Page 18 of The Nightblood Prince

“Does it matter?” Yexue regarded me with those beautiful amber-lit eyes.

Porcelain skin, crescent-moon eyes, and a pair of seductive, pouting lips that would make even the fairest of maidens envious—Lan Yexue was ethereal in a way that didn’t feel fair. If his mother really was a goddess who had fallen in love with a mortal, I wouldn’t be surprised.

When he came back to me and touched my cheek with gentlefingertips, I almost forgot how to breathe. This close to him, I could see subtle streaks of silver under his dark hair, slightly disheveled from today. I had never noticed this before. It was an odd feature against such a young face.

Yexue was the same age as me and Siwang, if I remembered correctly.

Something about the streaks made him look even more formidable. Like a tiger’s stripes.

“You are still colder than normal, but your body is warming up. You should feel better in a few more hours.”

I looked away before my thoughts could wander to places they shouldn’t.

???????:Even brave heroes struggle to survive the challenge of a beautiful face.I’d killed a Beiying tiger with my bare hands. I would not let Lan Yexue’s vexing good looks be my downfall.

“What do I owe you, Prince of Lan?”

Because I did owe him now. And it was the worst kind of debt: a life debt.

“Nothing. You saved me once when you gave me the antidote, then twice when you pushed me out of the tiger’s way. If anything, I oweyou.”

“The price of simple kindness and bringing someone back from Death’s arms are different.”

“Are they?” The prince cocked his head, his eyes soft like melting honey when he regarded me. “Simple kindness means different things to different people. To me, a few drops of my blood is also simple kindness, perhaps less noteworthy than the generosity of saving the life of a man you do not need to save.”

My stomach tightened into knots. “Blood?”

Yexue drew his blade, the same one I had severed his arrow with hours earlier.

I shrank back, my hand reaching for Fangyun’s blade that was strapped to my waist, and found nothing.The tiger.A sting of guilt welled behind my eyes. I hoped both the blade and the tiger’s pelt would still be there tomorrow. If someone tried to claim my kill as theirs…I wrinkled my nose. I would retrieve it at first light, even if I had to crawl there on my hands and knees.

“Relax,” he told me as he made a deep cut across his palm. Dark blood pooled to the surface; then he thrust his bleeding hand toward my lips. “Drink it; it will make you feel better.”

Had he hit his head when I pushed him? Why—

I drew a shallow breath when I saw it. Here, up close, I realized that Yexue’s blood was not the scarlet of most people’s, but a deep shade of crimson darker than even the grape wines from beyond the western sea. Not just this. There was also ashineunder the firelight. Tiny specks of glowing blue shimmered like stardust as the blood pooled across his palm.

It was…beautiful.

“The cut will close soon,” he urged me. Impatient, he grabbed me by the chin and pressed his hand over my lips. I was too weak to fight back. “If I were going to hurt you, I would have done it by now.”

His blood poured into my mouth. I didn’t taste the sharp copper I knew from when I bit my lips too hard. Instead, I tasted a strange sweetness, like winter melons mixed with the sharp, bitter tones of aged rice wine. Unlike the haziness that came with wine, I was hit with an undeniable alertness upon contact.

“How do you feel?” he asked when he removed his hand.

“Better.” It was true. Strength returned to my limbs, warmth bloomed at my fingertips. I pushed myself to sit a little straighter.

“Told you so.” He held his palm closer, letting me lap up the remaining blood clinging to his already healed flesh like a cat savoring the last drops of milk.

“Are you a god?” I asked when I was done. My body felt light, like it was floating, and I could simultaneously feel everything from the softness of the clothes on my body to the sharpness of the gravel under my hands. Whatever this was, it didn’t feel human.

There was that half smile again. “Maybe someday I will be a god. Not yet, though.”

“How?”

“You seem fond of that word,” he replied. No real answer followed.

My attention fell to his left leg, the one that should still be injured. “I want my bloodroot ointment back if you don’t need it.”

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