Page 172 of Feralheart

“It’ll be alright. I know you won’t hurt me.”

I held the wound together and started sewing. It took ten stitches to close, but at least it had stopped bleeding.

“I’ll take them out in a week,” I said, then realized that both of us could be dead long before the stitches would need to come out. “Or a healer can do it for you.”

He captured my hand and held it, his gaze locking on mine. “You’ll do it for me.”

“Very well, Your Highness.”

“Fen. You called me Fen before.”

My breath caught. “They’ll kill me if they hear.”

“I wouldn’t let them near enough to do it.”

He shouldn’t say such things. A commons and a royal was so forbidden, I was sure the world would scorch over if it was spoken aloud.

“You’re not going to be around all the time.” I knelt beside him again and unscrewed the salve jar, my hands steady now that I had something to do.

“Watch me.”

I didn’t know how to answer, so I poked my finger into the jar.

Heat gathered in my palms as I applied the salve to his wound, red lines glowing beneath my skin.

He lifted the blade with his good hand, holding it up in the light. Not a common weapon. The ornate hilt had a marking I didn’t recognize.

Fen glared at the blade.

“Recognize it?” I asked.

“Never seen it before in my life,” he said, but there was something in his expression that made me doubt his answer.

He placed it on the table on the opposite side of the bed.

“Everyone’s trial was different,” he said as I gently applied a second coating of salve. “Did you hear?”

“Just fragments. Lyndie and Reece faced crystals that shot at them until they worked together.”

“Some faced their fears. Others had to solve puzzles or survive attacks.” He paused. “But ours tested choice. Whether we’d pick each other over…”

“Over what?” I didn’t look up from his shoulder.

“Over everything I’m supposed to be.”

My hands stilled before I tugged out herbs that would fight infection and ease the pain. I rubbed them between my palms, combining and crushing them, before carefully applying them to his wound. My magic added depth. Soothing. Healing in ways salve and bandages couldn’t.

“The trials supposedly come from the fates,” he said in a soft voice. “From ancient magic beyond the kingdom’s touch. But what if someone could influence them? Make suggestions or give nudges?”

I gaped up at him before returning to his wound. “Who could do that?”

“Someone with incredible power,” he said. “Access. Someone who needed to verify if I truly was compromised.”

I lifted a clean bandage and pressed it to his wound, keeping the herbs in place and juggled for a roll of material I could wrap around his arm and chest to keep the bandage secure. “The queen.”

“Or one of her councilors. They’re all powerful enough to do something this bad.” His throat worked on a swallow. “A messenger imp delivered a scroll to someone yesterday.”

“I saw one tonight too.” I told him about it and how I’d later seen Lady Severine with Lord Andra.