41. Eradin
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
ERADIN
Ibraced myself on my hands and knees, my legs shaking, trying to stop the tremor from crawling up my arms.
“Is it over?” I asked, seeing no one else around.
“I think so.”
Unless they’d all died and this was still part of the latest test. Was such a thing possible?
Fen got up and went to Aristus, returning to kneel in front of me, dropping a small pack between us.
While I settled on the ground because getting up felt like it would take more effort than I possessed, he opened the bag and pulled out a jar of salve.
He unscrewed the top and tossed it aside.
His finger dipped in and he leaned close, his finger extended…
“What are you doing?” I scrambled backward so fast my boot caught on a root or a rock, and I went down on my ass.
“I’m going to take care of your wound.” He didn’t move closer, but his expression had changed from the careful prince mask to something more aware. “Unless you’d prefer to do it yourself.”
“Obviously I’d prefer that.”
“Then why aren’t you?” He held up the jar. “Your hands are shaking too badly to do it, that’s why.”
“Alright.” I held out my arm, keeping my eyes on Selira instead of his face. “But make it quick.”
My skin felt too tight, like I’d grown another size in the last three seconds. I was hyperaware of the calluses on his finger, the warmth radiating from his body, and how my breathing had gone uneven. This was ridiculous. He was treating my wounds.
Except…he wanted me.
That changed everything.
“I’ll be thorough.” When his finger touched my arm, I flinched, though it didn’t hurt. He was being gentle.
His brow creased, the same expression he’d worn when working on Aristus last night. Taking care of someone mattered to him in a way I hadn’t expected. He treated my wound like it was important. Like I was important.
I bit down hard on my tongue to hold myself together.
“That’s going to make this difficult,” he said softly.
“What in particular, because I can think of more than one thing?”
“You flinching every time I touch you.”
“I’m not—”
His finger moved to the other wound I hadn’t noticed, this one on my other wrist.
I locked every muscle to keep from pulling away. “See? Not flinching.”
“You’re holding your breath.”
Leave it to him to notice. “Just finish.”
I knew why I felt so bristly.
He wanted me. I kept repeating it in my mind, but the words didn’t line up. How could he when I was commons and he was the crown prince?
I felt too raw and exposed from what the magic had shown us.
He dabbed at one spot after another. His fingers found a graze on my temple. He worked the salve in carefully, his other hand steadying my jaw. Too close. His sweet breath drifted across my cheek. I could count his eyelashes from here if I was stupid enough to look up.
“It… It can’t mean anything,” I said, my voice coming out much too wispy.
I wasn’t angry at him. I was angry that someone caring about me felt dangerous.
I wanted to let him close but couldn’t afford to.
Everything he did made me want more and more.
And wanting anything from an elite had only ever ended in pain.
“Or maybe it could.” His lips curled up on one side.
Was he actually enjoying this?
Selira nudged Aristus, her snout gentle against his neck. Aristus nuzzled back, coiling his neck around hers.
Our dragons were courting.
We were a disaster.
Joy poured through our bond, pure and uncomplicated in a way I couldn’t remember feeling. Selira had found something she’d been searching for, and it had found her back. No politics or impossibility or class divides. Just adoration.
His wants mine and mine wants his, she said. Simple.
Nothing about this was simple. But for her, maybe it was.
Fenian finished, and I had to admit, the wounds felt better. He reached out to grab the cover, starting to screw it back on.
I held out my hand, palm up, the glowing lines exposed. “Give that to me.”
“Did I miss a spot?”
Now he sounded sly.
“I’ll do you.”
“Do exactly what to me?”
The air charged between us, and all I could think of was his mouth on mine when we passed the pearl. We hadn’t been kissing.
Not too much, that is.
“I’ll care for your wounds,” I said, still too wispy. “Nothing else.”
“You’re sure about that?”
He’d read my thoughts, so he knew exactly what I’d been thinking about doing with him for far too long. How in the world was I going to sleep tonight? The moment my control relaxed, I’d feel his longing.
My fingers trembled as I poked my fingertip into the jar.
“Take off your tunic,” I said.
He frowned before doing what I asked, no tease coming along with it.
I swallowed and tried to ignore all his muscles just…hanging out, waiting for me to touch them. He had broad shoulders. A solid chest. And a ripcord abdomen.
What I could see of it, that is. Above his pants.
“You’re staring,” he whispered, the air from his words brushing across my face.
“I’m not. I’m helping you.”
“Ah. Helping.”
I’d swear I heard humor in his voice.
I finished with his chest and dabbed salve on a shoulder wound, trying to remain clinical. But my magic had other ideas. Heat poured from my palms into his skin, and I felt the exact moment he registered what was happening.
His hand caught my wrist. Holding.
The magical connection had faded, but I didn’t need it anymore. I could read him in the way his fingers trembled and the jerk of his throat when he swallowed.
“Your magic responds to intent, doesn’t it?” he asked softly.
I couldn’t answer, because he was right, and now my intent was tangled up in how close he was, how his pulse jumped under my fingers, and how badly I wanted to—
“There.” I jerked my hand back, nearly dropping the jar. “You’re done.”
He didn’t call me on it. He didn’t need to. The way his hand lingered a second too long before letting go said everything.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“You’re good at this,” he said, his voice low and husky.
“It doesn’t mean anything.”
He cocked his head, his gaze seeking mine. “Is that where we’re going now?”
The words hung between us. Challenge and invitation and dare all at once.
“Where else?” I said.
“Pity,” he murmured, softly enough I almost missed it.
He sat so close, I could see the exact gray of his eyes, darker around the pupils, lighter at the edges. If I leaned forward and he leaned forward and—
Neither of us moved.
His gaze dropped to my mouth long enough it felt like a touch.
He leaned back, putting distance between us. “We should get up.”
“We should.”
Neither of us moved. The air between us felt charged with all the things we’d learned about each other through magic we couldn’t control. We were both scared of what happened next.
“This can’t happen,” I said, but my voice had lost its conviction somewhere between his thumb on my wrist and the way he’d looked at my mouth.
“You’re right.”
“You’re the crown prince. I steal food from your kitchens.”
“I’m well aware of that too.” Frustration flickered across his face. “But our dragons have already decided, so perhaps we don’t get a choice.”
“There’s always a choice.”
“Is there?” His gaze dropped to where my hands rested on my lap, the red lines glowing beneath the salve. “Because from where I’m sitting, we’ve both been choosing this for longer than we’re willing to admit.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” The words came out harsh, but I couldn’t soften them. “You’ve been choosing between privileged options your whole life. I’ve been choosing between survival and death. Those aren’t the same thing.”
“You’re right again,” he said quietly. “They’re not.”
“You are the crown’s most beautiful weapon, Fenian Lancifer,” I said in a low voice.
“Right three times.” He wrapped his fingers around my wrist again. His thumb found my pulse point and stayed there. His breathing went shallow.
Every part of me screamed to put distance between us before this became something I couldn’t undo.
His thumb pressed harder, feeling my heartbeat kick.
“Eradin—”
Selira’s warning growl vibrated through the open area.
Others appeared in the cavern, some riding their dragons, others landing hard on the ground like we had, equally soaking wet, their dragons coming in separately.
I met Fen’s gaze but dragged mine away, and we both rose to our feet.
The prince was attracted to me.
I craved him equally.
The next trial would probably kill us.
I wasn’t sure which was the worst disaster.