Trembling turned to violent shudders. She pulled herself up and stumbled to the chest where her belongings were kept. Sheshoved aside silks and linens until her fingers closed on heavy, dense wool. Alexander’s cloak.
Dragging it out was an act of utter surrender. The shame was immediate, corrosive. It was the healer’s shame, watching her masterful control disintegrate into base need. It was the Omega’s shame, reduced to this furtive, primal pilfering of scent-comfort. Worst of all, it was the bride’s shame, clinging to the symbol of a husband who’d accepted her out of duty, seeking solace in his clothing.
A hot, sharp resentment flared—at him, for the storm in his eyes that had asked a question she couldn’t answer; at herself, for wanting to answer it yet cowering from it.
She spread the cloak over her bed, a poor mockery of the Nest she craved, and collapsed into it. As she curled her body into the wool, burrowing her face into the fold at the collar, his scent rose to meet her—spruce, smoke, leather,Alpha.
The effect was instantaneous and devastating. A shuddering sigh was punched from her lungs. The tension in her muscles began to unlock. The frantic, frightened hammering of her heart slowed into a heavy, rhythmic pound. Her traitorous body recognized its Alpha and settled.
And that was the cruelest truth. It feltgood. The solace was real—a deep, intrinsic comfort soothing the sharpest edges of her agony. It was a mercy that felt like a condemnation. Pathetic, howpathetic. The cloak soothed the animal in her while reminding the woman, beyond all doubt, just how far she was from any home.
CHAPTER 29
JINGYI
The morning light through the trees was a pale, insistent glare. By the time JingYi reached the village square, the sun stood high, washing the stalls in a brightness that left no room for shadow or for the privacy she desperately craved.
She hadn’t slept. Her mind wouldn’t release the memory of last night. Her leg, too, still throbbed from the frantic flight.
A short, written message had awaited her at dawn.Meet at Ulrik’s at noon—A.Its brevity was a mercy and a sentence. She dreaded seeing him, yet the promise of a later meeting set her heart galloping, nonetheless.
Every glance from the villagers scraped against her raw nerves. A hush settled as she arrived, Tedric and Conrad flanking her. Some stopped to stare. Others bent to their work, whispering as she passed. Their suspicion that she’d harmed Annett unsettled her. But the disappointment in their eyes—as if she’d personally failed them—cut deeper.
Her steps faltered at the sight of Bertrand beside the central well, accompanied by a round-bellied man in an emerald coat and thick leather gloves. The leather bag at his side gleamed with polished buckles, too pristine for real use.
“Lord Fortier,” Jingyi said, keeping her voice level. “It is rare to see you in Lornhelm.”
“Your Highness.” Bertrand’s smile never reached his eyes. “When I heard of disturbing rumours—certain medical treatments causing distress among the villagers—I felt it my duty to lend assistance.”
Jingyi stiffened. Words certainly travelled fast. Or had Bertrand planted spies everywhere?
He gestured to the man beside him. “Allow me to introduce Master Hevlan from the Royal College of Physicians in Niewberg. He kindly volunteered to visit while travelling through the region.”
Master Hevlan bowed with shallow precision. “Your Highness. A pleasure.”
Jingyi returned the gesture. “Welcome, Master Hevlan. Blackwood-Verde has not had a physician’s attention for quite some time. We welcome you.”
Hevlan’s mouth twitched. “Of course. I am well-versed in evidence and dosage. Tremorian constitutions do not vary so wildly as to dismiss good, traditional medicine.”
Bertrand stepped forward, eyes still friendly. “You have done what you could, I am sure. But the people here respond best to familiar remedies. It is natural they would feel uncertain about foreign treatments, especially when they result in complications like yesterday.”
Conrad’s voice cut across the square. “Complications you seem unusually eager to announce, my lord. You hardly visit the village except on the way to the capital.”
Bertrand’s smile didn’t waver. “I am merely thinking of the Crown’s subjects.”
“Then perhaps,” Tedric said coolly, “you should explain why your concern only arose after Her Highness began healing them.Where were you weeks ago when half the village suffered from agues?”
“We cannot be expected to respond to every sniffle in every village,” Hevlan countered. “The College prioritizes real afflictions.”
Conrad folded his arms. “But Her Highness treats sniffles. And fevers. And festering cuts. All without complaint.”
Hevlan’s brow knitted. “With all due respect, she is not certified by any recognized healing institution in the North.”
A hush fell over JingYi’s mind—the kind that came right before a blow. Her spine stayed straight, but somewhere inside she recoiled from the familiar burn of humiliation.
“No,” she said. “But I trained for over twenty years under the Royal Physicians of the Imperial Court of Xûen-Sarai. I too know how to tend a body in distress.”
A few murmurs stirred the crowd, but Jingyi didn’t turn. She didn’t dare break her focus, not with her pulse thudding in her ears, not when staying composed felt like it might splinter her ribs.
