Page 58 of The Fae Kings' Bargain

But as the healer shifted his magic away from her head to heal her chafed wrists, Ria’s mind began to clear. Her cheeks warmed. What had she been thinking? She was contracted for one child. Once Toren and Mehl had their heir, she would be relegated to some suite close to the nursery. Probably near the place she’d been held captive.

In any case, she wasn’t likely to have a say in the child’s name—a depressing thought that wiped away the pleasant feeling she’d gained from the healing. Not even the easing of the other aches and pains in her body helped after that. How could it when her heart burned in her chest from the sad, undeniable reality of it all? She was never chosen for anything other than what she could give.

Never for herself.

Unbidden, her gaze slid to Toren where he paced on the other side of the room. With his green tunic against the overriding brown of the walls and decorations, he was a bright spot of life against the dull. So vital—and growing alarmingly dear to her heart in such a short time.

He drew her, though he was taken. She couldn’t help but long for him, though she was a means to an end to him. It was a dangerous place to be. Perhaps her father had been right to call her foolish all these years.

The healer’s magic cut off, but the comforting smile he wore faded after he studied her face. “Do you still feel unwell? I thought I found everything, but with the possibility that you might be—”

A guard rushed through the door, and the healer glanced over his shoulder, his words forgotten. Ria wanted to shake the rest of the sentence out of him. The possibility that she might bewhat? Seriously ill? Needing more intensive healing? Pregnant?

It couldn’t be the latter. Could it? Not enough time had passed for that—nowhere near. Gods above, she needed to know what the man had been about to say. Ria glared over at the guard speaking to Toren, but her annoyance faded a little at the concern on Toren’s face.

“And he’s bleeding?” Toren asked.

A chill passed through Ria. Mehl. How could she have forgotten the danger he was in?

“There is blood on him, but it’s unclear whether it’s his, Your Majesty,” the guard said. “Sir Macoe is assisting him with the prisoner now, so King Mehl sent me ahead to warn you. He said he’s too tired to connect telepathically.”

Toren let out a vicious curse that had the guard’s throat bobbing convulsively, but Ria was fairly confident it was directed toward Mehl, not the hapless warrior. Because the reality was likely somewhat different from the message given—if Mehl was in pain from being injured, he would never risk a mental link with Toren for fear of overloading him. Exhaustion was quite possibly a coded excuse.

The healer seemed to come to the same conclusion. “I suppose I should stick around.”

Ria eyed Toren. He was scowling at the door, his attention eons away from her. She grabbed the healer’s wrist and tugged softly until he leaned close. “What were you going to say earlier? The possibility of what?” she whispered.

“Ah, that.” His soft smile returned. “You aren’t pregnant yet, but you could be soon. It’ll be at least a couple of weeks before we know if it takes. Until then, it is a mere possibility, and many things can go wrong.”

She blinked. “What?”

The healer shrugged. “Even if the seed does fertilize the egg, it doesn’t always work out properly. And whenthatworks correctly, implantation may fail. Really, it is a complicated process that—”

This time when the door opened, Ria was grateful for the interruption. Anything to save herself from this awkwardness. Then Mehl stumbled through, one arm slung around a wriggling Tes and the other hanging at his side, blood-soaked fabric wrapped tight around the bottom. With a gasp, Ria sat up just as another warrior entered. The second man took hold of Tes, only to force her to her knees in front of Toren.

Tears tracked down the woman’s face, and dirt and blood coated her clothes. But Ria couldn’t find any sympathy in her heart.

All she could see was the blood that trickled down Mehl’s finger to land on the floor with a wet plop.

Chapter27

Discernment

At the sight of blood on Mehl’s arm, Toren almost lost every shred of his control. He pinched his eyes closed as his magic slammed painfully against his mental shields like a sudden flood in the rainy season. Then he held on tight, bolstering that shield piece by piece until he was certain nothing would seep free. Only then did he meet Mehl’s gaze—but no lower.

“How bad?” he asked, his voice rough.

“Nothing dire,” Mehl answered, though Toren could see the pain pinching the corners of his eyes. “A mere gash I reopened hauling our little spy into the room.”

After bracing against another surge, Toren finally allowed himself to study her. She’d donned the clothes she’d worn as herald to the Centoi, but now the fine fabric was coated in patches of dirt and blood—some of it dark enough that it might not be fresh. Ria’s? His vision flashed white, and the floor trembled slightly beneath his feet.

“I didn’t realize it was King Mehl,” the woman whispered. “I thought only of protecting myself. Please don’t kill me.”

There was real fear in those teary eyes—as well there should be. She’d drawn the blood of one of the kings after abducting the royal consort. He could kill her where she knelt, and none would question it. Yet the way her breath heaved and her body trembled gave him pause. More often than not, the worst among the guilty displayed anger with their fear, a hint of the defiance that had carried them through their poor decisions in the first place.

Not so for their spy.

Although she was clearly terrified, she didn’t bow or even lower her head. There had been no fawning with her whispered plea, and she hadn’t used an honorific beyond Mehl’s title. Who was this strange woman who had introduced the Centoi envoy like a carefree bard and attacked Mehl like a warrior, only to quiver at his feet? Something was off about her presence here.

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