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"Don’t worry, dear. You won’t die today. I —" Her voice broke as darkness closed in on me. "We have far too much left to do."
Chapter 1
Kaiya
6 MONTHS LATER
The last rays of sunlight streamed in through the front windows of the rehabilitation room as I deepened my stretch, trying to ignore the twinge of pain in my stiff hip and side.
The physical therapist told me to go home hours ago. I could practically hear her muttering 'healing requires rest' in that calm voice of hers.
Ha! I'd already had six damn months of rest. I needed to work.
Unfortunately, the only thing standing between me and my mission was her signature on my clean bill of health.
Letting out a slow breath, I pushed deeper into the stretch, relishing the ache.
This wasn't my first injury, and she wasn't my first stubborn doctor. I'd find a way to convince her.
"Ewwww."
The disgusted screech made me jump, and I looked over my shoulder. Three silhouettes stood outside the frosted windows of the sliding door.
Gods. I hated tours.
The person in back held a hand to their face. "This place smells like sick people! I can't have that stench soaking into my skin."
Shaking my head, I turned my attention back to my stretches.
Whoever had told the wealthy aristocrats that visiting recovering agents was some sort of "charity" deserved to be flogged. They always insulted far more people than they helped.
Hopefully they moved on quickly.
"Especially before the ball," a lower voice interjected. "Why are we even here, Jaiel?"
My stomach flipped.
Did he just say Jaiel? Not that ass —
The door slid open with a bang, and I winced, forcing myself not to react further as I finished my stretch. I'd need all the patience I could muster to deal with the asshole Fae prince.
"Wow, she would be pretty if not for all of those hideous scars," the lower voice from before whispered loudly. "I wonder if they extend to her —"
"Shut up, Deyrin," Jaiel snapped. "No one gives a fuck what you wonder."
I exhaled on an eight count, then stood to face them, hands on my hips.
"What can I do for you, Prince Kierstall?"
The Fae Prince of Shadows leaned casually against the door frame, dark hair painstakingly braided to show off his pierced pointed ears.
He’d chosen to wear a uniform, at least, instead of his normal sheer pants and vest. It did nothing to disguise the lean muscles cording his shoulders, arms, and chest, though.
His bored blue gaze met mine, brow lifting as he took in my white chemise and breeches.
I forced my hands to stay on my hips.
There was nothing wrong with me or these clothes. They were completely acceptable garb for patients doing rehabilitation. If he had a problem with it, he should have stayed away.
