Looking down at his gloved hands, he nodded. “She’s taken a turn for the worse.”
My eyes widened. “Then why are we going to the island, Galen? We should be heading back to Palace Grimaldi. You need to be with her.”
“Trust me, I want to. But they said she insisted I stick to the tour. We only have one territory left, and the respect of the regents is barely hanging by a thread as it is.” He twisted his hands in his lap, his actions betraying the surety in his tone. “She isn’t as sick as my father was. There’s still time.”
“Fates, Galen…” I huffed out a breath. “Are you sure?”
He met my stare, red veins hovering around tired hazel eyes. “No. But I’ve always balked from the hard decisions. It was time I finally made one, even if it ends up being the wrong choice.”
I nodded. “I’m sorry. I hope she’ll be alright.”
“Thank you. I’d like for you to meet her before this is all over with,” he said. “She’s always been intrigued by Veridians and your magic. And here I am, having been savedtwiceby one of you. First you with Tovar Printh, and now Rose...” He trailed off, the edges of his eyes crinkling as his forehead creased in thought.
“What’s wrong?”
He shook his head. “Nothing, it’s just…it must have been a figment of my imagination, but when I go back to last night, I keep thinking that—that Rosetouchedme. My skin. But that can’t be possible, because she’s still alive.”
I hesitated, running my finger along my lip before I said, “She did, Galen.”
His neck snapped up. “What? But—buthow?”
“I don’t know for sure. The only explanation I can think of is that Veridians are immune to your curse—not only the objects you curse, but youractualtouch too. The magic in the curse that the Fates gave you must be similar to the magic we have, so it doesn’t affect us. It seems to do the opposite, actually. Itgivesus our magic back. It’s how Rose was able to use her Alchemy to heal you in a way your healers here wouldn’t be able to.”
He swallowed hard as he took in my words. “So, you think I—you think I could…I cantouchyou? Because you’re Veridian?”
I nodded once, the air in the room suddenly heavy. I could feel his desire, his breaths coming faster as the reality of physical contact hit him.
“Clarissa…” He pulled at his bottom lip with his teeth. “Can I touch you?” he whispered. “Please?”
I held my breath and scanned his features, his wrinkled forehead, his pale cheeks, his dilated pupils. I didn’t fear his curse—I knew in my bones that I was right, that I couldn’t be hurt by him. It was a wonder I hadn’t figured it out before now. But what Ididfear was something that had been lurking at the edges of this king since the day we met.
Desperation.
I was still angry with him. But part of me felt sorry for him. He was hurting, and after months of never having the most basic of human contact, I could give him that. One touch.
I cleared my throat. “Alright.”
I moved back to the bed. Slowly, he tugged off the glove of his right hand, finger by finger. Raising a trembling arm, he halted before his skin touched mine, a question in his eyes. I gave a smallnod. His lips parted as the tip of his finger grazed a loose strand of my hair, hovering there for a moment before brushing it behind my ear. Clammy fingers skimmed my ear and down to my cheek.
That same bolt of warm magic I felt when I touched the blight liquefied in my veins the second his skin met mine. It was fainter this time, barely a whisper, but still…it was there. My magic.
“Did you feel that?” he whispered. I nodded tightly. We both sat in silence, the clock on the wall ticking to the sound of our hearts.
Waiting for his curse. For the rot to take hold.
But nothing happened.
His eyes widened. “It’s real. I can touch you.”
His grip became firmer, more confident, his thumb running along my cheek to my jaw, then his other hand cupped the side of my neck. I fought the urge to lean away from him, from the unfamiliar, uncomfortable touch of his hand.
A different man appeared in my mind. The way Thorne’s rough skin felt holding me, his soft lips punishing against mine.
I clenched my jaw when Galen scooted closer. “This—this is amazing. It’s been eight months since I couldtouchsomeone, Clarissa. You have no idea what this means to me.” His breath hit my face as he leaned in, awe in his voice and wonder in his eyes. His hold on my neck tightened, and a spike of uncertainty slithered down my spine. My eyes flitted to the closed door across from us.
His thumb continued to trail the side of my neck and to my collarbone, running back and forth across my skin. My limbs locked.
Before I could blink, he moved forward and pressed his lips to mine.
