Page 25

I looked down at my bare forearms. The dark, jagged swirls of black and gold ran from my wrists up beneath the sleeves of my tunic, humming with a quiet heat against my flesh.

Mongrel. The word echoed in my mind.

“Let them whisper,” I muttered, setting the glass on the nightstand. “I survived the pool. If they want to erase me, they can try when I’m back on my feet.”

I won’t break.

Soren let out a quiet laugh, his hand resting on the edge of the mattress. “There’s that temper. Just do me a favor and stay off the training mats until tomorrow. Boreas was circling the roof all night because he could feel my heart rate spiking every time yours stuttered.”

The quiet loyalty in his tone settled comfortably in my chest. In a fortress built on secrets, Soren felt like the only solid ground I had left.

The heavy oak doors swung open, and the easy quiet vanished.

Caspian stepped through the doorway. He was back in his scuffed training leathers, the formal velvet doublet gone, but his presence filled the room instantly. His blue eyes snapped to mine, sweeping over my face, my shoulders, and the fresh ink on my body. A muscle ticked in his jaw before he locked his expression behind the stoic mask of High Captain.

Soren straightened, nodding politely. “The Princess is awake. Her vitals are steady.”

“Leave us, Soren,” Caspian said flatly.

Soren looked at me first, waiting for a slight nod of my head before he stepped out into the corridor, pulling the heavy doors shut behind him.

Caspian crossed the floor in three long strides, stopping at the edge of my cot. He was impossibly broad, his shadow blocking out the window light. He didn’t speak right away; his chest rose and fell in heavy, silent breaths as he stared down at me.

“You broke formation,” I said, breaking the silence to deflect from the weight of his stare. “Aerynn had to tackle you into the stone. Very dignified for High Captain.”

“You were drowning, Tauriel,” he said softly, his low voice rough as unpolished iron. He reached out, his hand hovering an inch above the raw black and gold marks on my forearm. He didn’t touch my skin, but the heat radiating from his palm was unmistakable. “Your heart stopped for two full minutes. Do you have any idea what it was like to stand there and watch—?”

Was he letting himself care? Was there something there for him too or was it just in my head…

He cut himself off, his jaw clenching hard.

“Watch what, Caspian?” I asked.

“Watch the crown lose its newest asset,” he shifted smoothly, though the lie was paper-thin. He stepped back, clasping his hands behind his waist. “The lords view you as a target now more than ever. The Mani Vatn didn’t give you a clear elemental power, which means Dellyn will use the next two months to convince the council you’re defenseless. You need to be back in the rings by dawn.”

Ahh there it was…I was just an asset nothing more.

“I’ll be there,” I said, my voice tight. “Now get out.”

He held my gaze for another long second before turning on his heel and walking out, leaving behind the faint scent of mountain pine and worn leather.

By late afternoon, the walls of the medical wing felt like a cage. The constant checking by the mages and the weight of Soren’s watch grew too suffocating for me to sit still. While Soren was at the main doors coordinating the evening guard shift with a lieutenant, I slipped out through a side alcove, my bare feet silent against the stone floor.

I made my way down to the lower terraces—a secluded ledge of grey granite jutting over the eastern cliffs, shrouded in dense sea fog. The wind out here was harsh, snapping the thin linen of my tunic against my legs, the salt air stinging the fresh marks across my back.

A low whistle cut through the fog behind me.

I whirled around, my hand dropping to my hip out of habit.

My daggers. Fuck. They are still in the med wing.

Mal stepped out of the white mist. He moved with that silent, animalistic ease, his dark leathers fitted to his lean frame. His hazel eyes were dark in the dim light. He didn’t look at me with the cold analysis of the mages, or the controlled panic Caspian had shown. He just watched me with quiet curiosity.

“You shouldn’t be out of bed, Collateral,” Mal murmured, stepping closer.

“I needed fresh air,” I replied, leaning back against the stone railing. “And I don’t remember inviting you to follow me, Lieutenant.”

Mal offered a slow, faint smile. He stepped forward until he was standing right in front of me, his height blocking the wind.