“Orrael, check her shoulder, make sure that it’s still healing,” Orrtyn says to his brother, the warmth in his voice doing weird things to me.

  And that’s the danger of allowing yourself to get close to them like this, you run the chance of more foreign feelings like that, feelings that can cost you in the end.

  Big, tentative hands dance along my skin and a slight pain shoots along my skin, but I’m aware that Orrael is trying to be gentle as he checks on me.

  You can’t notice things like that either, how insistent they are on taking care of you and making sure you’re alright.

  But I have a decision to make and I can’t ignore it any longer. Once I’m finally out of this comatose state, I need to know what I’m going to do.

  It’s time to make up your mind, Roxanna.

  I’m supposed to be surviving and what’s the problem in doing that even if it means befriending men who I shouldn’t. It won’t last long, just long enough for me to use them and to stay safe.

  …The moment you trust the wrong wolf and leave it alive is the moment you’ll find your throat ripped from your neck.”

  Walker was right to say that they should keep their eyes on me, that they shouldn’t trust me too much.

  Because I’m going to take their help while I need it and then I’m going to betray them.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  I don’t know when I drift back off completely, but it only feels like minutes have passed before I feel long, limber fingers brushing along my forehead.

  I open my eyes slowly, my heart pounding in my chest. Despite the touch being soft and safe, my hand instantly reaches for Gwev.

  My panicked eyes meet grey ones when I realize my sword is missing. Elyjah tilts his head slightly as he watches me. His lips are pulled down into what can’t quite be categorized as a frown but isn’t a smile either. His hand is still on my forehead and I do my best to remain as relaxed as possible, but I can’t.

  “What are you doing?” I ask him, sharply. This isn’t the first time that the prince has touched me but something about this feels different, gentle and kind in a way that scares me. How can I pretend to trust them when even such warm touches startle and throw me off?

  The corner of Elyjah’s lips pinch slightly as his eyes stray to where he’s still touching me. He clears his throat before pulling his hands away and tucking them into his pants pockets. He takes a step back, his posture jagged as he watches me. “I was just checking to make sure you no longer had fever.”

  It’s a lie.

  I don’t need to look at the way he pulls his bottom lip into his mouth slightly to know that he isn’t telling the truth, it’s clear in the unsteadiness of his voice.

  I decide to not call him out on the lie as I take a deep breath. “And?”

  “And what?” he asks, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

  I try to push down the amusement that tries to fight to the surface. So, the prince is a bad liar, good to know. “Do I still have a fever?” I question.

  He shakes his head slightly, sending strands of his black hair flying, some of the grey strands peak through. “No.”

  “Mhmmm.” I turn my focus away from him as I take in my surroundings. We’re still in the cave but the soft cushion underneath me is definitely man made and doesn’t belong in a cave. I frown, sitting up and taking in the long ottoman. It’s just long enough for me to lie on with only my feet hanging off and from the threads of it, it’s extremely well made.

  “What is this doing here?” I question Elyjah, turning to look at him.

  “Orrael and I retrieved it from the castle and brought it here for you to lie on so that he could inspect your wound and keep an eye on you.”

  “He portaled?” I question, but it’s obvious what the answer is. The ottoman wouldn’t have gotten here any other way.

  “Yes,” Elyjah nods and I notice that he leans back slightly on his heels, as if uncomfortable.

  It’s almost as if he expects me to flip out and try to attack him at any moment.

  Okay, so maybe the idea isn’t too foreign considering my previous bouts of violence.

  But I’m not going to attack any of them while I need them, they just don’t know that yet.

  And how do I approach that without it seeming so sudden and out of place? I’ve been turning their help down in any way that I can ever since I’ve met them. And any help that I have taken, I’ve done so reluctantly, making my feelings clear about everything.

  To suddenly wake up from passing out and saying I trust them. They’ll either think I have a head injury or become aware that I heard their conversation.

