Sven leveled his gaze on Lars. “She knew about Erik. That you had news about Erik.”
A sharp intake of breath. “How could she know that?”
“I have no idea,” Sven answered. “I wondered that myself. But then everything went to hell and I didn’t have a chance to ask you.”
“Did Alitta touch you?”
“That’s a strange question.” He gave Lars a hard stare. “She kissed me. Why?”
His guard cursed and started to pace, his fists clenched at his sides. “That bitch.”
“What?”
“Martin tested that piece of bandage that he found on Bryn’s arm. It held some version of the toxins that were on that arrow. My guess is that Alitta put it on you somewhere and Bryn accidentally rubbed it off when she cradled you.”
Sven gave a small smile. “She saves me more and more.” He reached for his clothes. “So do we assume that Alitta is working with Magnus? Or had something to do with the assassination attempt?”
“We have to consider everything. But for now, the Council will be breathing down your neck about the ritual. You could lose your title if you do not mate.”
“Maybe it’s for the best,” Sven said after a beat. “I would not want to have a child with Alitta and marriage would have been impossible.”
Lars raised a brow. “And what do you suggest then?”
Sven hesitated. The image of dark eyes in fire returned. “Maybe the answer is already here.”
Lars stiffened. “Don’t even think about Bryn. She’s not of suitable lineage nor could she possibly produce the appropriate heir.”
“Maybe lineage isn’t everything,” Sven murmured even though he wasn’t sure he believed it himself. “Besides, we know there’s something different about her, even if she doesn’t know it herself.”
But Lars’s scowl wasn’t supportive. And they only had a couple days before the Visionary Council expected him to fulfill his obligations or be removed.
Sven’s throat tightened. He had fought, bled, and nearly died for his crown. To lose it now would strip away not just his future, but everything he’d sacrificed to protect.
Three days.
He closed his eyes as the clock ticked.
Chapter Thirteen
Bryn
Bryn sat on the edge of her bed and held her head in her hands. Embarrassment coursed through her. When had she become a bedside trollop? And what would the royal family think of her after she practically crawled into their leader’s bed?
She groaned and flopped backwards on the mattress. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep, and didn’t every romance movie cause people to naturally cuddle after they doze off?
Oh my God. I cuddled a king!
She rolled over and buried her face in a pillow. She didn’t quite scream but she didn’tnotscream either. For someone who had been so quick to hop on a plane because she finally had freedom, she had lost it in record time.
Despite her unexplainable physical attraction to Sven, her heart still waged a war between contempt at his takeover of her life and gratitude that he was protecting her.
And what was this sensation she got when she touched him? Not a feeling like hot or cold, but more like an electrical current.
She flopped back onto her back and flung her arms out to her sides. What had Martin said about her healing Sven? Her gut told her that the tingly feeling she experienced was somehow what he meant, but that did nothing to explain how or why she was able to do it. She covered her eyes and groaned. She understood nothing.
A knock on the door broke through her misery. Without a thought, she responded without moving. “Come in.”
No one said anything after the door opened. Certain it was Lars or the doctor, Bryn kept her eyes covered. “What do you want?”
