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Finally, he turned to me as Emilia handed over a wet, sour-smelling cloth. Anticipating what I’d need next, she also set down a small kit containing a needle and thick thread.

“I can’t believe this is all back here,” Vale murmured. “I’ve wanted to see it for so long and here I am.”

“Thank the stars for it.” He winced as I started dabbing the injury. “Sorry. I’ll be as gentle as possible.”

“Do what you must. I can handle the pain.”

From then on, I worked in silence, cleaning the wound and trying not to notice that this was the closest we’d been since I learned about my ancestry.

Once the blood was gone and the wound was clearly visible, I sighed.

“You lucked out.” I palmed the numbing balm and began rubbing it on his skin. “That blade could have hit so many things if he’d run you through with it.”

“Assassins know how to strike to disable rather than kill. For all the vampire’s bluster, he inflicted this wound on purpose.”

Killing a born prince, while poetic justice, perhaps, would invite war. At least if I died, the Blood Court could say that it was the dead gods’ vengeance or something of the sort, but Vale was innocent and royal by blood. We were not the same.

Except we actually were. I was just the only one of us who knew just how similar we were.

“How long does it take for the balm to work, Emilia?” I asked. She’d been sitting by, waiting to be of help.

“Only a few minutes.”

Vale blinked and rubbed his head.

“How’s your head?” I asked, concerned for what I could not see. The chest wound, while messy, was far less mysterious.

“I think I’ll be fine,” Vale said. “My temple throbs, but part of that could be from the ale. I had too much last night.”

I held back my‘you don’t say?’comment. Vale might not even remember Sian, who’d been acting as an additional guard down the hallway until Vale returned. His friend had needed to help the prince into the room. No use in making him feel bad that if he’d been clearheaded, he could have dealt with the vampire more effectively.

“Emilia, can you get him water and food?” Then, noting his clothing and my own nightdress, I added, “we’ll need new clothes and cloaks too. Can you find some?”

We only had to go to Luccan Riis’s place, but that was far enough for a vampire to recognize us. Cloaks weren’t just ways to stay warm but excellent disguises.

“I’ll take care of everything,” Emilia assured me. “Thebalm should be working well by now. The needle and thread have a spell on them to keep them clean, so you needn’t worry about those.” My heart gave a stutter. I hadn’t even considered how the tools might be different.

“You can do it. I’m sure of it.” Emilia gave me an encouraging smile and left the room.

“Are you ready?” I picked up the needle and thread Emilia had set out for me. The thread was smoother to the touch. The needle curved at the end too. Though it seemed preposterous, I hoped that some of my mother’s healing gift passed down to me and I’d excel at suturing. “Because this might hurt,” I said as I finished threading the needle. “I’m sorry if it does.”

“I can handle it.”

“I’ve never sewn up skin.”

“I have, but I can’t do it on my own. Not with the angle of this wound, anyway.” Vale nodded down, and I tried to envision him awkwardly sewing up his own upper chest. Yes, that would certainly be a sight. “One stitch at a time, Neve. Go as slow as you need. We’re safe.”

I nodded at his assurance and went to work, pulling together the skin at the end of the wound and applying one stitch at a time, like Vale had said, and I’d seen Yvette do once to a slave who tripped and cut open their leg. The materials we had differed. Tonight, I had proper healing supplies, while Yvette had needed to boil normal thread and the needle, but the idea was similar. One step at a time, one stitch.

At times, I needed Vale to pull his skin closer together, which he did without complaint. I worked tirelessly, tryingnot to notice how the lines of the tattoos on his chest were not quite straight anymore. How I wasn’t stitching perfectly. Instead, I focused on Vale, making sure I wasn’t hurting him. Had I not been paying attention to the times that his breathing deepened, I would have thought that he was unaffected.

“Tell meif it hurts,” I insisted. “I can pause and give you a moment.”

“It’s not that,” Vale said. “I can feel your magic.”

I stopped stitching. “Excuse me?”

“With each touch, I can feel your magic. It’s faint, but there. Do you sense it loosening?”