Page 24

“I brought my knife,” I announced. “Just as you asked.”

He looked up and gave me my favorite half-smile. “Good girl.”

My body clenched around itself. I swallowed and redirected the tension elsewhere. To my anger. Mostly unwarranted, but useful .

“I’m assuming we are staying put today so you can spend all morning and afternoon running me ragged?”

“Morning?” he chuckled. “The morning is gone. You slept it away.”

“All afternoon, then.”

He covered the space between us with four long, steady strides and looked down at me.

“What?” I snapped, straightening my shoulders.

“I slay an angry stag for you, and this is the attitude I get?” His lips twitched.

The bastard was egging me on.

“I didn’t ask you to slay anything, and you did it for all of us.”

He tsked. “Did I?”

My nostrils flared. Caz’s words echoed in my mind. Territory . Was that what I was to him?

“Why do you have something against Caz?” I fumed.

He raised an eyebrow, waiting.

“He’s my friend, and you don’t like it.”

“Caz is a flirtatious ass who wants to get under my skin.”

“He’s married with a baby on the way.”

Gavin laughed humorlessly. “It’s a shame you’re naive enough to believe that would stop most men.”

“You’re the one with the problem, not Caz.” I scowled. “Besides, even if he wasn’t taken, he’s quite a bit older than me.”

That muscle in his strong jaw twitched—the telltale sign of his rage—and I knew I’d hit the spot. “I’m older than Caz.”

“Your point?” I snapped.

“Feisty today.” A sneer, instead of a smirk, darkened his features. “Did you wake up on the wrong side of your mat this morning, Your Highness? ”

“No!” I snapped, throwing one punch toward his annoyingly rugged, handsome head, which he effortlessly dodged. “You just piss me off!” I swung again, but he caught my whole fist in his palm.

“Good,” he purred, the sound silky and dangerous. “Use it.”

My back hit the stone, hard enough to hurt but not damage, before my brain registered that he’d flipped me upside down. He was so fast, gripping my hand one moment and tossing me to the ground the next.

Asshole.

I lay still, temporarily paralyzed with my back against the cold earth.

When his hand fastened around my arm, reflexes took over.

Because since the moment he’d taught me, I had memorized every movement—envisioned it in my mind over and over again while we walked, while I ate, while I lay awake—so that if or when this happened, I would be ready.

With the new strength in my core, I leapt up, landed cleanly on my feet, and used my momentum to jump, throw my forearm around his neck, and tuck my legs inside his. I squeezed to disorient him—just like he’d taught me—and forced him to the ground.

And then I went one step farther. In one swift movement, I spun to his front, straddled him, pressed the tip of the knife into the top of his shoulder, and let go of the handle to let it drop to the ground, showing I’d won.

“Shit,” Gavin hissed through his teeth, then laughed, carefully shifting me off him. “Tell me how you really feel, Your Highness.”

Disoriented, I looked down at the knife and saw it was gone from my hand as I’d intended.

Gone… because it was stuck in his body. I hadn’t dropped the knife. I’d never heard the clang of metal on rock.

I’d stabbed him.

I gasped, the sight of blood on his neck and shirt ripping the air right out of me.

I had meant to secure it against his shoulder and pull away.

I hadn’t planned on stabbing it into his flesh.

His shirt was coated in dark crimson, wet on his skin beneath the tear of the cloth and under the place his fingers touched.

I crawled to him, reached for him, threw myself onto him—

“No!” My hands on his hard chest were small and helpless. “I didn’t—I didn’t mean to!”

“A good hit.” He used his good arm to raise himself off the ground. “I think that’s all I need to see for today, as far as training goes. For self-preservation, if anything,” he chuckled.

“I don’t know how I—” I panicked, the breath in my chest tight. “Oh gods, I could have killed—”

“This won’t kill me, Ella.” He gave me an amused, reassuring smile. “Though I won’t lie, seeing you so torn up about the thought of me dying is not good for my ego.”

“How did I—what did I—”

“Unconscious desire to end me, I imagine.” He winced as he shifted his left shoulder forward.

