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Anthea reached out, trying to take it with her broken hand, her other hand clutching the soft gray blanket around her. The effort caused a wave of pain to crash through her, drawing out a sharp hiss from between her clenched teeth.

“You really don’t make things easy for yourself, do you?” Eldrion watched her struggle, a trace of annoyance evident in his tone.

Thalion sighed, looking toward Eldrion with an expression that said he had expected as much.

Undeterred, Anthea adjusted the blanket, using her broken arm to press it against her body. Pain flared, but it was bearable. She then freed her other hand, taking the cup successfully this time. With her back against the cold stone wall, she sipped the hot liquid.

“You should let your arm rest.” Thalion said as he turned away, walking to a large apothecary cabinet. He opened a drawer and retrieved a small glass jar.

Anthea merely lifted a shoulder in response, not ceasing her continued use of her injured arm.

“This attitude of yours . . . it won’t get you far in the Nephrite court,” Eldrion was still sitting on the small bed, his back leaning against the opposite wall.

Anthea raised her chin. Her lips pressed into a thin, rigid line. “From what I’ve seen, being submissive isn’t rewarded either.”

His brows knitted together at her statement.

She took a long sip from the mug, relishing the hot liquid as it flowed down her throat, warming her from the inside. “And besides,” Anthea forced out a casual tone despite her racing heart. “I have no interest in getting far in the Nephrite court. I only want to return to the Crimson court.” The lie left her lips easily—she had no desire to divulge her real wish—to return to her own world, away from the elven courts and their drama.

“You are in the Nephrite court now. It’d be in your best interest to learn to act accordingly and to learn your place here.” He leaned forward, placing his palms on his knees.

“Eldrion, let’s not—” Thalion began, but Anthea cut him off.

“What does that even mean, learn my place here? Is that what this is?” She gestured to her broken wrist. “Is this torture supposed to teach me my place?” Anthea directed her blazing gaze back to Eldrion. “Your teaching methods are despicable at best. All it does is instill fear and disgust.”

“Then perhaps our methods aren’t despicable enough,” he snapped back, his face hardened as he stared at her. “Because you clearly have not even learned the appropriate amount of fear yet.”

The anger that had been festering inside her for days rose its head again. Fury coursed through her veins, her control slipping. Because how dare he. She had been nothing but scared in this horrible court. And now he had the nerve, had the audacity to?—

Anthea hurled the cup at him, the liquid sloshing out of it as it flew.

Eldrion caught it with ease. Some of the hot tea splashed onto his handsome face. A satisfied smirk tugged at the corners of her lips at the sight.

The warrior was up in an instant, stalking toward her.

At the same moment, Thalion’s voice broke through. “Enough, both of you!” the elf healer’s irritation clear in his sharp words.

She’d awoken the beast, Anthea realized with a sharp intake of breath as Eldrion invaded her personal space. She was about to take a step back when his hand curled around her elbow, stopping her retreat. The truth of his earlier words dawned on her—she had learned a healthy amount of fear, but fear had never really stopped her before, had never really controlled her before—and she wasn’t about to let it control her now.

“Perhaps you should reconsider and behave.” Eldrion’s voice was a low murmur as he leaned down. His scent was filling her senses—pine and leather, and something else, something surprisingly alluring. A shiver ran through her as his fingers brushed her shoulder, adjusting the blanket that had slipped in her fit of anger. He kept his eyes on hers the whole time. His touch was gentle and careful, but Anthea wasn’t fooled. His actions carried a clear message—he was in control. She bit her lip, swallowing the protest that threatened to escape her. With a heavy sigh, she turned her face away from him, her eyes fixing on a strange metal device on the apothecary cabinet.

A soft knock pierced the silence, and then the door opened to reveal an elven woman, her form tall and slender, with a long dark brown braid falling down her back. She held a folded green fabric in her arms, her blue eyes sparkling.

Thalion looked up, a hint of relief visible in his eyes. “Elara,” he greeted her, his tone warm.

Elara returned his greeting with a respectful nod before her gaze moved to Anthea.

“We can handle things from here,” Thalion said to Eldrion. “Go, inform King Galodir of Anthea’s condition.”

Eldrion’s gray eyes lingered on Anthea for a moment longer. Then without a word, he released her arm, turned, and strode out of the room.

The moment the door closed behind him, Anthea took a shaky breath, her body still on edge from his proximity.

Seated on the bed’s edge, Anthea looked at the view outside her new window. The mountains beyond the court were breathtaking, their rocky peaks gleamed in the sunlight. Below, a vibrant valley unfolded, a river meandering through the expanse like a silver ribbon.

With Elara’s gentle assistance, Anthea had been clothed in a warm green dress. The color reminded her of the mossy forests that had ran the banks of the river when she had been brought here.

In silence, she had accepted another cup of the herbal tea from Thalion, its bitter taste no longer as unpleasant. As he had secured her wrist with a splint, Thalion had instructed her to rest, to not overexert herself.