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There’s a light knocking at my door.
“Come in,” I call.
Prince Arlys enters, caution in every fiber of his being. His gaze finds mine as I sit in front of the mirror, and he freezes for a moment, before glancing away and closing the door behind him. He’s wearing a gray robe and slippers. It’s a look I wouldn’t have found masculine on anyone else, but it works for him. The robe hits his knees revealing strong legs as muscled as the rest of him.
I look away, continuing to brush my hair.
“How are your injuries?”
I glance at them, then away. “Healing.”
“Good. We’ve been worried about you. Bear attacks are genuinely fatal.”
I give him a little smile. “I guess I’m lucky then, huh?” I hesitate, then press on. “I’m actually more afraid of Prince Drogo than any bear.”
He comes to stand behind me, looking uncertain. “You know Prince Drogo would never really hurt you. Not unless he had to. This is all just very hard for him.”
My gaze finds his in the mirror. “Your father’s the one who’s sick, but you’re not acting like a castrated bull.”
He actually snorts, crossing his big arms over his chest. “Oh, this is hard for me too, I just handle things in a different way. But then, I didn’t lose my brothers in the war with the witches.”
“Is that why he’s always so angry? I remember being angry for a little while after my dad passed, but the feeling faded with time,” I say, and I’m surprised by the sadness in my voice.
He nods his head. “Being tied to one of the people he sees responsible for their death is a lot for him. I think it’d be a lot for anyone. But Prince Rinan and I can separate you from your people. We understand that you, specifically, aren’t responsible for the deaths of anyone we cared for. That’s harder for Prince Drogo to do.”
I’ve never had a sibling, but I always wondered what it would be like. Would she and I hide from our mother together? Would she nurse my wounds and I nurse hers? Could it feel like it was us against the world, instead of just me against the world?
Losing my father nearly broke me. If I had someone like that would it tear my heart out to lose them?
“I think I understand now,” I say, feeling sad. Prince Drogo may always hate me, and I need to be okay with that. “He can hate me. I don’t mind. Maybe it’ll make him feel better.”
Prince Arlys studies me for a minute before he speaks. “I don’t think he hates you.”
Based on what? All the times he’s shown he hates me? But he’s serious. So serious I almost believe him myself.
I give him a small smile. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” he says, hesitating, then continuing. “I think he likes you more than he wants to admit. We all do.”
“You have a funny way of showing it,” I tell him.
His face is gentle tonight. His shoulders look lighter. Maybe being on the road to finding the cure is all it took to bring out his gentler side.
A yawn slips past my lips.
“Tired?” he asks, and his gaze is glued to me.
I nod. For some reason, there’s a tension between us I don’t understand. There’s a way he’s watching me that feels intense and unexpected.
Putting my brush down, I swallow around the lump in my throat and head for the bed. Dropping my robe on the floor, I slip beneath the blankets, then glance back at him. He’s watching me. He does that a lot. I don’t know why.
He removes his own robe, and I watch him from beneath my lashes. Prince Arlys is leaner than Prince Drogo, but his muscles look like they’ve been carved out of stone. And with his tanned skin, paired with his green eyes and dark hair, he reminds me of the pictures I’ve seen of the fae. Every girl is warned about the stories of beautiful fae men luring women off to their lands.
“I have a question,” I say, the words escaping before I can consider them.
He’s heading for the bed. “Yes?”
“How are the three of you so tan? And, I mean, you don’t even have tan lines. How is that possible?”
