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CHAPTER FOURTEEN

J essamin’s legs trembled as she closed Ulric’s chamber door behind her.

She leaned against the cool stone wall, her breath coming in short, uneven gasps.

The abrupt dismissal stung, but beneath the hurt burned something far more potent—the memory of his kiss, fierce and hungry, claiming her with a desperation that matched her own.

He is not indifferent.

She hugged that knowledge to herself like a precious jewel.

She had felt his restraint shatter, seen the raw desire in his golden eyes before he pulled away.

She hadn’t imagined the connection between them.

No matter how much he’d retreated since their riding lesson, he’d finally revealed the well of deep, barely controlled passion beneath that controlled exterior.

Her fingers rose unconsciously to her lips, still swollen from his kiss, and the memory sent a fresh wave of heat through her body.

She pushed away from the wall and made her way through the inner passageway to her chambers.

She’d known the passageway was there, but she’d never dared use it until tonight.

She’d half- expected to find his door locked and had already decided she would go through the outer door instead.

But it hadn’t been locked. Was it an oversight, or had some part of him wanted her to come to him?

The question haunted her as she returned to her chambers.

Elspeth knocked but she sent her away. She needed solitude to process the storm of emotions raging within her.

She began to pace, too restless to sit. Her body hummed with the same energy she’d felt during the riding lesson.

Every nerve ending felt alive, sensitized.

The memory of his skin beneath her fingertips—hot, fevered, mapped with the silver lines of old battle scars—was branded on her mind. The immense power contained in those muscles, the heat that radiated from him, the wild masculine scent that was uniquely, intoxicatingly Ulric…

Her desire for him was no longer a gentle warmth but a burning fire.

She stopped before the window, staring out at the mountains silhouetted against the night sky. The vastness of Norhaven spread before her, wild and beautiful and dangerous—like its king. Like the male she now knew with absolute certainty that she loved.

The realization didn’t surprise her. Perhaps she had loved him from the first moment their eyes met and she’d known the fierce powerful orc was going to be her husband.

Or perhaps it had grown more slowly, nurtured by glimpses of the male behind the crown—his fierce protectiveness, his unwavering sense of duty, his hidden tenderness.

She rested her forehead against the cool glass of the window. She would not let his fears rule them any longer—and she would not let Lasseran’s plots tear them apart.

What if she could find the traitor herself? She would prove her loyalty to Ulric in a way he could not deny, and she would show him that she was strong enough to stand beside him, not as a delicate female to be protected, but as a true queen of Norhaven.

She moved to her writing desk and pulled out the ledgers she’d been reviewing.

There had to be clues, patterns she’d missed.

She would start her hunt for the traitor here, amongst the numbers and supply lists.

And why had Elspeth been so quick to help investigate?

Why had she encouraged her to write that note to the Captain of the Guard?

Or was she overreacting? She hadn’t known the other woman before coming to Norhaven, but she’d been part of the Almohadi court for many years. She had no reason to betray Jessamin.

Hours passed as she pored over the records, making notes, connecting disparate pieces of information. The candle burned low, but she barely noticed, driven by her new purpose.

Finally, exhaustion forced her to set the work aside.

She changed into her nightgown and slipped into bed, but sleep eluded her.

Her mind continued to race, replaying the kiss, planning her next steps in uncovering the traitor, imagining a future where they ruled Norhaven together, bound by love and trust.

She finally gave up on sleep and reached for a book of Norhaven poetry that he had given her weeks ago—a peace offering she hadn’t fully appreciated at the time. Perhaps reading would quiet her mind enough for sleep.

She had just turned a page when a sound froze her in place.

A muffled cry came from beyond the passageway that separated their chambers—a sound of such raw anguish that it made her heart constrict.

She lowered the book, listening intently.

The sound came again—a deep, guttural groan that seemed torn from the depths of a soul in torment.

She slipped out of bed immediately, her bare feet silent on the stone floor as she hurried back through the passage.

He was in pain. That was all that mattered.

The connecting door was still unlocked, and she pushed it open slowly, her heart pounding in her chest. The room was empty, lit only by the dying embers in the hearth. The sounds were coming from the bedchamber beyond.

She approached the inner door, her resolve momentarily wavering. What if he rejected her again? What if he saw her concern as an intrusion?

Another cry, this one so filled with despair that it banished all her doubts.

He was thrashing back and forth on his massive bed, his powerful body drenched in sweat, the muscles of his bare chest and shoulders rigid with tension.

She crossed the threshold without hesitation, closing the door softly behind her.

Whatever had broken him open this night, she would not leave him to face it alone.

She moved toward him, drawn by an instinct deeper than thought. This was her place. This was where she belonged. By his side, in his pain as well as his triumph. She put her hand gently on his shoulder.

“Ulric,” she said softly. “I’m here.”

His body jerked and then his eyes opened and the raw vulnerability in that golden gaze stole her breath.

He didn’t speak. He simply stared at her, his defenses completely stripped away. There was no king in this room, no ruler of Norhaven—only a male haunted by demons she could not see.