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Hawl’s nostrils flared. “She is fine.”

My chest tightened. “You sure you don’t want to tell me the truth? Because I’m going to see for myself in a moment.”

The bear huffed. “She read the letter.”

I exhaled in impatience. “And?”

“She cried.”

Something hot and protective surged beneath my ribs. Of course she did. My heart clenched thinking about my girl sitting upstairs alone with tear-tracked cheeks. “You—” I stopped myself, just barely. I wanted to take this out on the bear, but I was pretty sure the bear hadn’t written the letter. Hell, I didn’t even know if bears knew how to write. Even in Camelot.

But it was too late. The Ursidaur’s head inclined toward mine. I saw sharp teeth behind black lips. “You believe I harmed her?”

I bared my fangs. “I mean, you did bring the letter.”

“A letter she needed to read.” The bear’s eyes seemed to narrow. “She did not cry because of me. I would not cause her harm.”

“Methinks the bear has their fur up,” I snapped before I could help myself. “Here’s what you’re not saying. Pendragon needs me. Now, are you going to get out of my way or not?”

The bear studied me. There was nothing benevolent about their stare. They were judging me—silently but somehow loudly. I knew because I’d met plenty of highbloods. But this felt … a little different. More parental. I knew I was being evaluated by someone who had loved Medra since she was small enough to be carried. I knew I was standing in front of the kind of creature who didn’t give a shit about my title or my house or my bloodline. A creature who might, even now, be weighing whether or not they should let me keep breathing.

Then, “She does not need you.”

I stared back at the bear. “That’s bullshit.”

Hawl growled. “Watch your tongue, cub.”

“I’m not your fucking cub.” I inhaled, tried again. “But respectfully, Hawl the Ursidaur, that’s bullshit.” Hawl’s expression didn’t change, but they also didn’t growl again. Had I just earned myself a point for using manners?

“Medra has survived without you. She has survived men who believed they owned her. She has survived betrayal. Loss. Bloodshed.”

“I’m aware,” I said tightly. “You know, I was even there for some of it. Might have saved her from a little of the bloodshed. You weren’t around, though, so what would you know? I’m the one who’s been there for her these past two years. Me.”

“She does not need you,” Hawl repeated, as if saying it to me enough times might actually convince me it was true.

I bared my fangs. “She’s strong enough not to need me, you’re right about that. But she does. Want. Me.”

We stared at one another. Hawl’s paw tightened on the ax. For a heartbeat, I wondered if I’d have to fight a bear in my own common room. Then Hawl said, very stiffly, “She asked where you’d gone.”

There it was.

The bear looked at me, their eyes dangerous. “Do not look at me as if you know her pain better than I do,” Hawl rumbled.

I lifted a hand, palm out. Not in surrender. Just acknowledgment.

“You’ve known her all her life,” I said simply. “But I know what it looks like when she hurts and tries to hide it.”

Hawl stared at me in silence for a long moment. The ax didn’t swing. Finally, “What are your intentions with Medra Pendragon?”

My intentions. I’d asked Nyxaris the same thing a few nights ago. I almost laughed out loud. But I knew that would be the wrong move if I did, maybe my last one. The bear hadn’t asked Do you love her? Though, I did. Nor had they asked Are you worthy? Because we both knew I wasn’t. Not even Will you marry her? Because within highblood tradition, Pendragon and I were already bound. The bloodmarks on our wrists were proof of that. I wondered if she’d told Hawl I couldn’t live without her—literally. I wondered if she’d told them about Regan and how I’d set my other consort aside. The optics of that weren’t great, so I kind of hoped not.

My jaw tightened. I had to force myself to breathe. I knew that for all intents and purposes, I wasn’t really talking to Hawl right now at all. I was speaking to a standin for Medra’s aunt and uncle. To the people who were the closest thing to living, breathing parents she’d ever have. Orcades was her mother, yes. But I’d never be able to look Orcades in the face.

So I didn’t talk back. I answered the question. “I intend to keep her alive. I intend to guard her and keep her safe. I intend to be there for her—always. I intend to be the one she can always fall apart with, without any consequences.” I took a breath, and my voice came out a little rougher than I’d meant. “There is no one else in this world or any other for me but Medra Pendragon. I care nothing for power, my house, not even the Veil. None of it has any meaning. Nothing but her.”

Hawl watched me, their round eyes unblinking.

I shifted my stance, hands curling into fists. “I’d die before I let anyone take her from me. And I’d kill anyone who kept me from getting to her.”