I turned back to him, creasing my brow. “You shouldn’t have survived that,” I said plainly, though the words choked in my throat.
Returning to the ceramic bowl at the table beside Neirin’s chair, I wet and wrung out the rag again and wiped at the streaks on his face. The crackling fire cast a warm yellow light across him, sharpening his features. A part of me remained hollow, afraid. Sniffling back my emotion, I cast my eyes aside.
“It is my blood. It heals me,” Neirin said, though I knew that already. Concern hardened his expression. “Where is Calix?”
“Calix is fine. I’ve given him a tincture to make him sleep.” A knot formed in my throat. “Neirin, I thought—” Despite my efforts, the tears that threatened before broke past the barrier, and one slid down my cheek.
Neirin hushed me gently. He took the rag from my hand and returned it to the side table, hanging it over the ceramic bowl. Cupping my cheek in his palm, he sought my eyes. “I am alright now. Because of you.”
To the soft crackling of the fire, I took my time cleaning Neirin’s body, wiping him free of the reminders of the night. When I was through, he brought a clean cloth to my cheek, then to my hands. The tenderness of it released the last of my fortitude, and I released a trembling breath.
By the time we finished, the flame in the hearth was again burning low. I added another few logs and hugged my arms, cold in the light cotton gown I wore. My dress was ruined. It lay in a pile with Neirin’s clothes. Maerel had left a gown for me on the dresser alongside a pair of soft, worn pants for Neirin.
He stood with his back to me as he pulled the dark pants up and tied the band at his waist. When he turned, he tilted his head slightly, and the corners of his lips curved up, revealing his dimple.My heart leapt. How close had I come to never seeing his smile again, to losing what I’d only just found, what I was still learning the depth of?
“Do not overdo it,” I told him, and returned to his side to help him to the bed.
After cleaning his wound and before we’d dressed, I’d wrapped it. The blood loss seemed to be under control. Color had returned to his face, and though his eyes were still tired, he admittedly looked much better than he had only an hour ago.
With my aid, Neirin sat at the edge of the bed. He leaned back and lay with a sigh. Desperately, I wanted to join him, curl to his chest, take comfort in the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneathmy ear. Yet I hesitated. Was it presumptuous of me to assume I could stay with him? To share the bed with him? It seemed like such a foolish thing to worry over after all we’d shared. But in my state of mental exhaustion, I fumbled over the concept.
“Please stay.”
Blinking to clear my thoughts, I rubbed my eyes with my knuckles. “Are you sure?”
“I don’t want to be alone tonight.”
There was vulnerability in his words. My heart flipped, and with one last glance at the fire to assure myself it was going strong, I climbed onto the bed. Crawling forward like a child, I collapsed into the soft blankets with a grunt. Neirin huffed with his amusement. I let out a weary breath, and he drew me against his chest, pulling a quilt over us.
“Rest,” he said and kissed my forehead.
Curling into his warmth, I yawned. My head fit into the crook of his arm in a way that felt so incredibly natural. Right. Like we were made for each other.
Trailing my fingers over the lightly raised lines of the scars left by Astraea, I hummed. “How does no one know about the Queen? About her messengers— and what they are?”
“To my knowledge, only the children and I know. They will not speak of it because they rely on her, on the blood—my blood—she supplies them with.”
A lump formed in my throat, and I retraced one of the faint branching lines. “Is this truly the only way to aid the children? It … it makes me sick to think of what happened to you and what isstillhappening to them.”
There must be another way.
Neirin fell quiet. The steady rise and fall of his chest lulled me. “I cannot attest to her conscience, nor can I make claims as to what is right or wrong in this. It is complex and, in truth, itseems there is no good solution. Though I despise the woman, I believe in her mind she considers what she is doing to be right.”
“How did an Alidian become a Queen? How did she keep the secret so long?”
“Astraea comes from one of the most influential houses in the western lands. Her marriage to the King was arranged for political reasons. While I do not know all the details of her past, I am aware that great wealth can afford significant discretion. When she came to the capital, my mother accompanied her as a lady’s maid. No doubt her source of blood before I was born.”
Nuzzling into Neirin’s neck, I sighed.
“I must tell you something else,” Neirin said, a sound of hesitation in his voice. “I must tell you who my brother is, who my father was.” He swallowed, and I remained quiet, letting him speak. “My brother’s name is Harlan. And my father…” He released a breath. “My father was King Kaius.”
I sat up, all weariness gone, and gawked down at him. “You mean to say you are a prince? That is”—I shook my head—“not believable.”
The corners of his lips quirked before laughter spilled out. The sound was rich, came from deep in his chest, and danced in his eyes. The dimple on his cheek warmed my heart.
“I’m not a prince,” he said when his laughter ebbed. “As I told you before, I have no name. I’m a bastard. I have no right to the throne, and I don’t want it. It belongs to my brother.”
“You are being truthful?”
