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“That’s not fair.” Hurt engulfed his earthy brown eyes, and his voice.
“No, it isn’t,” I agreed. “But that is where we stand.”
“Evanna…” His hand reached for my arm, but Kingston’s imposing figure appeared by my side. “As her former guard, you of all people know thatno onetouches the princess. Not even you.” His deep voice rang with the warning, and Lachlan stepped back, his hand dropping.
“Please, accept my apologies.”
My chest constricted with his words. Lachlan and I had grown up together, trained together, we had become friends and we would always be, but I couldn’t deal with that right now. I had to focus on what would be my next step.
“What exactly are you apologizing for?” Willow asked, confronting him, the spark of anger hardening her features. “For trying to touch her, or for attacking her in front of her entire kingdom, making sure everyone knew how terrible an idea it was for her to honor her aunt’s last wish?”
Lachlan’s face paled, nostrils flaring. “It wasn’t an attack. She’s my friend, I just meant to—”
“Express your thoughts?” Willow finished for him sarcastically. “I think you are confused about the concept of friendship. A true friend would have pulled her aside, to askwhat the heck are you thinking?In private, where he could truly try to understand the motives between her intentions, not fight over her decision in front of her kin and cause a rift between them, thus ‘accidentally’ creating his own clan.”
“Willow…” I shook my head at her. I didn’t want to have this discussion right now. My attention returned to him. “It’s too soon, Lachlan. Too soon.” I side-stepped him, continuing my path.
“The princess needs to rest,” Willow practically barked at him, not allowing him to follow, and rising a finger at him. “Do not think for a second that you pledging loyalty to her just now, excuses you from what you did to her before,” she warned. “Now, go take care of your clan like a true leader does.”
Kingston’s hand landed on my back, escorting me towards my room, but not before his stern eyes sent a warning look to his former right-hand warrior.
Leaving everything behind, I decided to focus on my kin. They were all that mattered now.
* * *
The moon-hours passed in vain as I tried to conquer sleep. My eyes were lost somewhere between the troubles of my kingdom, the legends of the Harbinger of Justice, and Braxton’s eyes.
I couldn’t stop thinking of the man his father had been once, then one he became when he left, and the one Braxton recalled in his memories. They were not the same person. Well, to be fair, perhaps the first and the latter were the same—noble, selfless, and with a courage so great that he would do anything for those he loved. Nevertheless, the one who abandoned us in the throes of battle, after we had lost one of our most precious assets, to save himself was unrecognizable to me.
Perhaps he had realized our fight was already lost, and it wasn’t worth risking his life anymore, or that of his wife for this kingdom.
We would never know.
Rising, I made my way barefoot to the small table next to the window, serving myself some cherry juice from the tray. After berating Lachlan, Willow brought some food for me so I could nourish myself, but I wasn’t able to swallow it. I had truly lost my appetite.
When I reached the window that overlooked the inside of the mountain, I took a sip of the sweet juice, glancing at the torch-lit paths along the houses carved from limestone. Their flickering made them look like twinkling stars in the sky on any given night, yet tonight, they reminded me of Braxton and the blissful moments spent with him on the sand.
My heart reacted to the details he had shared with me about his life, and the image of the disfigured skin along his side and back flashed in my mind. So did the fading bruises and the remnants of the burn on his hand. To say I was perplexed about it was an understatement.
How had his recent bruises and the burn on his hand healed, but the burn he suffered as a child hadn’t?
Furthermore, if his blood was the same as his father’s, like the man had told him, unique, that meant they were both pure. Our race healed faster than any other, but even then, it never healed as fast as he had. From what Braxton told me, the burn on his hand had occurred the same day, and the bruises just the night before. We could heal from severe burns like he had, but never in a single day.
Walking away from the window, my mind whirled with everything I’d learned about him, and his conversation with the man the day I had followed him returned to me. If I understood correctly, the Harbinger gave blood treatments to his son to help him with his illness. To cure him? Possibly. But where did the rare illness come from? Did being in the human world cause it? Perhaps. And how did he administer the blood? Did he drink it?
I dry-gagged with the thought, letting go of the cherry juice that had lost its appeal.
Rubbing my hands over my arms from the sudden chill that captured my body, a new thought inundated my mind. What would happen to Braxton now that his illness was free to run rampant through his body, without the help of his father’s healing blood?
Both fear and dread clawed over my body, making their way to my heart like death itself, leaving nothing but darkness in its path. Chills broke along my skin and I began to pace around my room, trying to decipher the puzzle. He wasn’t my problem, we weren’t even in the same world, but I couldn’t stop thinking about what all of it meant.
If his father’s blood had run out, how had Braxton’s recent injuries healed? Even if the blood had helped his son in the past, it hadn’t been enough to stop Braxton’s back from being disfigured after the fire that killed his father.
What was the difference between then and now? What had changed—?
Even as the question filled my mind, the answer echoed in my ears. Me. I was the difference.
“No. It isn’t me,” I thought out loud, clarifying my deductions. The memory of the glowing Dragon ring on his chest blared in my mind, and I whirled around, heart slamming against my chest. “The ring!”
