Page 7

TRISTAN

Regret spreads through me. I can’t believe I’d missed Amelia’s additional injuries, wherever they are on her body. Even as I take deep inhales now, I don’t detect blood or an infection. But perhaps she has a painful bruise beneath her clothing.

Whatever is causing her discomfort, I’m eager to fix the problem for her.

I’m eager to heal her.

Already, my palms are tingling with Summer Court magic, and when she gasps and draws back, I realize she’s glimpsed the golden light that’s gathering in my hands.

“Don’t be afraid. It’s healing light,” I explain. “But I must focus it directly on your injuries. Please tell me where you’re hurt.”

An uncertain look falls over her, and she wraps her arms around herself and hunches over a bit, as though trying to make herself appear small. I don’t like it. I don’t like seeing her cower.

Trust, I realize. She doesn’t trust me yet. She’s still afraid of me. Afraid I’m going to hurt her. Probably afraid I’m going to force myself upon her too. It’s what most of my soldiers do with the war prizes they claim from the human and orc settlements we conquer.

A pained scream sounds nearby, and it’s the worst possible timing.

Amelia’s eyes flare wide, and she makes herself even smaller.

I suppress a growl of frustration and curse the soldier who’s making the human female scream.

Then I quietly create a soundproof ward around my tent.

I’ll still be able to hear what’s going on outside, but Amelia won’t.

“Come with me and sit down.” I start guiding her toward the bed, then think better of it. I escort her to a plush sofa instead, and I help her take a seat.

“Please don’t hurt me,” she whispers. “Please don’t force me to…” Her voice trails off, but I know what she meant to say.

I kneel in front of her and take her tiny hands in my much larger ones. Her eyes brim with tears as she meets my gaze, and her bottom lip quivers.

“I will never hurt you, Amelia, nor will I force myself upon you. I promise.” I can’t help but wonder if someone hurt her. The man she was supposed to marry? I still can’t detect the scent of a male on her. If she went through with the marriage, it likely wasn’t consummated.

“Why?” She blinks and a lone tear cascades down her cheek. “Why have you taken me as your war prize? Why do you want a war prize you aren’t going to beat and fuck? I don’t understand. Is this a cruel trick?”

I release one of her hands and reach for her cheek, intending to wipe away the fallen tear, but she flinches right before I touch her.

I immediately lower my hand, and rage starts to simmer within me.

She clearly believed I was about to strike her.

Is it because she assumes all fae are cruel, or is it because someone once hurt her?

I want to inquire about her past, but she just asked me a question, and I owe her an answer.

But gods. I can’t tell her I suspect she might be my fated mate. I’ve already admitted that I’m drawn to her, but I can’t confess that I want to keep her close while trying to figure out whether she’s the female meant to be mine forever.

What if I’m wrong? Or what if she reacts badly?

“I swear this isn’t a cruel trick, sweet human,” I finally say.

“I truly don’t intend to hurt you. As for why I’ve taken you as a war prize…

well, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since I saw you in Sorsston.

Since I stared into your eyes in the banquet hall for the first time.

I swear something passed between us during that moment, and all these months, I’ve regretted not stealing away with you then.

I even considered returning to Sorsston to look for you.

When I saw you in Glenville, it seemed a bit like… fate .”

“Why didn’t you take me from the banquet hall? What stopped you?”

I clear my throat. “Prince Lucas spoke to you, and though he had no ill intent, you became frightened, and you started crying and begging him not to kill you. This scene drew the attention of all the fae in the banquet hall.”

“The bloodthirsty crowd.” Understanding starts to dawn in her eyes, and I know she’s trying to piece together the events of that night. Or early morning. Whatever the fucking time it was .

“Exactly,” I say. “The spectators expected Prince Lucas to hurt you, and I would imagine most wanted to watch him kill you. To satisfy their bloodlust, the prince glamoured you into silence and escorted you to his quarters. He made the crowd believe he violated you, though he didn’t harm you.”

“How can you be certain he didn’t harm me?” she asks. “I have only the vaguest recollections of that night.”

“Because I was there. I summoned an invisibility shield, and I followed you to his quarters, then I flashed inside the room and remained there all night, secretly guarding your safety just in case the prince changed his mind about not hurting you.”

She relaxes somewhat, no longer keeping her arms crossed so tightly over her chest. She straightens on the sofa and seems to have an easier time meeting my eyes. It brings me hope. Hope that she’s starting to trust me. Hope that she believes the story I’m telling her.

