her weight shifted, favoring her foot.
My gaze dropped to her boots. “You’re still limping.”
“It’s nothing.”
“It wasn’t nothing last night when you could barely walk across the ballroom.” I straightened, though I hated putting distance between us. “And it won’t be nothing tomorrow when you’re trying to compete in a race.”
I pulled the tin of salve from my pocket. I’d carried it since leaving my rooms, waiting to find the right time to give it to her.
Her eyes followed the movement. “Have you been carrying that around?”
“I have. I told you I had plenty in my rooms.” I set it on the counter beside her. “This is a second vial. I knew you wouldn’t ask for more, not even if you were dying from an infection.” I braced my hands on either side of her hips again, caging her against the counter. “I suspect you’ll need it.”
Her breathing snagged in her throat and a frown formed between her brows. “You gave me one already?”
“Let me see your foot,” I said.
“No.” Exhaustion hung in the shadows under her eyes.
“You can barely stand. Tomorrow you’ll be flying. If your foot gives out—”
“That’s my problem.”
“It becomes my problem when I have to watch it happen.”
“You don’t get to—”
“I have no right to care whether you live or die tomorrow. But I do. So let me help you. Please.”
I’d never said please to anyone, though she couldn’t know that.
Silence stretched between us before her shoulders sagged, the fight draining out of her. “Fine.”
I didn’t give her time to change her mind. I spanned her waist with my hands and lifted her, setting her on the counter with her feet dangling.
She made a small sound of surprise, her fingers flying to my shoulders for balance.
Our faces were level now. Close enough I could count the freckles scattered across the tops of her cheeks and nose.
I stepped back before I did something stupid, like kiss them. Kiss her. “Boot off.”
She fumbled with the laces. After watching her struggle, I brushed her hands aside and did it myself.
Soaked through, the leather had swollen. I worked it carefully, and her leg tensed when I had to tug.
“Sorry,” I said.
“Just get it over with.”
Her sharp inhale when the boot finally came free told me exactly how much it hurt.
The bandage underneath was equally wet. I unwound it slowly, revealing the burn beneath. Blistered. Angry red around the edges. A wound that would fester if left untreated.
“This is from the fire maze,” I said.
“Obviously.”
“You walked through the fortress and wherever else you’ve been on this.”
“I didn’t have a choice.”
I opened the tin. The salve inside was the good kind, the blend our highest-ranked healers made. They’d infused it with a spell that would make a wound heal in half its usual time.
“This is going to hurt,” I said.
“Everything hurts.”
I scooped salve onto my fingers and smoothed it over the burn, working as gently as I could. She hissed, her fingers digging into my shoulders.
“Breathe,” I said.
“I am breathing.”
“You’re not.”
She exhaled shakily. Her grip on my shoulders loosened but didn’t let go.
I worked the salve into the edges of the burn, and she trembled under my hands.
I finished treating the wound and wrapped a fresh bandage around her foot, the kind that would hold through a day of flying.
When I finished, I didn’t step back or straighten.
“There,” I said, looking up at her through my lashes. “Better?”
She flexed her foot and nodded. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
I gently slid her foot back into her boot. “These boots are ruined. You’ll need new for the race.”
“I’ll be sure to order them from the bootmaker, Sire.”
Her sarcasm came through clear in her voice.
“Good,” I said. “Decent equipment will make all the difference.”
Her head cocked, and sadness touched her face before she smoothed it. “What makes you think commons have access to anything decent?”
“You should.”
Her lips thinned. “I agree.”
I forced myself to step back and handed her the tin. “Keep it. You’ll need it again.”
She took it, her fingers brushing mine. The contact was brief. It seared anyway.
“Why are you soaked through?” I asked again, struggling to maintain a normal tone. I wanted to make her tell me why she wasn’t comfortably settled in her bed instead of traipsing around the castle when someone wanted her dead.
“Contrary to belief, the elite don’t own our private time.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“Why do you care?” she asked.
“I shouldn’t.”
“You’re damn right you shouldn’t.”
Yet I did.
“Two men tried to kill you,” I said.
“And you killed them.”
“I’d do it again.” My voice hollowed out.
“Why?”
Because the thought of anyone harming her made me want to rip through the world until nothing remained but us.
I couldn’t tell her that either.
I had the power to destroy her with one word. She knew it. I knew it. But she also knew I wouldn’t.
Her eyes drifted across my face before they dropped to my hands.
I looked down to find them still shaking. Or newly shaking.
When I looked back up, her expression had changed, though I couldn’t define it.
Something about her sitting on the kitchen counter, shivering, yet still defying me, was bravest thing I’d ever seen.
“You’re not going to die in the race,” I snarled.
“The odds suggest otherwise.”
“You shouldn’t use Lykor. He can barely fly.”
Her lips twitched, but she didn’t look away. “He’s all I have.”
“He’s broken.”
“So am I.”
He’d saved her life by shielding her with his body, but his wing needed time to heal, time he didn’t have. Racing him was suicide, though no other noble would notice or care.
“I’ll…see what I can do.”
Her chin lifted. “I’ve already taken care of it.”
“How?”
She compressed her lips, saying nothing.
I sighed out a growl and backed away from her when all I wanted to do was touch her.
Kiss her.
“You’re packing wrong,” I said with a huff, turning to the sack still lying on the counter beside her.
She blinked. “What?”
I grabbed her bag and dumped everything out.
She reached for the sack. “Wait—”
“This will mold in two days.” I held up the bread. “You need dried biscuits. There are some in the pack in your room.”
“Someone said there would be five trials. I might need more.”
Hence her stealing from the kitchen.
“Pantry. Left side.” I was already moving, grabbing what she’d need. Dried meat. Biscuits I wrapped in oiled cloth. A water flask, though I’d already made sure she had a good one. Small containers of fresh produce and fruit, spelled to ensure they wouldn’t rot.
I packed it the way I’d been taught. Weight distributed, most-used items accessible.
“Why do you know where everything is?” she asked.
Because I’d been trained to survive anything except the soft look in her eyes when she realized I was helping her.
“Why wouldn’t I?” I said instead.