He was the one to uncover the first gap in my identity after all.

  My eyes flit between the four royals.

  Four men who I know nothing about under the surface, who only bring confusing feelings. They’re supposed to be my enemies and yet they’re always insisting on saving me and helping me. For what fucking reason?

  A part of me feels that their intentions are good, they have to be, right? Why would they keep coming to my aid if they were only going to stab me in the back? Conrad was clear that trusting them would only lead to the same downfall as my parents, and that’s always seemed true, but yet…

  None of it makes a lick of sense and it causes my head to throb trying to even slightly figure it out.

  I rub at my forehead and it takes a moment for me to realize that all the eyes in the room are on me. Two pair of identical blue ones, a set of cold green, and a stormy grey pair.

  I turn, my gaze searching out Brielyn who’s looking at me in confusion.

  Another piece of the puzzle out of place.

  I was never supposed to make friends here, understanding how dangerous it is, and yet, the man has become a good enough friend that I couldn't see him die no matter how easy I knew it would be.

  So much to process.

  And the bounty on my head is sitting right on top of it, inevitable and hard to ignore.

  The pounding in my head picks up and a bead of sweat runs down my forehead as I sway slightly.

  Two hands wrap around my waist and I can’t help but to lean into the warmth radiating from the warm body in front of me. My head feels foggy, the pain in my shoulder is worsening and I feel like my brain is about to break.

  “She’s burning up,” the slight rumble of the words moves through me as a hand lands on the small of my back.

  Orrael.

  I’m engulfed in an embrace before I’m weightless, my feet leaving the ground. I blink, but my vision is fuzzy.

  “What’s wrong?” A voice asks and I recognize it as Brielyn, the concern in his voice clear. Maybe he’s freaked out trying to figure out whatever the hell is going on but it warms my heart that he's still worried about me.

  “I don’t know.” Orrael again, this time his voice sounds more urgent. “Did you guys check the wound? Was it infected?”

  Infected? No, not when I have my magical healing or whatever the fuck I’ve got.

  “Yes, it was swollen but there weren’t any signs of infection when I last checked it,” Orrtyn says from somewhere close by.

  There’s the sound of rustling and then I’m being placed against something hard and cold. “Roxanna, I’m going to check your wound. It may hurt a bit, but I need to get a visual and see if it’s been infected.” Orrael’s words are soft but firm and then I feel his warm fingers fiddling with the clothes wrapped around my shoulder.

  Shit. What the hell is going on?

  I’ve never had an infection before, but surely it doesn’t work like this, clouding my brain and turning so sudden.

  The cloth peels away and there seems to be some resistance as if it’s stuck to something sticky. A curse from beside me makes me tense up which I instantly regret.

  “What is it?” I think the voice belongs to Elyjah but it sounds weird, as if it’s far off.

  “Where’s the sword she was stabbed with?” Orrael asks, his words short and clipped.

  “I’ll grab it.” Orrtyn.

  I try to open my eyes and after a few minutes, I finally can. My vision is slightly blurry but I can make out Orrael leaning over me. His eyes are full of worry and there’s a wrinkle between his brows. His gaze is directed at my shoulder and if I didn’t already know something was wrong, that’d be a clear indicator.

  “What?” I ask, unsuccessfully trying to steady my gaze on him.

  His head moves slightly as he raises his chin. “The wound is infected, but… there’s something off with it.”

  “Something… off?” There’s that lethargic feeling again, the same as earlier when I first woke up.

  Orrael leans closer and blows out a breath. It fans across my face before I feel his hand on my forehead. “Yes, I think that there may have been poison on the sword, maybe something that’s slow acting and that’s why it’s only now affecting you like this, I’m unsure. I need to look at the sword first and examine it.”

  Fucking hell, I can’t catch a break, can I?

  Stabbed in the stomach.

  Went rolling off a fucking hill.

  Stabbed in the shoulder.

  Probably poisoned and going to die.