“I recognize you from the Sorsston castle, sir,” she says in a thoughtful tone, “and I remember you looking directly at me once, though when and why, I am uncertain. It’s all very hazy.”

“Perhaps I’m telling the story too quickly.” I offer her what I hope is a warm smile, and I’m careful to keep my mouth closed. I don’t want her glimpsing my sharp, pointed teeth just yet. Not that she doesn’t already know I have them. All fae do.

“Maybe you could start at the very beginning,” she suggests. “I would like to hear every little detail. If you don’t mind.”

“Of course. But before I start at the beginning, I would like to heal your injuries. I know you’re still in pain. I’ve witnessed you wince a few times since we entered this tent.”

A wary look fills her eyes, but she eventually capitulates with a brief nod. “Very well. It’s my arms. I believe I might have some thorns embedded in my flesh.”

I peer at her button-down shirt. A man’s shirt. “Are you wearing anything beneath this?” I give a gentle tug on the fabric.

“Yes, but only a chemise.” A pretty flush envelops her face. “Surely it wouldn’t be proper for you to see me like that.”

“We must remove the shirt if I’m to heal you, Amelia.” I infuse my voice with warmth. “Please. I promise I won’t turn into a ravenous, rutting beast when I glimpse you in a chemise. Besides, you can keep your pants on.”

She studies me for a moment, and I can see her mind working as she tries to assess my true intentions. I’m relieved when she finally relents and starts to work the buttons of her shirt open.

Just before she reaches the last button, she pauses and gives me a shrewd look. “You promise you’ll tell me everything that happened in the Sorsston castle? You’ll give me all my memories back?”

“I promise.”

“Very well.” She makes quick work of the final button and opens her shirt, revealing the tight, low-cut chemise she’s wearing beneath.

Gods, she’s beautiful. My cock stirs in my pants, but I quickly avert my eyes, determined not to openly gawk at her ample bosom.

I don’t want to do anything to shatter the trust we’ve started to build.

It’s difficult to keep my eyes averted, however, because the dark outlines of her nipples are visible through the snug, sheer fabric of the undergarment.

She slips her arms out of the shirt and sets it aside, and I immediately take notice of the fading bruises covering both arms, as well as the thorns that are stuck in her flesh.

No wonder I didn’t detect any obvious signs of injury.

The thorns are large and embedded very deep, likely stopping the flow of blood.

The numerous bruises are concerning, and I can’t help but wonder where she’d gotten so many of them. Did she take a tumble a few days ago?

Knowing how fragile humans are, I imagine she’s in a great deal of pain, and I waste no time in gathering golden, healing light in my palms. I hover my hands just above her arms, gliding up and down until the very last thorn ejects from her flesh and the wounds seal shut, and the final bruise fades.

“That’s… incredible .”

I won’t lie. The awe in her voice pleases me, and I find myself considering what other feats I might perform just to impress her. But the most important thing for now is that she’s finally healed and she’s no longer in pain.

I run my gaze over each of her arms again to be certain I didn’t miss a spot, and I’m gratified when I find her skin untarnished.

“Does that feel better, Amelia?”

She nods. “Yes, thank you.” She moves her hands over her arms as she inspects my handiwork. “Do all fae have healing powers?”

“Most highborn fae do, though we have designated healers who excel at mending the most grievous of injuries, such as dismemberment. But I’m perfectly capable of healing the type of injuries you had.

I’m sorry you got hurt in the forest. I take it you were running from the hurllan that bit you?

” I don’t mention the old bruises, not yet, though I plan to ask her about them later.

“Um, I got some of the injuries while running from that furry little beast, but the thorns got me when I was running from you. Right after you spotted me in Glenville.”

Guilt strikes me, and I wish I could go back in time and prevent her from getting hurt. “I’m sorry if I scared you in Glenville. I was so pleasantly surprised to see you that I fear I lost my senses. I believe I might’ve growled at you.”

“Oh, you definitely growled at me,” she says as she quickly puts her shirt back on, and I’m delighted when the hint of a smile tugs at her lips.

But her expression soon grows serious as she finishes doing up the buttons.

“I believe you owe me a story. You promised to reveal what happened in Sorsston with the bloodthirsty crowd and Prince Lucas and… you . All the details. Please.”

“All the details.” I rise to my feet. “Are you hungry? Thirsty? I’ll get us some refreshments and then I’ll tell you everything.”