Who Touched You?

Mrs. Holt laid three documents on the table.

One listed my household privileges. One described the duties attached to my title. The third concerned conception.

I stopped reading halfway down the page.

"He has not agreed to this," I said.

"His parents have authorized preparations."

"That is not what I said."

Her mouth thinned. "Nothing will occur today. Dr. Ives will assess you both before any procedure."

I held on to that single word: today.

The doctor, when she came, looked more tired than before.

"I have advised against beginning anything while the prince's condition remains unexplained," she told Mrs. Holt. "That recommendation has not changed."

Afterward, the housekeeper brought clean clothes for Lucien.

"His Majesty dislikes male attendants in the inner chamber," she said. "The wolf permits you near him. You will assist with his daily care. Ring if you need help."

I stared at the folded shirt.

"I have never cared for anyone in a coma."

"Then be careful."

She left before I could ask whether that was instruction or warning.

The wolf watched from the hearth while I approached the bed.

"You could at least look away," I told it.

It put its head on its paws, eyes still open.

Lucien's old shirt had twisted beneath his shoulder. I unfastened the buttons, explaining every movement because silence made the task worse.

"Your housekeeper assumes I know what I am doing. Please do not hold that against me."

He was warm. That surprised me more than his beauty, although I noticed that too: the powerful shoulders, the scar along his ribs, the dark sweep of lashes against his cheek.

I had imagined someone distant and untouchable. Instead, a small crease in the pillow had marked his skin.

I slid my hand beneath his shoulder and eased the fabric free. His brow tightened.

I stopped at once.

"Did that hurt?"

No answer. I waited until his expression eased before continuing.

His hand shifted against mine.

For one foolish second, I imagined he was helping.

By the time I finished, I was flushed and breathless from the effort. I smoothed the clean collar and found myself touching the little scar beside his mouth.

I withdrew my hand.

"That was unnecessary," I informed myself.

The wolf's tail moved once across the rug.

A servant knocked before I could decide whether I had been mocked by an animal.

"You have a visitor, Your Highness. A representative from your pack."

I followed him to the receiving room.

Derek waited by the window with flowers.

White roses. I disliked their heavy scent. Tessa loved them.

I turned immediately.

"Nora, please hear me."

"You made yourself clear last night."

The servant shifted awkwardly. Derek smiled at him.

"Mrs. Holt approved this meeting. We have private pack business."

The boy looked toward a second door, where a palace secretary gave a small nod. I recognized the man from Lord Severin's retinue.

Something in my stomach tightened.

"The door stays open," I said.

Derek waited until the servant had gone, then set the roses down.

"I behaved badly. I have not slept since you left."

"You looked comfortable when I last saw you."

His expression flickered.

"Tessa pursued me. You know what she is like."

"I know what you are like now."

He moved closer. I stepped around the table so it stayed between us.

"I came because I love you."

A day earlier, I would have done anything to hear that sentence. Now I noticed how quickly he said it, how carefully he watched to see whether it worked.

"You loved me enough to send me to something you believed would kill me."

"I said things I did not mean."

"You meant them until I became useful again."

His smile vanished.

He caught my arm when I reached the door. I struck his hand away, but he was faster the second time. Something damp pressed against my face. Its smell was bitter and unfamiliar.

I fought. My heel hit his shin. A chair toppled.

The weakness arrived in waves, as if someone had loosened every joint in my body.

Derek lowered me into a chair and pushed the door shut.

I tried to call out. My voice dragged across my throat.

"You should have listened," he said.

He crouched in front of me, no longer bothering with tenderness.

"Do you understand what you have been handed? A child born to the Luna Princess inherits a kingdom."

I gripped the chair hard enough to split a nail.

"Your child," I managed. "You want them to believe your child is his."

He studied me, almost approvingly.

"You always were clever when you stopped feeling sorry for yourself."

The idea made my skin crawl. He had discarded me, then followed when another man's wolf chose me. Even now, he could not imagine a life of mine that did not belong to him.

His fingers closed around my chin.

"You would have been mine eventually."

I could barely lift my arm. The iron candlestick stood within reach, its base hanging over the edge of the table.

I hooked two fingers around it and pulled.

It crashed against the stone.

Footsteps came at once.

Derek released me and opened the door before the servant could knock.

"She nearly fainted," he said. "Fetch her attendant."

The boy looked past him. I tried to stand.

"I want to go back," I said.

Derek took my elbow as though helping. His mouth came close to my ear.

"Your brother walks to the training yard alone every morning. Do not make me change that."

I went cold beneath the fever building in my skin.

He squeezed once.

"Keep quiet, and Owen stays safe."

Then he handed me over with an expression of perfect concern.

I remembered almost nothing of the corridor. The servant asked whether he should call Dr. Ives. I nodded, but Mrs. Holt intercepted us, and he hurried away to explain.

I made it through the inner door alone.

The wolf rose immediately.

Heat and nausea rolled through me. My own wolf hurled herself against the barriers inside my chest. I could not separate her fear from mine.

Lucien lay where I had left him.

I reached the bed and gripped the blanket. I needed somewhere Derek could not follow. Somewhere my brother's name could stop sounding like a threat.

The wolf pressed its head against my hip.

I sank onto the mattress beside the prince and buried my face against his shoulder. His scent cut through the bitter residue in my nose: cedar, winter air, clean linen.

"Please," I whispered. "I do not know what to do."

A hand closed around my wrist.

The grip was firm, warm, unmistakably human.

Lucien's eyes opened.

He looked at my face, then at the red marks on my arm.

"Who touched you?"