“No!” I insisted. “No, I would never—”

“Ella.” He grabbed my hand with his uninjured arm and squeezed. Comforting me— he was comforting me right after I had stabbed him . “You hit muscle. That’s all. If you wanted to kill me, you would have.”

“What do I do?” I pleaded, touching his face as gently as humanly possible. I had to make sure his skin didn’t grow cold or flushed or pale. Tears welled in my eyes. His gaze darted to my fingers so close to his mouth. “How can I help?”

“Well, for one.” His eyes scaled the length of my body, starting at my neck. A coy grin spread across his face. “As much as I already regret saying this, you’ll need to let me stand up.”

“Oh.” I looked down. In my worry, I’d straddled his left leg and my hand that wasn’t touching his face was pressed firmly against the center of his abdomen, essentially pinning him to the ground. My heart raced. “I’m sorry.”

I thought I heard him mumble “I’m not,” but it was too quiet to be sure.

His rumbling grunt, the squelching of bloody flesh as he pulled the knife out—it was all too much, but I made myself watch. Made myself suffer at the sight. It was only fair since I’d done it to him.

“Directly above the artery, but you missed.” His fingers brushed over the incision.

Blood was trickling out, but not fast enough to do any lasting damage.

He ripped the forearm of his shirt and used the back of his sleeve as a rag to wipe the blood from his skin.

To be so nonchalantly amused by a knife in his shoulder was disturbing.

Impressive, but most definitely and much more importantly, disturbing.

“Why are you acting like this happens all the time?” I demanded.

With his clean hand, he gently took my chin between his thumb and index finger and smiled. He lifted an eyebrow at me, like it was obvious. “This is hardly my first stab wound, Ella.”

“I don’t like that thought.”

He shrugged, wincing at the movement. “Then don’t think about it.”

“That sounds like a very male thing to say,” I mumbled, annoyed.

He chuckled. “I’m proud of you.”

“You’re proud of me?”

“Yes. It looked easy for you to put a knife to me, then through my flesh. You didn’t have to think about it. That instinct is what you need to survive.”

“I don’t even remember pushing it into your shoulder.

It was instinct, and I don’t want to be someone who just kills without thinking.

A monster.” I felt his index finger brush my chin.

“Not that you… not that you’re a monster, I…

” His eyes were soft, his fingers curled around my jaw.

He smirked, and I leaned into his touch.

“You’re proud of me for stab bing you a few inches above your heart, as if killing should come easy to me. ”

“Yes, Ella, I am proud. You’re improving.” He cradled my face in his non-bloody hand. “And if killing came easy to you, you would have just stabbed me lower.” He dropped his fingers to his side. “You must only hate me a little.”

“I don’t think I could ever hate you.” But I’d acted like it. I’d marched right over to him, ready to fight, and I had. My shoulders slumped. “I just… I was frustrated. You frustrate me.”

“Likewise.”

But he was grinning as he approached a small, trickling stream of the clearest water I’d ever seen.

The black-corded necklace with two rings had been bloodied.

I watched as he removed it from his neck and knelt to rinse the silver rings.

They rested in his scarred fingers, a beautiful and delicate contrast to his roughness.

“Why do you carry those rings around your neck?” The larger, tarnished silver ring looked like it belonged to a man.

Now a bit closer, I could see that the second, smaller, delicate band—likely a woman’s—had flowers and vines intertwined in the metal.

Beautiful, precious work. “You usually tuck them in like you’re hiding them. Are they both yours?”

When he turned to face me, his lips were drawn taut, skin paling. “The larger one is mine.”

“And the smaller one?” I asked. “A woman’s?”

My gut churned, silently begging for an answer different from the one I dreaded. I had no right, but I threw out a desperate prayer to the gods. Let it belong to a sister, a mother, or no one at all.

Finally, he exhaled sharply, ran his wet fingers through his hair, and admitted, “It belongs…” He flinched. “It belonged to my wife.”

Wife .

It echoed inside of me like a hollow wail in a dark, empty room with no windows, no doors. An unfamiliar, anxious chill slithered through my chest, threatening to wrap around my neck and choke me.

I hadn’t imagined Gavin with a wife. He didn’t seem the type.

But he was old enough that he’d lived many adult years before coming to know me.

