Page 134 of A Court of Wings and Shadows

And just like that, I could breathe again.

The magic recoiled, not vanished, but tamed. My vision cleared. My fingers uncurled.

I wasn’t sure what had just happened.

But it felt as if he had died… I would have too.

I slipped my arms around him wordlessly, leaning into his warmth, still half on the floor. He wrapped his arms around me and lifted me with a strength that shouldn’t have been possible after the state I’d found him in.

We stood there, breathing each other in.

His skin was warm against mine, his body solid where mine still shook. It wasn’t until my eyes dropped that I noticed he’d pulled off the blood-soaked nightshirt. His torso was bare, freshly healed scars tracing across his ribs and abdomen. Fainttremors still rolled through his muscles, but he was standing—alive.

He wore only his pants, and the sight of his bare skin, so vulnerable, so real, lit something inside me that had nothing to do with fear.

But I shoved it down. Focused.

“Who attacked you?” I asked, finally finding my voice.

“I don’t know,” he said, eyes dark. “They wore a mask. But they had access to the castle. They waited until I was in a deep sleep. I think I was drugged.”

My heart hammered. “What did you eat or drink before bed?”

He glanced toward the side table. “Just my evening cider. From the kitchens. Like always.”

I moved quickly to the goblet, ornate and silver, with his initials engraved at the stem, and lifted it to my nose.

Nothing. No scent. No sourness. No tell.

The assassin had been smart.

I set it down slowly, the reality of it heavy in my palm. “Whoever did this knew you wouldn’t taste it. And they knew how long it would take to knock you out.”

Zander’s eyes met mine.

Someone had tried to kill the prince.

And they’d almost succeeded.

Zander began pulling the bloodied covers from his bed, his movements steady and methodical despite what he’d just endured. He opened a carved closet built into the stone wall and pulled out fresh linens, deep-blue and soft-cream, and began remaking the mattress like it was something he’d done a hundred times.

I tilted my head, watching as he smoothed the sheet with precision. “I’m impressed you know how to do that.”

He looked up at me, a hint of amusement in his tired eyes. “My mother made sure her sons weren’t reliant on servants. Shesaid if we couldn’t take care of ourselves, we had no business leading others.”

“That’s a rare trait in nobility,” I said, moving to the other side of the bed to help him secure the corners.

He gave a small, wistful smile as he reached for the bedspread. “Yes. She was… special.”

I paused, fingers curling into the soft fabric. “You never talk about her.”

His hands stilled for a second. “Because her death destroyed us. All of us. Even Theron.”

I didn’t interrupt.

“I understand loving your mother,” I said quietly.

Zander’s eyes stayed fixed on the fabric as he spread the cover over the mattress. “She was more than just our mother. She was the glue. The one who held the chaos of our station together. We had arguments, gods, did we fight, but she made us feel like a family. When she died, my father didn’t just grieve. He… disappeared. Functioned, sure. Sat the throne. Issued orders. But the man behind the crown was gone. And now…”