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I was impressed. Not just by the fortitude of my lady-in-waiting, but by how the prince acted. His gruff demeanor from the night before was nowhere in sight. He seemed so different from the faeries I’d run into in the hallways. Also the person Roar had told me about.

I did not have long to wonder at this, however, for the pair got to work. First, Clemencia washed my legs and Prince Vale swept in after her, extracting the smaller bits of glass higher up. There were fewer shards than in my hands, so that didn’t take long. Once they finished, the prince applied a tourniquet in preparation for extracting the larger piece and pointed to the bandage roll. My lady-in-waiting set to cutting off a length as Prince Vale moved around my leg. “I’m going to lift it now. Apologies for the proximity.” His wings tightened and flexed behind him, and his jaw ticked. The prince looked so uncomfortable, and yet, for a moment, something else flashed in his eyes that I couldn’t pinpoint.

“It will be fine.” I waved off his concern.

He reached beneath my thigh and lifted my leg enough to allow Clemencia to slide the bandage beneath. At the prince’s touch, my skin burned. He gripped me so tightly the callouses on his fingers and palms pressed into me, making me extra aware of our closeness. I swallowed.

“Are you alright?” Prince Vale caught my gaze.

“I am.”

“Good. I’m going to pull the shard out now. There will be blood.”

“You should look away, my lady,” Clemencia whispered.

“I want to see.” It was my body, and for so long, I hadn’t had a choice over what happened to me. I’d watched Prince Vale extract every other shard of glass, and I’d do the same for the final one.

The prince studied me, approval flashed in his eyes, and he reached down and pulled.

Pain shot through me, and blood gushed. I hissed and jolted, but the prince held my leg tightly, pressing his chest against my outer thigh to still me. Clemencia proved quick and skilled as she wrapped the bandage around my leg and tied it up.

Once the bandage had been set, he lowered my leg, released me, and studied the binding. “Well done. It seems to contain the blood, so the shard didn’t go as deep as I thought. Thank the stars, and thank you for your help, Clem.”

“It’s Clemencia,” she corrected him.

“Apologies. Lady Neve called you Clem.”

For a moment, my lady’s eyes darted to me. A hint of a smile flitted across her lips. “She did, but we do not know one another like I know her, my prince. For now, Clemencia will do.”

He seemed nonplussed by this, no doubt used to boundaries with his staff, but my heart swelled. The nickname had slipped out, but I’d thought it a few times and wondered if Clemencia would care. Maybe she considered us friends.

“Your Highness?” Clemencia ventured.

“Yes?”

“I was wondering, what will happen to the attackers?” My lady-in-waiting watched him expectantly.

Prince Vale stayed silent for a moment before he answered. “My father will decide their fates, but I can tell you they are in the dungeons now.”

“Were they rebels?” Clemencia pressed. “Anti-monarchists?”

“I suspect both,” he replied with a twist of his lips. “They were aiming for my father, not Warden Roar. Although I am certain they were not upset to hit him as the warden is an important figure.”

It was the first time that Prince Vale spoke about Roar in an even remotely positive way. To be fair, he did not seem to relish it, but spoke it more like an unfortunate fact.

Another Master Healer arrived—not the first faerie who had denied me care, but a fae race that I couldn’t quite place.

“There’s an ankle to heal?” The healer’s tone sounded lyrical.

Prince Vale pointed at me. “Lady Neve, Warden Roar’s fiancée.”

“Oh, dear.” The healer looked at me with wide eyes. “You’ll be happy to know that your fiancé is still asleep but healing nicely. We’re performing layered enchantments on him now.”

“Wonderful,” I said with a soft exhale.

She approached and laid a hand on my ankle. Her touch felt rough, like tree bark, and her race of fae became clear; she was a dryad. It surprised me as her skin didn’t look like bark, nor was her hair a vivid shade of pink, blue, or green, which seemed to be common with her kind.

“It’s quite swollen, but nothing that I cannot fix. Do you mind?” The dryad gazed up at me.