Page 85 of Revealing Fate

“I…” Oh, gods. How did she verbalize such a complex thing? The fear she’d initially felt when he’d captured her. The captivation of seeing his face for the first time. Dread when she thought Adder had killed him. Her reluctance to leave him for the scales in the Trade Master’s tent. Her jealousy at thinking he and Meryl were romantically involved. The longing that had nearly overwhelmed her when Kal had led her around the dance floor, the scent of honeyed bourbon on his warm breath, his lips inches from her own. The profound sense of relief when Kal materialized out of the darkness and saved her from her father’s hunters. The first time he’d kissed her. “I…”

Kal released her wrist, interpreting her hesitance as reluctance. “It’s okay.”

“No, Kal, I⁠—”

“Kitty,” he said. “Sometimes silence succeeds where words fail.”

But she had the words, inadequate as they might be. Three words that encompassed everything she felt, and yet weren’t capable of withstanding what she still had to choose. Because love wasn’t just a feeling. It was also a choice. And her choices had never been easy. Felíne still had a responsibility to her people. As much as she wanted to choose Kal, as fervently as she hoped he would choose her in return, she could never be his. And that truth was one she didn’t have words for.

Kal eased to his feet and disappeared down the hall. When he returned, he had a wooden splint, a tin of salve, and additional bandages.

“Actually,” Felíne said, picking at her still-soggy clothes. “I should probably change first.”

Kal set the mending supplies on a low table. “That’s my fault. Come on. I’ve got clothes you can wear.”

Once Felíne had scrubbed the remaining sweat and damp chill from her skin and donned a fresh linen tunic and a baggier set of loose cotton trousers, she returned to the living room. Kal helped her splint her wrist. When he removed the bandage covering the grimalkin’s injury, he paused.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, glancing down at herself.

“It’s healing quickly,” he said.

He wasn’t wrong. The wound that had been angry and raw just a few nights before had faded to a deep pink along the suture lines. The swelling, which had still been present even that morning, had decreased substantially. So had the pain, considering the analgesics she’d taken must have worn off hours ago.

“But how?”

Kal shrugged. “Shurii heal rapidly in second form. Some quicker than others.”

She knew that. “But I have no second form.”

His dark brow pinched. “Maybe your first form possesses that same resilience. Have you ever injured yourself before?”

Felíne shook her head. “Not seriously. I fractured my wrist falling out of a tree, but it wasn’t significant. And I got pneumonia after jumping into the moat when I was little. That was worse.”

Kal’s brows reached toward his hairline. “You jumped into a moat?”

“Why is everyone so surprised by that?”

“Maybe because it’s very un-princess-like.”

“Yes, well, I didn’t much care for the confines of titles when I was young.”

Kal chuckled. The sound was warm. She’d missed hearing it. “You and me both.”

Felíne studied him. “You know the feeling?”

Kal rubbed a thick salve over the pink lines of her injury. “Yes. I grew up with the weight of both my parents’ titles and their expectations.”

That’s right. His mother was the Bladesinger of Ilistaar, a title she’d inherited from her father. And his father had been the original artisan of silverskin. The Infallible Aegis, they’d called him. “Were you meant to inherit those titles?”

“I think my father hoped I would. My grandfather certainly expected it. My mother didn’t care. She just wanted me to find my path in life. To choose a passion, some sense of purpose, and dedicate myself to it.”

“What did you find?” Felíne asked, eager for a deeper glimpse into his past.

Kal’s fingers faltered. He reached for a fresh sheet of linen to conceal the hesitation, but Felíne was watching him too closely. She’d caught it. “I believe you’re asking what I might have found, had things been different.” She knew what he meant. If his family hadn’t been murdered by mine. “I can’t answer that. I’m not that boy anymore.”

“And the man?”

Kal secured the bandage with a gentle tug and sat back. “The man is still looking.”