  Gods, I regret the day that I thought this all was going to be easy. Not only is my mind in turmoil but so is my body, something I never expected. For over a decade, my body was pushed beyond every boundary I knew and yet here we are, with me feeling weak and on the verge. Incapable of taking care of myself.

  Having to leave my care in the hands of…

  My heart beats quicker in my chest as I meet Orrael’s blue eyes.

  I’ve got to leave my care in his hands.

  It shouldn't be such a scary concept considering that this isn’t the first time I’ve had to surrender my care to the royals, and yet something about this moment feels different. Maybe it's because the last couple of times I wasn’t aware of what was going on, losing consciousness before the men had to take care of me. This time I’m fully aware and I’m also aware that I’m fading. My mind keeps feeling foggier and my body is burning up.

  I’m going to pass out at any moment.

  A gentle hand brushes through my hair and the motion feels so good. Comforting and careful.

  “It’s okay,” Orrael says softly. He’s close enough that I can feel his body heat against mine as he leans down close to me, whispering in my ear. “I know you’re scared and I know you don’t trust us, you have no reason to, but I promise that I’ll take care of you. Just let go.”

  Just let go? Willingly?

  At some point my eyes closed of their own accord and I try to reopen them now but I’m unsuccessful. “Can’t,” I mutter, wanting him to understand. I can’t let go, can’t leave myself in the presence of men who lean closer to enemies than friends. Even with Brielyn in the room, they could easily overpower him and hurt me if they want to, kill me if they want to.

  But why would they?

  And here I am again with the same thoughts and worries.

  Why would they kill me when they’ve saved me so many times already?

  Why did the Fawcetts kill my family when there was peace?

  They feel like virtually the same question to me and I know that’s what holds me back, what keeps me from falling and allowing myself to trust them. But what if the choice is out of my hands?

  The last time Deightyns trusted Fawcetts and their court the ultimate betrayal happened. It's a betrayal I’m supposed to honor but how, if I place trust in these royals?

  Why can’t I just listen to Conrad and remember who my enemies are?

  “It’s okay, I’ve got you.” That hand brushes through my hair again. “It's okay, Roxanna, you can let go and I’ll make sure no harm comes to you. I promise.”

  I wish I could ask him why I should trust his promise, why they keep expecting me to trust them for absolutely no reason, but I can’t. I already feel myself drifting for the second time in a matter of hours, but I don’t miss the last soft words. “I’ve got you.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “What in the hell are we doing?”

  Silence.

  “So, everyone’s going to just sit around and remain silent now?” A bitter laugh and the sound of something crashing.

  “Walker, stop being a piece of shit.” Orrtyn? “You have no fucking room to talk when you started all this?”

  “Oh yeah, and how is that? How did I of all people start this? If it were up to me, she’d be long dead. I’d have taken my dagger to her throat and ended this fucked up mess for all of us.”

  Taken a dagger to her throat? Does he mean me?

  I try to move, my heart pounding in my chest, but I find I can’t. My limbs are frozen, and they refuse to cooperate no matter how hard I try to move them. Even my eyes won’t open.

  Fuck, I’m just going to have to lie here and listen to them plot my murder.

  I guess it's not like I didn’t see it coming, though. I knew they’d betray me and kill me sooner or later, there’s absolutely no point in them keeping me alive after all.

  “That’s a load of bullshit. You’re the one who saved her when she was going over that cliff, even knowing that it was going to get you beat bloody. And then you went and saved her again as soon as you got to this island so don’t try to throw this on anybody else. Take responsibility for once in your life.”

  Silence. This one is even heavier than the last.

  “What is that supposed to mean, Orrtyn?” Walker’s voice is deathly cold, the most hostile I’ve ever heard when addressing Orrtyn.

  “You know exactly what that means.”

  “We don’t have time for you two and another one of your lover quarrels.” This comes from Elyjah, his voice low and sharp, commanding. “We need to figure out what in the hell we’re going to do.”

