Page 33 of Wicked Endeavors

She still didn’t have the plants that Gaspar needed, and she still needed the prince to gain access to the Houses.

Marisol tugged Teo’s soiled tunic down over his wound to keep the bandage in place and sat with her hands in her lap, tightly clenched to keep them from shaking. But it wasn’t from the missed opportunity to satiate her bloodlust.

It was from the fact that thinking of killing Teo hadn’t filled her with anticipation.

Instead, she’d felt almost… guilty.

Careful.

“We’re almost there,” Bas whispered, glancing through the curtains. Rojanea was a blur of color beyond, the carriage shaking as they raced over dirt roads and stone paths. He swallowed, and it seemed as if he were talking more to himself than to her. “We’re almost there.”

She stared at her hands, silent the rest of the way home.

Teo didn’t awaken until after midnight.

Marisol sat in the chair beside his bed, cleaning her newly sharpened daggers. The arrows, according to the physician, had been coated with a sedative that would keep the animals docile until a crafter could tend to them. That was what had put Teo to sleep, not the severity of his wounds.

Bas had relaxed at this news, but he’d still refused to leave Teo’s side until ten minutes prior when Marisol had insisted that he take a bath. He smelled like iron and forest, like verdant death, and he still had the prince’s blood caked beneath his fingernails. The last thing Teo needed when he woke up was a reminder of how he’d almost lost his life.

But when those brown eyes hazily found hers, she felt bad for forcing Bas to leave. This moment wasn’t hers to have. That quiet smile wasn’t meant to be directed at her.

“Hey,” Teo croaked. Marisol handed him a glass of lukewarm water and made him drink half before allowing him to speak again. “Where’s Bas?”

“He’ll be back in five minutes or less.” She set the glass back on the nightstand. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got shot with an arrow.”

“They’re called bolts, actually. Shorter than arrows.”

“I know, but arrow sounds more dangerous. A good survival story needs stakes.”

Marisol laughed. “Even on what was almost your deathbed, you’re making jokes.”

“If I got upset every time I almost died, I’d be miserable by now.” Teo attempted to sit up, rumpling his bandages in the process. Marisol considered protesting, but she wasn’t his physician or his mother. She helped him into a comfortable position instead, adjusting his pillows so that they were behind his back. He only winced a little as he settled down. “At least this time, I essentially did it to myself.”

“To save a fake fawn.”

Teo ducked his head. “It didn’t look fake in that moment. It was so small, and it sounded so scared.”

“How did you and Bas meet?”

Marisol and Teo stared at each other in silence, both puzzled by the words that had unexpectedly left her mouth. It felt like a question she should have asked earlier. It felt like a question she’d been scared to know the answer to. This was the boy whom Bas had chosen over her; the Castellans were the family that Bas had hated less than the Seawards. His words in the forest still waited at the back of her mind, daring her to face them, but it wasn’t until now that she realized how much it bothered her, the mystery of this friendship she was trying to use against him.

“Well,” Teo said, blinking. “He applied for a job in the kitchens, and he was my age, which was all I needed in a friend at the time.”

“How”—original, she thought bitterly—“nice.”

Teo didn’t notice her tone, lost as he was in his memories. “My brother, Itzal, was already pulling away, carrying the weight of preparing for the throne. And the other children at court saw me as a prince first and a boy second. Bas was different. He was normal around me, and I became very comfortable with him. We grew up together. I asked him to transfer to my personal guard—mostly because I wanted to spend even more time with him. And he agreed.”

Marisol picked at a loose thread on the sheet. “How long have you been courting?”

“I—No. We’re not. No.” Teo’s hand covered hers, stilling her restless fingers. “With respect, if I were bound in love to someone else, I would never have agreed to fake a betrothal with you. And, false or not, I would never betray you or embarrass you by starting something now.”

“But you’re in love. Aren’t you?” She didn’t raise her eyes. There was a lump in her throat that made her worry about what her face looked like. “It’s obvious that the two of you are more than friends.”

“I’ve never had a relationship that would qualify as more than my friendships. Bas is an important part of my life. He’s part of who I am. How could I possibly label or quantify a once-in-a-lifetime love like that?”

Marisol managed a faint smile. “I understand now.”