Teddy met her eyes, expecting teasing, but she looked sincere. Two hunters stumbled by the opening to their curtained-off room. They leered at Stella, but she just rolled her eyes and waved her hand for them to move along.
She waited until they were out of earshot to face Teddy again. “Are you sure this is a good idea for you? There’s a reason that my father and yours have picked their spots to compete in even the more casual tournaments over the years. They both know they would lose respect if they lost. There’s wisdom in choosing battles you know you can win. You should follow their example.”
As if Teddy hadn’t already considered that. As if he didn’t consider it in every moment ever. As if he could ever be free of it. The panic twisted his stomach, and a cold sweat rose on his back.
“I’m not saying it to be cruel. Those men competing—I’ve had a good look at them and at least some of them are vindictive,” Stella continued.
“How would you know?” Teddy asked.
Stella huffed a sigh. “You think I’m not trained? That I haven’t been doing combat drills since I was old enough to learn footwork? My parents might have preferred otherwise, but they were smart enough to know I’d always have a target on my back. Once you do the tournament binding, the only way out is through—by maiming, death, or victory. While I have confidence you’ll survive the tournament, your ego might not.”
Every word stoked Teddy’s anxiety higher until he felt like he couldn’t draw a deep breath.
Stella pressed a hand to her chest. “Hey, are you well?”
Teddy stared at her with wide eyes. There was no air in the tent. He couldn’t breathe. Panic spread ice through his veins, his fingers tingling as his vision narrowed to her bright green eyes and a pinched crease in her brow.
She looked worried, but that couldn’t be right. There was clearlynot enough oxygen getting to his brain, and it was making him delusional.
“Teddy?” She stepped closer.
“I’m fine—” The words were hoarse.
A cold sweat rose on his back, his hands curled in, and his chest grew even tighter.
“Do you need a healer?” Stella asked, pressing a hand to his forehead, her other hand pressed to her heart. “What is this? Did you drink something? Poison?”
“Can’t breathe.” He leaned back against the table, trying desperately to master himself.
If Teddy failed, all of his life would have amounted to nothing. The kingdoms could descend into chaos. His family would be hurt. His people would be vulnerable. He had to be impeccable. Anything less than perfection in such a public forum would spell ruin.
He slid down the table leg and landed on his ass with his legs out in front of him. His vision darkened so much that he barely saw or felt Stella straddle his lap. She snatched his hand and placed it over her heart. He tried to pull back. Someone could see. It was inappropriate. But she held him fast.
Her other hand came to his face, her palm cool against his burning cheek.
“Breathe with me. It’s going to be all right,” she said softly.
She was trying to help him. He focused on the slower rise and fall of her chest, but the panic had him in its iron fist and he could not shake it. His heart beat so loud he could barely hear her.
“Gods, you’re pale. Come here.” She wrapped her arms around him so they were chest to chest. Her chest expanded against his and he tried to focus on following her slower, calmer pattern.
“Let me tell you a story,” she murmured, her voice sounding just a little sharper, though still far away.
He felt a sudden rush of warmth in his chest. Their bond. She was sending something through their bond, or maybe it was just responding to her being so close. But the distinct feeling of calm spread through his body.
“Once upon a time, there was a village where it rained stars that granted wishes for one night every year,” she said, her lips brushing the shell of his ear. “The villagers waited all year, collecting empty jars so they’d be ready.”
Teddy’s vision brightened, and his heart settled into a steadier rhythm. He wrapped his arm around her waist and held on tight as she continued to tell the story, her animated voice becoming clearer as he calmed.
It was pleasant, being held and told a story. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard a fairy tale. When he was young, his father used to lie on the castle roof with him and point out fake constellations and make up stories about them, but that was so long ago. Teddy scarcely remembered any of the details.
Stella combed her fingers through his hair. He wanted to complain that she was mussing it, but it was too soothing. She smelled so good—like wildflowers after a rainstorm.
Teddy had been foolish to not even consider her competition. She no doubt had goddess-blessed bow skills like her mother, but Stella hadn’t really been raised to be a warrior. She looked fit. Her dress showed off strong arms, the slit up the side offered a glimpse of a well-toned leg, and the dip in the neckline gave a glimpse of her cleavage. She was fit, but this type of fight required more than practice-ring skill.
Stella shifted in his lap. They were in a terribly compromising position. The memory of their bonding felt sharper, more vivid in the tense silence. He wanted to bend down and kiss the freckle on her collarbone.
The impulse ground against all the reasonable thoughts in his brain. He forced himself to meet her gaze. Her eyes dropped to his mouth. Heat rushed through his chest. Did she want to kiss him?
