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Even after the Tower of Myda, the healing hadn’t taken this long. There’d been no blood. But now… so much of it. I reassured myself it wasn’t the kind of blood loss that could mean death, even to our kind.

But I realized… our Joining was the first time I’d seen her bleed.

In all of our sparring sessions, our forays into Baylaur, even the wicked grip of the witch’s talons… she’d never once shed a drop of blood. Merlin had nearly lost her composure because of it at the Offering all those months ago.

But at the Joining, the conniving priestess had dug her blade into Veyka’s hand and drawn the blood that would join us together without any trouble at all. And now, all these cuts and scrapes bled freely, crusting over to a dark scarlet, then bleeding fresh when the healers reopened them to clean and mend.

What did it mean?

Did it have to do with the Void Prophecy?

Every part of me shuddered—even the beast.

If Parys was right, what would that mean for our court? Or the darkness lurking beyond in the human realm, that Veyka had been so quick to dismiss?

She had power.

I’d seen it, felt it, just like everyone else in that throne room.

But I couldn’t pretend to understand it.

Did Veyka?

Had she known all along?

Had she lied?

No.

Not after the Tower of Myda. I couldn’t believe… we’d agreed that there would be no lies between us. No promises, but also no lies. If she’d known, she would have told me.

I wished for the weight of certainty in my chest to match the words I whispered in my head.

None came.

One healer stepped back; the fire wielder. As they moved to the foot of the bed and began to tidy up their implements, I glimpsed Veyka’s legs. Her gorgeous, muscular calves and thighs, now wrapped in a cage of thin wood strips, carefully placed to brace and hold in place.

“How long will she be like this?” I choked out. I hadn’t even seen the upper half of her body.

“A day at most,” the wind wielder said, turning to face me. She looked me up and down with a boldness I’d rarely seen from the elementals in my new court.

The doubt must have been showing in my eyes.

“Bones are complicated to set, but they heal quickly. The force of the impact did most of the damage, rather than…” she paused, glancing around the room, to where Veyka had crashed onto the goldstone tiles. “Wherever she came from, her bones were not broken there.”

“The nature of the Queen’s return does not go beyond this room.” I was hardly thinking, but some latent battlefield commander’s instinct drove my words. The courtiers would be speculating enough. The fewer whispers we had to contend with, the better. “She has returned and is resting. That is all that will be said.”

The wind-wielder inclined her head, then cut a look to the others. Their chins bowed in unison.

I watched in silence as the last of them stepped away to fully reveal my mate.

Veyka was naked.

The healers had draped a few pieces of pale cloth over her navel and breasts. A modesty she wouldn’t have cared about, though I didn’t say anything or make a move to remove them. I was too transfixed by the wreckage.

Everything was aligned once more, thank the Ancestors. Her legs and arms didn’t stick out at unnatural angles, the blood had been washed away to nothing but pink cuts, already rapidly healing. But her arms and legs were wrapped in splints in careful straight lines. They’d washed her face, but her hair was still a tangled mess. Even her cheeks were marred with cuts, though her neck and head were mercifully unbandaged.

“When will she wake?”