‘Nanna dressed you,’ he said, before she spiralled into panic. ‘You were in bad shape.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I combed through your hair in the sled. And I cleaned your face up.’ His lips twisted, his pale eyes darkening. ‘There was so much blood. I couldn’t stand to leave you like that.’
Greta frowned, trying to piece together the last few days, but she couldn’t recall anything beyond the cold, howling wind, and her strong-armed protector holding her close. Did that mean …?
‘I rode back in your sled?’
‘Yes.’
Holy snow.
‘Just the two of us?’
He nodded. ‘Do you remember what happened on the mountain?’
She flinched at the memory. ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘I heard you call my name. You came for me.’ Again, he nodded. ‘You saved my life.’
He gave a half-smile. ‘Your beloved wolves helped.’
Her heart swelled. ‘You meanyourwolves,’ she said, softly.
‘Our wolves,’ he said, softer still.
Greta clutched at the swirling heat in her belly. If he didn’t stop talking to her like this, low and gentle as a lover, she was going to burst into flames.
‘And now I’m in your bed,’ she said, trying to puzzle out the rest.
‘I’m afraid Luna insisted.’ He gestured towards the wolf. ‘She said it was the best place to put you.’
Greta chewed on her smile. ‘Did she indeed?’
He dipped his chin. ‘She’sverybossy.’
‘Then you two must get along famously,’ said Greta, scratching behind the wolf’s ears, before pressing a kiss to her snout. ‘You really are a beauty.’
She could feel the king’s eyes on her. ‘She didn’t trust anyone else to watch over you,’ he said, quietly.
The tenderness in his words sent a bolt of longing through her. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him. So, she poured all her devotion and relief into his wolf, furiously blinking her tears away. ‘Thank you for watching over me,’ she said, in a cracked whisper. ‘Thank you for saving my life.’
He rounded the bed, his presence enveloping her like a warm breeze as he perched at her side. ‘I could no more cede my wrangler to Queen Regna than I could my kingdom.’
She sniffled as she turned towards him, resisting the urge to skim her fingers across the bruises on his face. ‘The battle, Alarik …’ She was almost too afraid to ask. ‘Did we win?’
‘Well, I’m not dead, so that should be a clue.’ His face remained grave. ‘But our losses … there were many. Hundreds.’ He bit back a curse. ‘And twice as many injured. It was a bloodbath.’
One they had barely survived.
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. It ached in her, the swell of such a loss. She thought of all those families mired in grief. And hundreds more soldiers now battling towards recovery. Then there were the stricken beasts to mourn. More pain. More loss. ‘They were so brave, your soldiers. Your beasts. The way they fought. How they rallied, even when they had barely any strength left. I’ve never seen anything like it.’
He nodded, distantly, the ghost of a smile flitting across his face. ‘Gevran, to the bone.’
There was a hint of pride in his voice, but the sadness there was greater, deeper.
She dropped her gaze to his ruined hands. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said again.
‘It could have been worse.’ He was looking at her now. She could feel his quiet conviction like a ripple of heat between them. ‘So much worse.’
‘Is it over?’ she dared to ask.
‘Regna and her forces have retreated. For now.’ His voice hardened. ‘It won’t be over until she meets the point of my sword.’ At her grimace, he leaned in, his voice low. ‘I’d be a lot morecreativewith the wording of that threat, but I know violent talk of vengeful bloody murder makes you uncomfortable.’