Years filled with love, adventure, joy, and a plethora of other things I’d never experienced.

That terrible stomachache burrowed so deep it nagged at my spine.

Of course he had experience and history.

He was a grown man, and I was barely an adult.

“Where is your wife?” I asked quietly.

“Lost.”

And there it was—that glimpse of heartbreaking longing, that sadness that had consumed him the morning he found me crumpled on the ground, a victim of the wolf.

I looked away from him, uncomfortable, my heart settling under the weight of his silent plea.

His unwavering focus flayed me and my senses alive.

“Lost how?”

“It doesn’t—” He cleared his throat and placed the black rope and rings around his neck. “It doesn’t matter. What’s done is done.”

It was a failed effort to move. To shift. To act like I was unaffected. The envy took root like a poison. Could I really be so bothered at the thought of his heart belonging to another? Certainly, I had no right, especially when I was betrothed to marry Elias.

But that look in his eyes. It hurt him. It hurt me , as if he loved her so much, as if he’d lost so much that his pain had unfurled itself from a dark place in his heart and lashed out, striking me.

I feared such terrible pain. And I longed for it. To feel agony so deeply… surely, a love just as deep had to exist on the other side of it.

“What was she like?” My chest stung at the thought of her.

A stunning woman. Strong, tall, confident, and alluring.

I knew asking about her was a defense mechanism, my mind’s impulse to remind my reacting heart and body that this tension between us—tension I had likely misread was there in the first place—would not culminate the way I secretly hoped.

“She was perfect.” He ran his hand over his mouth and avoided my gaze as he spoke.

“Brought up in a prominent, wealthy family. Her father was a war general, and her mother was…” His jaw clenched, and he shook his head.

I glanced at him, brow furrowed, but he continued despite my confusion.

“My wife was greatly cherished. Protected but… stifled .” A grimace flickered across his face at the last word.

“I was far below her status. Frankly, it was a miracle she ever looked at me. Her family didn’t allow her to go out on her own, but she was rebellious that way.

Stubborn. One day, she snuck out and showed up in my blacksmith’s shop.

” A warm smile finally graced his rugged features.

“The day I saw her was the luckiest day of my life. She was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”

When he turned to me, his gaze softened. It made me feel oddly warm, but conflicted. I swallowed a lump in my throat.

“She told me she needed a weapon and she needed me to teach her how to use it,” Gavin continued. “I looked like a fool, I’m sure. Struck stupid with shock, utterly speechless, dirt on my face, arms, clothes covered in soot.” He laughed down at his hands. “I would have done anything she asked.”

“What happened to her?”

“She was taken from me,” he uttered slowly, lost to his thoughts for a brief moment before shaking them off. “But as I said, what’s done is done.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “The woman you love must be pretty remarkable.”

He looked at me, the light in his hickory eyes devoured by sadness.

Perhaps he regretted sharing his secret with a na?ve young woman.

Maybe he’d told me, then realized I would never understand.

He reached for me regardless, and with his thumb beneath my chin, he guided my attention back to him, features now twisted with remorse.

“Forget about it,” he muttered. “Alright?”

I forced a smile, knowing forgetting this was impossible.

Just like I couldn’t forget Caz’s wife. Or how Finn and Gemma still weren’t together because of the obstacles our people faced.

I could never forget what these people were sacrificing.

For me. For a promise made by an ancient queen that I was expected to keep. I could never let myself forget.

He cleared his throat and shook his head, turning toward camp. As if he’d come close to losing himself in memories of her, and my presence brought him back.

I hated that it made him sad to be back here with me.

“Gavin?” I asked.

I heard the crunch of rock beneath his feet as he paused and returned to me. I held back a sob at the terrible, heartbreaking hope I saw in his eyes.

“I’m so sorry she was taken from you.”

His shoulders slumped. His eyes—brimming red with emotion—darkened and pierced me, and his pain became my pain.

“I’m sorry too,” he uttered, his voice low and hoarse.

It was a simple response, one I would have expected from anyone who lost the one they loved. But like most things he said, it sounded… different.

It gutted me.

That night, I cried silent, stupid, childish tears into my quilt while lying beneath gray rock I would be happy to never see again.