Still, her stomach knotted, because the mere thought of him in the same water had set her pulse racing in a way she didn’t understand. Was it simply because he was an Alpha, impossible to ignore? And she an Omega, naturally destined to be attracted to him? Or was it something else entirely, something she didn’t yet have words for?
When she dared lift her eyes, all traces of warmth vanished, and a chill distance took its place. She had insulted him, clearly.
Her tongue struggled to find the words in Tremesi, so she lowered her head and whispered in Isseric, “Please forgive me. I misjudged you. It is not my intention to doubt your honour.”
He didn’t speak at first, but she heard his long sigh. His reply came gentler, “You have every reason to be cautious. I am a stranger, after all.”
She swallowed hard. Yes, a stranger. One who, in such a short time, had affected her more than anyone else in her life.
He stepped closer, caution in every move. “I understand your trepidation, Princess. This is only an offer to let you refresh yourself after the day’s journey. If you’d rather go with your ladies, I’ll not stop you. But they failed you earlier, and—” He worked his jaw once, twice. “Forgive me, but they are no true companions.”
JingYi tilted her head back to meet his eyes. It was thoughtful, this offer. Sweat and blood clung to her skin, and the thought of her companions’ complaints about her ripe smell tomorrow was enough reason to go.
Besides, a cool soak sounded heavenly.
“Thank you, my lord,” she said at last. “I will go with you.”
She nearly stumbled in her haste to gather fresh clothes and bathing supplies, ignoring MeiYün sprawled on the furs meant for her.
Outside, Lord Wulfbane offered his arm. After a pause, she accepted. The solid warmth of him steadied her, but it also quickened her pulse. The moon shone so brightly that they didn’t need a torch to illuminate their path. He guided her over the uneven ground toward the lake. She clenched her teeth as her hip spasmed, pain lancing up her spine. Instinctively, her grip tightened.
“Your right leg,” he said at once. “It troubles you.”
Her breath caught. So, he noticed.
“It bothered me before, my lord, but not anymore. I’ve grown used to the pain, though I try not to let the weakness show.”
He nodded, solemn. “Very admirable of you.”
She lowered her head. Admirable, or pitiable?
“I’m no healer,” he went on, “but I’ve carried my share of battle wounds. If you like, I can show you what eases them for me.”
Her heart stuttered. The image she conjured—his hands on her leg, the intimate proximity—was eclipsed instantly by a darker one: the laughter of the court ladies, their eyes on her deformity. His touch would mean exposure, a surrender of her most guarded shame.
“Thank you, my lord,” she said. “But perhaps . . . after the wedding ceremony.”
A brief silence. Then, he cleared his throat. “Of course.”
As they walked, she studied him furtively. For all his size and strength, Lord Wulfbane carried the look of someone well acquainted with wounds, and the necessity of disguising it. No wonder. A soldier would know the cost of exposing any flaw on the battlefield.
But she couldn’t bear for him to think her a liability in his household, some limping bride foisted upon him.
“But as you saw, my lord, my condition doesn’t hinder me from being useful.”
His head turned, surprise crossing his face. “I wouldn’t dream of thinking it.”
She averted her eyes, grateful for the half-veil. Her cheeks were warm.Courtesy, she told herself.Or pity.But his voice had come without hesitation—no mockery, no pause to measure the words. That unmoored her more than anything he could’ve said.
The lake opened before them, dark and still beneath the trees. True to his word, Lord Wulfbane stood at a respectful distance and turned away, sentinel-still against the forest’s edge. Even with his back to her, his presence was a palpable force. The night breeze carried the faint, clean scent of him—spruce, iron, and smoke—overlaying the damp earth. It was an Alpha’s scent, but somehow it didn’t feel like a threat. It felt like a perimeter, a wall between her and the dark.
JingYi undressed, movements frantic, the cool air raising goose bumps on her skin. Her heart hammered—not just from the risk of exposure, but from the sheer, terrifying intimacy of it.
A man was standing guard while she was naked. The concept was so foreign it felt surreal. Yet, the solid, unwavering line of his back communicated a promise more binding than any vow:You are safe.
She slipped into the water, its chill embracing her, easing the day’s ache from her bones. For a long moment, she simply floated, listening to the night. She couldn’t see him, but knew hewas twelve paces away. It was the first time in her life she had been both unprotected and utterly safe.
When she dared a glance, he hadn’t moved, his gaze fixed away. A wave of gratitude, so sharp it brought a prickling to her eyes, washed over her. He was giving her this: dignity, privacy, safety. Things she’d never been given without a crippling price.
