Julian burst into the room, and I exhaled in relief, knowing I had gotten us both back here alive. Julian was shirtless, and despite his more petite, slender build, he was still packed full of hidden, lean muscle. He had pulled back his blonde curly hair into a bun at the top of his head, and he was wearing the same pants he had worn at dinner.
“What’s wrong? Is she okay?” Julian asked frantically, rushing to Xavier’s side. His gaze dropped to my shoulder, his expression twisting into a grimace.
Following his line of sight, I looked down. White cloth wrapped my shoulder, and blood seeped through the bandages.
Xavier reluctantly released his grip on me, allowing Julian to take his place beside me on the bed.
“We managed to heal most of it—and your arm. You probably just tore the stitches open.” Julian’s eyes softened as he continued, “Your body isn't healing as quickly as I would like, but it will.” He hesitated, his hand hovering just above my shoulder. “Is it okay if I take a look?”
I nodded, offering him a small, grateful smile. “Yes.”
As Julian carefully reached for my bandages, my gaze flickered to Xavier. He had turned his back to us, standing stiff and silent.
“Afraid of seeing a little blood?” I mocked, narrowing my eyes on his back.
He stiffened from my comment and looked back over his shoulder at me. “I don’t enjoy seeingyourblood,” he gritted out, his voice low and tense before turning back to face the wall, the muscles in his jaw flexing again.
I huffed, more out of frustration than anything, as Julian glanced at me, shaking his head slightly in warning before focusing back on my shoulder. His fingers worked quickly but gently as he redressed my wound.
“Where is Jaxon? He’s injured,” I pressed, my chest tightening at the thought.
“Where he belongs,” Xavier snarled, his voice laced with bitterness. Before I could say another word, he stormed out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him.
“Where is he, Julian?” I snapped, and Julian met my gaze again, but his hesitation was clear.
“In the dungeons,” Julian said, sighing, his eyes saddening beneath his square lenses.
My heart skipped in my chest, and I tried to get out of the bed. “He doesn’t belong there,” I growled, trying to push past Julian.
“Please, stop moving, my lady—your wound!” Julian’s voice was tight with concern, but I ignored him. The second I stood, my vision spun, and I swayed on my feet, my body betraying me. Julian’s arms wrapped around my waist just in time, steadying me before I collapsed back onto the bed.
“I’m going to have to re-wrap that now,” he muttered, exasperation clear in his tone as he began working on my bandages again. “There’s nothing you can do right now, Princess. Please, lie back down. You need to heal. Once you're stronger, I’ll take you to him.” Julian looked at me with pleading eyes.
I glowered at him. “Why is he in the dungeons? Morgana is alive. I have proof!” I winced again at my movements and looked frantically around. “Where is it?! Where is the amulet?” I shouted, and Julian tried to quiet me. “Where is it?!” I cried again, panic squeezing my chest. My breath quickened, and my vision began to blur. My heart pounded in my ears. Icouldn’t have dropped it—no. I needed it. My mind spun with desperation. I needed to see it, to hold it.
“It’s safe, Zara. Please, you have to calm down, or you’re going to hurt yourself even more,” Julian shouted, his tone edged with urgency.
But the rising storm inside me drowned out his words. My heart raced faster, the edges of my vision darkening. I had to leave—I had to find it. I pushed myself up, the world spinning violently as I stood. My legs buckled, and strong arms caught me as Julian yelled something, his voice distant, almost muffled. The door slammed open, but I had already passed out.
*
Xavier stood over me again, his face expressionless as I took in his imposing figure above me. He no longer wore his black attire, but had on a simple white shirt and some sort of soft, baggy pants.
“Where’s the amulet?” I rasped, my throat dry—too dry. I felt weak, but the question burned in my mind. I moved to sit up, struggling with the effort, and Xavier immediately reached out. His hands were at my side as they guided me upright. His fingers brushed my arm, lingering a moment before adjusting a pillow behind me.
“I have it,” he said quietly, meeting my gaze briefly before fussing with the surrounding blankets. The scent of cedar and citrus filled my lungs, and my body seemed to relax a fraction, my stomach flipping with a strange awareness, and I cursed myself for enjoying his nearness.
He handed me a glass of water, his eyes never leaving my face, watching intently as I drained it in one go. The cool liquid eased my dry throat, but it wasn’t enough. Without a word, he refilled the glass and sat on the edge of the bed, his emerald gaze unreadable.
“I need it,” I said, my voice rough, almost pleading, despite my attempt to sound authoritative.
“It’s my mother’s,” Xavier replied flatly, as if that were a sufficient explanation. His tone suggested that the matter was settled.
“My magic, my soul—it’s inside it. Please, I need it to be safe.” My words were laced with desperation, my breath catching as I urged him to understand.
Xavier’s body tensed, and he went still. He didn’t show the surprise I had expected, but instead seemed to process the information with a slow, deliberate calm. “Gunnar assumed that might be the case when the charm malfunctioned,” he said after a moment, his fingers rubbing wearily at his eyes. “It explains why your magic has been so unpredictable. It makes sense now.”
“She gave me some sort of potion…she said it would fix me being able to control her magic…my magic.”
