“In my quarters?”
“Where else would I be?”
I open my mouth to argue, but my stomach chooses that moment to growl loudly. Heat floods my face.
A slight smile tugs at his lips. “I’ll have some food brought up.”
“I can—”
“You can sit there and let yourself be taken care of for once,” he says firmly, already standing. He moves to the door and speaks quietly to someone in the hallway.
I’m too hungry and thirsty to argue. My throat feels like sand, and the gnawing in my stomach is impossible to ignore.
He returns with a water skin and hands it to me. I drink greedily, not caring how desperate I must look.
“The injuries on your shoulder,” he says, settling back into the chair. “They had poison in them.”
I freeze, the water skin between my lips. “Poison?”
“Yes. I removed it.”
“You—” I stare at him. “How?”
“I have some skill in that area.” His expression darkens. “It was the same kind as last time. From the arrow that struck me.”
The same poison. My mind races, trying to make sense of it. “I don’t know why someone would want to poison me.”
“Neither do I.” His eyes hold mine, intense and serious. “But you need to be careful, Daciana. Whatever’s happening, someone wants you dead. And they’re not being subtle about it.”
A chill runs down my spine.
“Don’t go out alone,” he continues. “Not until we figure out who’s behind this.”
“I’m the Queen’s guard. I can’t just—”
“You can hardly sit up without shaking.” His voice is sharp. “You’re not invincible, little wolf. And whoever attacked you knew exactly what they were doing.”
The nickname causes a flutter in my chest, but I push it aside. “This doesn’t make sense. Why would someone target me?”
“That’s what we need to find out.” He leans forward, elbows on his knees. “But until we do, you stay safe. That means no patrols alone. No investigating on your own. No taking unnecessary risks.”
I want to argue. Want to tell him he doesn’t get to give me orders. But the memory of lying in that forest, bleeding out, stops me.
Someone tried to kill me.
And they might try again.
Chapter Four
Kieran
I sit in the shadows of Daciana’s quarters, watching her sleep. The room is lit by a single candle, which casts flickering light across her pale face. She looks smaller somehow, curled on her side beneath the thin blanket, her breathing shallow and uneven.
She’s growing fragile. Day by day, I watch her fade, and it tears something vital inside me.
Her brow furrows suddenly, lips parting on a silent gasp. Her fingers curl into the sheets, knuckles white. I recognize the signs immediately. A nightmare taking hold, pulling her into whatever darkness haunts her sleep.
I lean forward, extending my hand toward her. Magic flows from my fingertips, gentle as moonlight, wrapping around her consciousness like a protective cocoon. It’s an ability few possess, this capacity to touch another’s dreams, to soothe the troubled waters of their mind. I learned it years ago, practiced it in secret, never imagining I’d use it like this.