  I remain silent, thinking on it as I turn my gaze to my shoulder. It’s a little hard to see with the thick fabric wrapped around it but when I move the limb, I don’t feel any immediate pain. Frowning, I raise the opposite hand and rub at the wound.

  No, still no pain.

  Warm hands push mine out of the way and I snap my head up to find Elyjah focused on my shoulder as his hands undo the wrapping, slow and gentle. “Orrael was able to figure out the poison,” he says slowly, and I know he feels my gaze on him. “He placed thie leaves down into the wound and on top and it reacted as an antidote.”

  Thie leaves aren’t hard to come by but I’d never known that they could be used as a healing plant. “How did he know that it’d work?” I ask.

  A muscle twitches in Elyjah’s face, and his eyes find mine, a slight gleam in them. His hands pause on my shoulder. “Orrael is a genius,” he says simply, and I hear the pride underneath the words. “They both are, the Bae twins. Orrael however has dedicated more time to his studies than Orrtyn, though they both hold more knowledge than I could ever dream of.”

  His words are full of love and admiration as he speaks of his two friends, his future advisors.

  Or at least they’d be his advisors if I ever let him keep his crown, but I won’t, and I can’t forget that.

  Still, I watch him closely and ask, “Is it because of their future positions that they know so much?”

  He shakes his head. “No, even though it is required that advisors remain aware of our history and our laws, the dedication that the Bae twins have goes beyond duty. They love knowledge and learning.” A small smile plays on his lips and he shakes his head as his hands resume their work on untying the cloth. “When we were younger, I had them help me with my tests and lessons more than once.”

  “Help?” I take in the mischievous look on the man’s face. A smile of my own tries to break free, but I push it back. Red Flag. “You mean cheated?”

  He glances up, amusement dancing in his eyes. His lips twist into a smirk. “I think cheated is a bit of a strong word, but… yeah.”

  “So, you’re not a fan of learning then?” I question.

  He wrinkles his nose slightly. “To an extent, but when we were younger I felt it was a waste of time. Why would I need to learn things when I’d always have people who could recall things for me when I needed them to?”

  “Why are you always doing your studies? You’ll have advisors when you’re queen to remember everything you need to know.” I frown at my sister, my eyes dragging to the book sitting in front of her.

  She looks up at me, tilting her head to the side slightly. “Roxanna, you can’t always rely on others. Plus, I don’t want to be a brainless queen. I want to be able to provide my kingdom with the best queen they can have and if I don’t devote myself to everything I do, then that won’t be possible. Do you understand?”

  I’d nodded my head at the time, even though I didn’t exactly understand what my sister was saying. Like Elyjah, I’d thought it a waste of time for her to do what others could do for her. I now understand the importance of independence and being capable even when it comes to something as boring as knowledge.

  “Then I got older and realized the flaws in my theory,” Elyjah says, bringing my attention back to him. His grey eyes are on me.

  Something about his gaze as it brushes along my face makes my cheeks heat and I try to ignore it.

  I clear my throat, finally noticing that the cloth was now lying next to me and apparently Elyjah finished unwrapping the wound while I wasn’t paying any attention. I turn my eyes to my shoulder and suck in a light breath when I see it.

  The skin is unblemished, not so much as a scratch or bruise in its place. If I didn’t know any better, I’d never know that I was stabbed. Just like with my stomach.

  I trail my fingers along the spot, but it's smooth to the touch and there isn’t any pain at all. “Woah. Thie leaves did this?” I ask, glancing up at Elyjah.

  He runs his tongue along his lip as his gaze drops to my shoulder and I’m thankful he isn’t looking at my face or he’d see the way my lips part at the motion.

  Fuck. Stop it.

  He steps forward and moves his hand closer as if to touch my skin but then he pulls back, letting his hand drop down to his side. He tilts his head to look at me. “No, thie leaves did most of the work, but when we wrapped it, the wound was still there. We thought that there would at least be a scar,” he reveals before shaking his head. “Should have known better from what we’ve previously seen from you and your healing.”

