23. Bloodied Hands #2
After a moment, the deep lines between his brows relaxed.
His eyes stayed closed as he softly said, “Whatever is true or false, it means nothing. There is only what is possible and what is not. Don’t concern yourself with me, I beg you.
” He drew in a deep breath. “Believe me when I say, I would never do anything to make you uncomfortable, Your Majesty. And I will not be distracted from my duty. Of that, you can rest assured.”
My arms trembled where they pressed against his stomach.
I felt every rise and fall of his breath, and the shockingly warm blood pooling beneath my fingers.
I realized then that I’d never really touched him before of my own volition.
Between the way I was tending to his wound and the words he’d spoken—the broader meaning swimming just under the surface—this was all so… intimate .
My gut instinct was to pull away—cut off the contact and bury this conversation in the annals of things I would never think of, nor talk about, again. But I owed him a debt of gratitude. One I didn’t know if I could ever repay.
Although we’d reconciled our differences after he’d been cleared of all suspicion before the Council of Ancients, a sliver of guilt still gnawed at my heart. To know now that he would still admit to these feelings after the way I’d treated him brought me to insurmountable shame.
I didn’t know what my dream of him truly meant, but I didn’t have the capacity to marshal my emotions. There was too much else going on—too much at stake to afford those kinds of distractions.
“I know you wouldn’t,” I finally said, focusing my gaze on the wound beneath my bloody fingers. “You are not…” I drew in a sharp breath. “You are not that kind of man, and I’m ashamed I ever thought so little of you. I know you’ve said I am forgiven, but I believe I still have amends to make.”
“No—”
“Whatever you may think about what is possible or not, I am Queen,” I cut in, not unkindly.
“I can do as I wish. And I would be honored… if I could call you my friend, Corbyn.” If nothing else, it was a start.
There was time to figure out the rest later.
I chanced a look at his face and found his dark eyes brimming with surprise.
Despite the circumstances, he actually smiled.
It was small, and it brought a remarkable warmth to the sharp angles of his face.
He opened his mouth to reply but the echo of several pairs of feet coming down the hall cut off whatever he meant to say.
His head turned toward the door, the smile slipping from his face.
I looked over my shoulder as Trygg entered the room. His eyes were still heavy with worry, which only increased when he saw how I pressed against the wound. Lenn settled in behind him, gesturing for Helene to enter the small space.
She swept into the room gracefully and took stock of the situation in a single glance, waving me aside.
I backed off the stool, only releasing the cloth when I could no longer reach him.
Corbyn winced sharply at the withdrawal, but Helene was right there, comforting pink light already pouring from her fingertips.
“ Myrkva ?” she asked, keeping her eyes trained on the bloody, ragged cut.
“Yes,” I answered for him. Blood-soaked hands stretched before me, I watched as beads of the red liquid dripped off them, pooling on the floor. My white pants were smeared with it, utterly ruined. I didn’t give a damn.
Helene hummed softly and Corbyn relaxed under her influence. “The wound is deep,” she said, ghosting her palm over his stomach. “It will take me some time to heal fully, but he will live.”
The report sent a rush of relief through me. If the news had been any worse, I wasn’t sure how I would react. At least I wouldn’t have to find out.
Trygg stood braced against the doorway, and I sensed his piercing gaze on me. I looked over, seeing the same relief mirrored in his eyes. He turned toward Corbyn with that self-assured smirk plastered on his face.
“Nice try, Arlbright,” he said, “but you’re stuck with me for a little while yet.”
Corbyn choked out a strained laugh but made no attempt at a reply.
I’d never seen them interact in such a familiar way.
It made me wonder about their dynamic when I wasn’t around—what they were truly like.
I’d thought it might be awkward for Corbyn, being placed in a position of apparent superiority over the son of his king. But these two seemed almost… friendly.
I looked between them only a moment longer. “I’m sorry to spring this on you now,” I interjected, “but there simply wasn’t time yesterday. And I am doubly sorry, considering your current health, Talon Arlbright. But we have a ceremony to perform this evening.”
Trygg cocked his head at me, crossing his arms over his chest. “Ceremony?”
“Yes, your ah… Your oath-taking ceremony, Talon Trygg.” He straightened up at that, and I couldn’t help the embarrassment that washed over me.
I would never forgive myself for forgetting about this damned event.
“Things have been a little hectic since your arrival,” I continued, dropping my hands to my sides, “but we must carry on with the usual way of things. When Talon Arlbright has rested a bit, he can fill you in on the details.”
“Will he even be well enough to attend?” Trygg looked over at his kinsman.
Helene glanced up from her work. “I expect between my influence and your people’s natural inclination toward rapid healing, he will be quite well by lunchtime today.”
Trygg gave her an appraising look and shrugged. “Fine by me,” he said.
“Good.” I moved forward, crossing the small room in a few steps and exiting back into the corridor. “I will leave you two to rest and prepare,” I said, casting one last look at Corbyn.
“We’ll be there.” Trygg gave a curt nod.
Awkwardness settled over the room. I turned to hide the unexpected flush that crept into my cheeks, escaping to the corridor. Lenn followed, but there was no comforting warmth from his presence. Everything was crumbling around me.
First Lukas and the strangeness with Corbyn, then the frightening turn of events at the Southern Gate, and now this frosty silence from Lenn. The thoughts tortured me as I walked. And my hands left a staggered trail of Corbyn’s blood down the corridor, haunting my every step.