The murky brew swirled in the cup as though it were a living being. Calia drew back from it. “That looks…questionable.”
“It will bring ye no harm. Mynlis can be trusted.” The loyal selkie outcast had saved his life with her healing remedies on more than one occasion. “Shall I taste it first? Would that help ye trust it?”
She pushed it toward him. “Go for it.”
Bracing himself for the worst, he hazarded a sip and forced himself not to react. “If ye dinna breathe with it on yer tongue, it goes down easier.” While she gave the concoction another dubious look, he fetched her a cup of water to wash away the aftertaste. “Here, lass. To chase it with.”
After a deep breath, she downed the herbal, then hurried to follow it with the cup of water. A hard shudder overtook her, and she clapped a hand over her mouth.
He ran to fetch the clean chamber pot and held it in front of her. “Here, lass, if it comes back out, ye can try again later.”
With her mouth still covered, she forced a hard swallow several times, then sagged back, deeper into the chair with her head once more pillowed on the armrest. “I think we’re good. For now.”
He set the pot on the floor beside the chair just in case. “Will ye have a piping hot cup of tea now? The maids brought a fresh crock of honey up with the tray. That might help rid ye of that taste too.”
“Maybe with just a little honey.” She started to rise. “But I can get it.”
He stopped her. “Nay, lass. Allow me. Please.” The guilt he bore for her wretched state was killing him. If there was anything he could do to ease her suffering, he would gladly do it. He poured her a cup, sweetened it a bit, and brought it to her along with one of Cook’s biscuits. “Here ye are. The biscuit might help settle ye as well since ye’ve had nothing to break yer fast.”
She pushed herself upright, keeping her feet tucked up under her. “Thank you. I guess the stress is bringing me back-to-back migraines.”
“Crossing the Veil often causes pain.” Shifters also suffered in such a manner whenever their inner beings had difficulty taking form, but it was best he not share that with her just yet, since she didn’t seem to realize her inner voice was the pale alpha. At least, if Dubh was correct about the identity of the voice he’d overheard. “Ye appear to be highly sensitive to the many threads of the tapestry.”
She eyed him over the rim of her cup as she sipped. With one eye squinted shut, she dipped the biscuit into the tea, then nibbled on it, flinching as though biting the baked morsel caused her pain. “You mentioned a curse?”
With a heavy sigh, he leaned back in his chair. “Aye. The curse I have borne since the death of my wife.” He scrubbed his face with both hands, then blew out a heavy sigh. “It happened three hundred years ago?—”
“Wait.” Calia nearly spilled her tea as she jerked to sit up straighter. “What?”
Feckin’ hell. Might as well get that revelation out of the way as well. He was already as good as damned in her eyes. He could see it as plain as day. “I am seven hundred years old.”
“You are seven hundred years old,” she repeated. “That is not possible.”
“It is verra possible here, lass. Shifters live thousands of years. Even though a bit of silver streaks my hair, I am not considered old by any means.” Her pallor concerned him. “Would ye be more comfortable in the bed?”
“I don’t think I’ll ever be comfortable again.” She placed her tea and what remained of her biscuit on the small table beside the chair, then curled back into the tight little ball of earlier.
He fetched a blanket and tucked it around her. “I am so sorry.”
“So you keep saying.”
His heart fell. “I know, lass, but I truly mean it.”
“Continue your story.” Her icy aloofness from when they first met had returned in full force. She’d surrounded herself with walls thicker than Wraith Tower’s fortifications.
There was naught to be done but get on with it. He decided not to mention that once they reunited their souls, her lifespan would match his.
“It was an arranged marriage,” he said, “to strengthen the clan of my wife’s origin and provide an heir to my throne.” He leaned forward, propping his forearms on his knees and rubbing his hands together. “Aluwyn of Clan Silverwood was a good woman. Kind and just. An appropriate match to help me rule the Realm with the honesty and fairness the people deserved.”
“But you didn’t love her.”
“No, and neither did she love me. What we shared was an amiable companionship born of circumstances.” He resettled himself in the chair, unable to sit still. “It pleased all the clans when she conceived so quickly.”
Calia gathered the blanket tighter around her. “But it didn’t please you?”
He paused before answering, choosing his words with care. “At the time, I wished to wait to ensure the child was mine.”
“Had she been unfaithful to you?”