  “We’re already in too deep to do anything other than continue to keep her safe and honestly, I’m fine with that. I…” Orrael pauses and he lets out a soft sigh. “I think she needs us.” Soft footsteps sound out.

  “What she needs is a bloody blade to the vein to end all our troubles. Ever since she’s showed up, our lives have only gotten worse than they already were.”

  “You don’t mean that, Walker.” It’s Orrael again. This time it sounds like his voice is closer to me. “Orrtyn is right, you’ve been just as adamant at keeping her safe as the rest of us… maybe more.”

  Why are they talking about me like this?

  And what in the hell does he mean, Walker has been adamant on keeping me safe? Sure, he’s helped a few times, but the man is always talking about killing me. He literally mentioned killing me not even ten seconds ago.

  “Don’t gang up on me. Elyjah is the one who initially said we need to keep an eye on her.” Walker’s tone is accusing.

  Elyjah told them to keep an eye on me? Why and when?

  “Because, there’s something about her… something-”

  “Something about her tits? Because honestly I don’t see their appeal?”

  “I don’t know why in the hell you’re in full asshole mode, Walker, but you’d do best to cut it out,” Elyjah snaps.

  “And what are you going to do about it, prince?”

  So apparently I’m not the only one with a condescending royal title as a nickname?

  “Orrtyn, get him in check or I will.”

  Even in the weird half unconscious state I’m in, I know the prince must be out of his mind or too blinded by rage because there’s no way he could ever take on Walker. Sure, the men have been full of surprises, but it only takes common sense to pick who’d win a fight between the two. Walker is a purebred warrior, after all, a lokanian by blood.

  As if he realizes the same thing, Walker lets out another one of those dry laughs. “This was supposed to be so simple, right?” His voice is nothing but mocking. “I win The Calling, because who the hell else could? Then we wait for you to get the crown and we change things. Yet the plan is already fucked because there’s something about her.”

  I have no idea what has the big man on his soap box, but it’s obvious that he’s furious.

  All because of me.

  The men fighting about me is the last thing I’d expect. They seem to agree as far as most things are concerned and the fact that they’re arguing about why they’re helping me…

  I’m not sure how I feel about it.

  A part of me believes its proof that maybe this isn’t a plan of treachery, that they aren’t just using and manipulating me. They don’t know that I’m awake, that I’m listening to this conversation so it can’t be a ploy.

  Can I trust them, even with Walker plotting to kill me?

  The undeniable truth is that I started trusting them slightly weeks ago which is the biggest problem for me. I’d started to let them in, enjoyed their nearness in a way that I didn’t expect and the turmoil in my head wasn’t as big as it is now. The doubt had still been there, but I’d tried to ignore it.

  It wasn’t until I’d overheard their conversation with the queen that I fully pulled back.

  “We’ll stay away… there are prettier and classier women we can choose from.”

  The words had hurt in a way that they shouldn’t have if I wasn’t growing close to the men. And yet, not even hours later they saved me.

  And I reacted violently, running away, despite the leap of faith they’d taken in saving my life.

  What would have happened if I wouldn’t have run? If I’d listened to their words and let them explain their connection to the rebels? Would they have explained how in the hell the crown prince is one of the leaders for a group meant to end the monarchy?

  I’m not quite sure of the answers to my questions.

  However, if I look at the fact that I’m alive once again, because of them, because Orrael helped with my shoulder…

  They’d have given me the answers and it would have been my choice on how to respond to it. And yet, I’d run before the opportunity occurred.

  “You know that nothing in our lives has ever gone smoothly even before we met her,” Elyjah grits out, bringing my attention back to the men.

  “And you also know that trusting Elyjah and his gut is the best thing for us,” Orrael interjects, backing the prince up. “How many times over would one of us be dead if it weren’t for him and trusting in what he felt or saw.”

  What he saw?

