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Arrik placed his hand along the boy’s pulse at his wrist. “No. He still lives.”

“He’s just a boy,” she whispered.

He stood up, his heart still pounding. Arrik felt as though he should be out of breath, but he wasn’t. The thrill of the fight lingered. The dispatching of the assassin had been quick. He barely had to do anything at all. But now that the immediate danger was over relief crashed over him. He’d saved his fourth wife.

That did not mean she was safe, though, nor him. There would be another attempt on her life.

He ran a hand over his face and paced alongside the bed, Wren’s gaze roaming over him. Whoever had sent the boy had chosen him on purpose. Was it another game? Another way to try and break Arrik? All knew his stance on children. They deserved to be protected, cherished, and loved. Not used and abused. It happed too often in Verlanti.

He kicked a piece of shattered dish and sat on the edge of his bed before he could stop himself, not caring that the princess stiffened as he did so. It was his bloody bed. She’d have to get over it.

“Do your own people truly hate you so much that they’d have you killed?” she asked, sounding as if she very much did not believe it. “The reaction of the people in your father’s court would lead me to believe that to be a falsehood.”

Dark humor filled him as it always did when he thought about the attempts on his life. He chuckled as the deep blue sky began to lighten just a touch. “I have been the target of assassins for longer than I care to remember,” he admitted. “They seem to come in waves—an attempt every night for a week or so, then nothing for several months or years. But they have never managed to best me. They always fail.” A pause, then Arrik added, “Well, in killing me, anyway.”

Wren rolled her eyes, but at least she finally seemed open to engage in conversation. She narrowed her eyes at Arrik, clearly seeing right down to the root of his problem. “Why would they try to kill you? What secrets are you hiding?”

He shrugged. No point in hiding it. “Most of the court do not know I am the eldest of Soren’s children,” Arrik admitted. “Yes, bastard born, but the eldest. Almost everyone believes me to be the second son. My father had my birthdate changed to avoid any complications…regarding who was the heir to the throne.”

Wren said nothing in response, as if she were processing everything Arrik had told her quickly and efficiently, going over everything in her head to work out if he was lying to her or not. And Arrik would know—he did the same thing whenever anyone toldhimanything.

“Not that any of that matters. They weren’t here for me.”

Her brows furrowed together, and she wiggled in the blankets. “They were here for me?”

“Yes.”

A myriad of emotions crossed her face. “Why?”

That was the question of the day. “If I knew, I would tell you.” He rolled his neck and stared down at the boy that was out cold on his floor. “You’re the first wife I have managed to save.”

Wren gurgled. “So you haven’t been killing your wives?”

“No.”

He peeked at her from the corner of his eye, and she frowned at her lap. “So you’re not a rapist or a killer?”

He barked out a laugh. “I am a killer, just not of people undeserving of it.”

Her face snapped in his direction. “My family deserved death?” she hissed.

Arrik shouldn’t have opened his mouth. “Your family were the unfortunate casualties in a war our sires have been secretly carrying out for years.”

“We weren’t the ones who attacked and invaded!”

He met her angry glare squarely. “Your father sent an assassin to Soren. He was wounded but managed to survive. That was his first mistake. If you want to kill someone, you do it yourself. Never trust someone else.”

“How dare you! My father would do no such thing!”

“You’d be surprised what men will do to protect the ones they love.”

“I don’t believe you,” she said finally.

“You don’t have to. The truth doesn’t change just because you refuse to accept reality.” He sighed. “For what it is worth, I am sorry for the loss of your family. Losing a parent isn’t something that ever leaves you.” He knew he shouldn’t tell her anything, much less all about his secrets. Wren was a prisoner—and the sole remaining heir to a neighboring kingdom.

You’re getting too personal.

They lapsed into silence as the sky lightened to navy blue. Dawn was close.