  A question hangs in the air between us.

  Why do you heal so quickly?

  Unfortunately, for both of us, I have no idea why all of a sudden my body has decided it wants to heal quickly. It can’t be the severity of the wound because there have been many times after my training that a wound was bad enough to have both Conrad and I worried. I’d always heal, but at a much slower rate, the usual rate of a pure blood.

  However, the fact that my wounds are now healing within hours is something new, and they don’t leave blemishes.

  Could I have a healing gift?

  It isn’t the first time that the thought has occurred to me, but I have no way of verifying my theory at this point. I could just be healing quicker from the mix of being Caelestin and being back in Caelumine.

  Maybe something about the magic of the lands is singing to my blood in a new way?

  I glance at the mark on Elyjah’s neck. It's nearly hidden under the collar of his shirt, but I know what sits there without even looking. A mark that looks like a C with a bold slash through the bottom. The same mark sits on my neck, marking me as Caelestin, but it's been glamored into the mark of a caelorn, like the one on Walker.

  If it's a Caelestin thing then Elyjah wouldn’t be so shocked, because he’d also experience the same healing abilities.

  But if it truly is a gift, does it mean the fire was a fluke or that I potentially have two gifts?

  I frown, looking at Elyjah. If it is a healing gift, does that mean I can heal others?

  “What is it?” Elyjah asks, stepping closer, his body warming mine.

  I refrain from shrinking away at his nearness. I direct my attention around the cave. It’s daylight and I’m not quite sure how long I was actually out. Days? Hours? And where in the hell are the others. Not even Brielyn is in sight.

  “Where did the rest of the guys go?” I ask, turning back to Elyjah, switching the topic.

  “Out to search for food,” he says. I can tell from the small frown on his face that he isn’t happy about the change in topic. “Orrael wanted to portal back to the castle for food but he’s already been using his gift way too much and I didn’t want him to continue to tempt fate so they’re doing some old fashioned hunting.”

  I think of the Bae twins and their tidy nails and hair. I’d like to say I couldn’t see either of them hunting. Orrtyn didn’t do much other than tote the animal back to camp when we went hunting, after all. But then I remember the well-kept royal snapping the neck of the man who stabbed me.

  Okay, so maybe the Bae twins can be ruthless when they need to be.

  Images of the men saving me from Delia appear in my head, unbidden again, but it’s a reminder that the men at least know the basics of fighting. They did fight for me, even if I want to forget it.

  “How did you end up being left behind on babysitter duty?” I ask, pushing to my feet. Sitting on the ottoman puts me way too low beneath Elyjah. Even if he is still a foot taller than me while standing it’s better than being almost on the floor.

  “I volunteered,” he says, simply, his eyes inspecting me from head to toe.

  I wrap my arms across my chest, becoming aware of the fact that my stomach is still on view from having to tear the shirt.

  “And why would you do that?” I ask him, keeping my eyes pinned on his face.

  His grey eyes meet mine and there seems to be a storm turning in them as he watches me. “Because it’s about time that we talked, Roxanna, one on one.”

  His words are low, but it doesn't take away from the intensity of them or the way that his eyes refuse to leave me, as if searching for everything hiding beneath the surface.

  My throat feels tight as I stare back at him.

  What could we possibly have to talk about?

  What could I say that won’t give away who I am or what my plans are?

  Is this my opportunity to act as if I had a change of heart without it seeming to come out of the blue?

  I nod sharply, keeping my face blank. “Very well then, let's talk, prince.”

  His eyes move over me for a moment before he returns my nod. “Maybe this would come best if we’re both sitting,” he says. While I expect for him to take place on the ottoman, he instead sits on the cold hard ground. And somehow it doesn’t make him seem any less of a royal. His clothes are still pressed to perfection, his short hair only has a few strands out of place and the confidence in his posture is hard to miss.