  Silence reverberates between the men before there’s the soft footsteps of someone walking.

  “Have you seen anything regarding her?” The words are low and this time it takes me a while to realize it’s Walker talking. His voice is much softer than it was a moment ago and it holds something strange in the tone.

  Am I the her he’s referring to or are they talking about someone else now and if so, who?

  “I… have, I can never remember what, but I always have this sense and feeling afterwards that it was about her.” What in the hell are they talking about? This conversation is becoming more confusing by the second. “She’s important though, Walker. I don’t need to remember what I saw to know that.”

  What is it that Elyjah sees exactly?

  Walker lets out a long, irritated breath. “Okay.” Short and simple. “I’ll continue to trust your judgement, Elyjah. You know where my loyalty lies. However, I won’t let my guard down, she’s dangerous, that much I know and don’t think I even have to bother explaining to you. You saw what she did to Ragna, only an untrustworthy person would do such a thing. Not only is she a strong warrior, but she’s smart and calculating, watchful. I don’t trust her not to slit my throat while I sleep.”

  Okay, yeah, they’re still definitely talking about me.

  I try to sort through their words, applying it to myself and trying to put the pieces together. Elyjah sees things. What kind of things? Is it a gift of his?

  The royals have been very tight-lipped as far as their gifts go, Orrtyn being the most lenient and even still there's a lot I don’t know about him. I know absolutely nothing about Elyjah’s gift, but it sounds like seeing things may be his gift. So, visions or prophecies? It doesn’t sound that farfetched. I know from the history books I was forced to study as a girl that visions were a rare gift even when magic thrived in Caelumine.

  “I don’t expect any less from you,” Elyjah says and his voice sounds closer, breaking me from my thoughts. There’s a feather light touch along my cheek for a moment and it leaves warmth in its wake. “She is dangerous, no matter how she looks, and you’re right. We’ll trust her but keep our guard up.” The touch moves away and I realize it was Elyjah touching me. “That goes especially for you, Orrtyn.”

  “Why me, specifically?” There’s a scoff of disbelief from the twin.

  Someone lets out a soft laugh. “Your lips are looser than anyone’s I’ve ever met, and you’re a bleeding heart. You’ll let your guard down around her with absolutely no reserve despite knowing what you do about how dangerous she is.”

  “You do have a thing for homicidal people with pretty faces, brother.”

  “Hey-”

  “Just look at how you are with Walker,” Orrael cuts off his brother’s protest and his statement brings a certain silence to the room.

  “Point taken,” Orrtyn eventually says before cleaning his throat. “What do we do now?”

  “I’m not sure yet, I think we need to wait for her to wake up and see what she thinks of this all, about us working together, and then we go from there.” This surprisingly comes from Orrael when I thought that the little group would look to Elyjah for direction. He seems to be the most vocal about plans for the group most of the time.

  They don’t have a leader though; they view each other as equals.

  It’s something I’ve noticed about the dynamics of their group. It’s always been strange considering that Elyjah is the crown prince and I’d think he’d have all the control in the group, but it seems to be equal amongst them. Everyone has the right to their opinion and to protest when they don’t want to go along with something.

  Would it be that way if I agreed to join them?

  But that begs the question in what I would be joining them in. They seem to have it figured out that they’ll work with me even if they keep a certain distance. But what will we be working on? Getting off this island alive? And then what comes after?

  For Walker and I, we’ll be moving onto the gauntlet which poses an even bigger question that I don’t want to focus on at the moment.

  What I really want to know is what they’d want from me, what they’d expect? Because they want to help me but there’s no doubt they’ll want my help in return. And am I willing to give it?

  When you find yourself in the enemy's clutches, you make a friend.

  Uleb was clear on her lesson and it certainly applies to my current situation. I am more than in my enemies’ clutches, and I have four potential friends, allies, who can help me out. As much as it contradicts with what Conrad has said to me, even he’d have to agree with the concept, right?