  This is a man always in control and aware of his actions.

  It’s something I must remember.

  I debate sitting on the ottoman in front of him or on the floor, but decide if we’re going to have this conversation, whatever it is, it should be as equals.

  I plop down on the floor in front of him, the hard rock biting into my bones.

  “What is it that you feel we need to talk about?” I question.

  “Working together,” he says with a fixed look of concentration on his face.

  “Aren’t we already doing that? I’d be dead otherwise.” There that sounds like the words of someone who is at least a little grateful for having their life saved repeatedly.

  Elyjah tilts his head to the side slightly and I realize it's something he apparently does often. “I’d like to think so, but I’m not an idiot. You don’t trust us and frankly I’m not sure that we should trust you.”

  I bite down on my bottom lip as I think that over. Elyjah’s eyes follow the motion and I quickly release my lip. “I’m not going to disagree with you,” I finally settle on saying.

  His fingers flex slightly in his lap. “So, my question is how do we get there? How do we earn your trust?”

  That’s not what I expected him to say. I’d thought that he'd just insist that I should trust them without reason and expect me to fall into place. I certainly didn’t expect him to ask what they need to do to earn my trust.

  I shake my head slightly as I try to figure out an appropriate answer. What would they need to do for me to trust them temporarily? Key word being temporarily, though I won’t let them know that.

  I study the prince’s face, finding his grey eyes serious and his lips turned into a firm frown.

  “Why do you want to help me?” It seems like a simple question, and yet it’ll tell me everything I need to know. I know what I heard while I wasn’t fully conscious but not only was it not clear, but it wasn’t directly said to me and I want to know if Elyjah’s answer remains the same while speaking to me directly.

  Will you lie, prince, or will you finally tell me the truth?

  A muscle twitches in his jaw before he lets out a soft sigh and leans forward, bracing one of his hands in the space between us.

  “That’s a difficult question.”

  It shouldn't be.

  “Why?” I raise a brow at him.

  His eyes move away from me for a second before returning and I watch as his shoulders tense slightly. “There are four of us and only one of me. I can’t answer for all of us.”

  “I’m sure you could, actually,” I oppose. I’ve seen the way they operate, and I know that communication is one of the key factors. I have no doubt he could answer this question for all of them. “But I’ll take just your answer for now. Why do you want to help me, Prince Elyjah Fawcett?” The name feels weird rolling off my tongue and I realize it’s because it lacks the usual edge of hate.

  It’s just part of the act.

  Elyjah gives a small nod and blows out a breath of air, his chest moving with the motion. “Well, it’s simple, Roxanna Delamontee, you remind me of a girl I once knew.” I tense, hoping that isn’t all he’s going to give me, but instead he continues as sorrow enters his voice. “I once… I once loved this girl and she had the kindest, most beautiful, blue eyes. Her blonde hair was a beacon of light even in the toughest of times and her smile…” his own lips turn up slightly as he shakes his head wistfully, “well, her smile could’ve ended wars.”

  His words are spoken with so much affection, so much love that it catches me off guard. His smile is genuine but still it doesn’t seem exactly joyous and an air of melancholy surrounds him.

  “What happened to her?” I can’t help but ask as a heavy feeling settles in my gut.

  The smile drops completely from Elyjah’s face and he visibly stiffens. His lips are pressed tightly together, his eyes blank, and his body is full of tension. After a moment he blows out a breath of air and his shoulders drop. His eyes don’t meet mine. “She died.”

  I search his face, looking for a lie but come up empty. Even though the man won’t look at me directly, I can still see the pain in his eyes. A part of me wants to ask what exactly happened to this girl that he speaks of, but I decide against it. It’s obvious it’s hurtful for him to talk about it, and he’s already divulged what I really need to know. Maybe I’ll push for more another day, but not now.