Pain was part of this life. Lochlan experienced his fair share. He’d seen queens crumble and families torn apart. He’d felt the sharp tip of a blade pierce his flesh many times.
He’d lost Alona.
But the agony he saw, the pain he caused with his words, was unlike anything he could remember.
This human girl was strong, stronger than anyone else he knew. She’d been taken from her own world and thrown into a battle between queens, yet it was this news that finally broke her.
Her shoulders hunched forward almost as if she caved in on herself. Tears hung in her long lashes but didn’t fall.
“How,” she whispered, her breath shaking. “How did that woman get to Myles?” Anger sparked in her eyes, and she clenched her jaw. “Griff.” She slid from the bed and paced the length of the room. She yanked the towel off her head and damp hair tumbled over her shoulders.
“Brea.” He forced the word out past the pain in his chest. He still wasn’t quite sure what happened or how he’d ended up back at the palace, only that Finn saved him.
But he did remember the weeks before their battle with the men from Iskalt.
Brea continued pacing and talking to herself. “He’s dead. Griffin O’Shea doesn’t deserve to be in the same world as Myles, let alone the same palace.” She froze. “It’s all my fault. He’s here because of me.”
“Brea.” Lochlan tried and failed to raise his voice as a shiver wracked his body and he started convulsing. Pain shot through him, and the room faded away until all he could hear was “No, no, no.”
Warm hands touched his bare chest above the bandage, and the feel of her grounded him, keeping him from sinking into the darkness.
“You’re freezing cold.” She yanked the blankets from under him and folded him in a warm cocoon. Still, he continued to shake. “Oh, for freak’s sake.”
Lochlan didn’t know what she was doing until a warm body pressed up against his under the blankets. Her arms wound around him.
He wanted to protest, to push her away, but for the first time in hours, he started to warm.
“I saw this in a movie,” she whispered, her breath hot on his shoulder.
Not even her wet hair bothered him as he let himself relax in the comfort. When was the last time someone hugged him? It was probably Alona, but that would have been ages ago.
He’d forgotten how nice it felt to have a caring touch.
But Brea didn’t care about him, she couldn’t. How could this girl learn to trust anyone in this world when the man she’d fallen for turned out to be nothing more than a manipulative liar?
They wanted the best for her. Lochlan, Finn, the queens. Everyone in Eldur would embrace Brea if she let them. But he could see it in her eyes every time she looked at him. She wouldn’t believe anyone so easily again.
“Do you feel better?” she asked.
He couldn’t speak.
“I kind of hope you forget this.”
Of course she did. They weren’t friends. He’d imagined her worry when he first returned injured.
“When I was in Fargelsi,” she went on. “I refused to talk to Griff about Myles. It irritated him, but maybe some subconscious part of me knew. Myles is good, ya know?” Her voice quivered. “He doesn’t deserve to be here. His family must be so worried. They love him. Unlike…”
She stopped talking, and he wanted more than anything for her to go on. He’d learned bits and pieces of how she grew up from checking in on her over the years at the queen’s request. The humans who raised her didn’t deserve such a strong, resilient daughter.
“Whenever things were bad at home, I’d climb out my window and run across the fields separating our farm from Myles.’ No matter what he was doing, he had this smile like he was always happy to see me, like I was never interrupting no matter what I needed. He was the only person who ever made me feel like I mattered.”
Lochlan turned his head to rest his cheek on Brea’s damp hair. She’d always mattered in the fae world, even after she was exchanged for Alona. The first time Queen Faolan sent him to check on her in the human realm, he was fifteen. He’d hidden behind a barn as he watched her lay in the grass gazing at the clouds with a boy by her side—probably Myles.
There’d been a simple kindness in her then, a kindness he hadn’t seen since rescuing her from the swamp. But he saw it now in the way she lent him her warmth, in the way she spoke of her friend.
“It should be me,” she whispered, the words barely audible. “Myles is trapped in Fargelsi, but it should be me.”
Gathering his strength, Lochlan finally spoke. “It shouldn’t be anyone. I need to tell you more.” He sighed, knowing she wasn’t going to like this. “I learned of Myles’ fate from… Griff.”
Her head shot up. “Explain.”
Ignoring the pain speaking caused him, he went on. He owed her the words. “We spent weeks trying to find a way into Gelsi, but the magic on the border has been strengthened since your escape. Once, it only affected people of Fargelsian blood. Now, no one can cross without permission. One night, we were camped in the Vatlands, and Griff came to us.”
“Why would he do that?”
Lochlan sighed, remembering the letter Griff had given him for Brea. It sat at the bottom of his saddle bags that Finn had carried across his shoulder for the last part of his journey. “He said he cares for you, and you deserved to know. For what it’s worth, he did look like he regretted his role in abducting Myles.”
“It’s worth nothing.”
“I know.” Giving her the letter would only cause her more pain. He’d have to wait until she had Myles back no matter how much it angered her.
She was quiet for a long moment, and pulses of warmth flooded him followed by searing heat. A cry left his lips, and he bucked up off the bed.
“What’s wrong?” Brea sat up but didn’t let go of him.
“How are you doing this?” His remaining strength evaporated, flowing from his mind to his body. The wound in his chest pulled together as the last of the infection oozed out, soaking the bandage. He yanked at the bandage. “Get it off me.” It was suddenly too tight, and he couldn’t breathe. The moon hung in the sky; it shouldn’t have been possible for her Eldur magic to rise.
“I can’t. You’ll bleed.”
“Brea,” he growled.
“Fine.” With deft hands, she unwound the bandage, her eyes going wide.
It took all his effort to lift his head and see that the wound was still there, though much smaller than it had been.
Brea sat back on her heels. “I don’t understand.”
“What were you feeling just then?”
“Sadness. Guilt. Some anger.”
How was it possible she shrank his wound and pushed the infection from his body?
“I don’t understand.” Her voice was small.
He didn’t either. Shrinking away from her, he pressed himself into the bed, wishing he had the strength to walk away. Brea Robinson had a power he’d never seen before, and he wasn’t sure if the feelings rolling through him were excitement or fear.
Probably a little of both.
###
After the revelation, Lochlan fell into blissful darkness as his exhaustion won the battle. Brea didn’t return to the bed, and he wondered if she was afraid of herself as well.
He woke gradually as one does when they have nowhere to be. Sunlight flickered across his skin, and he touched the wound to see if he’d been dreaming the night before. No, part of it had been healed.
It wasn’t completely gone, and he wondered if that was only because Brea couldn’t yet control the power. She turned eighteen soon and had to be taught.
As much as the girl frustrated him, he’d remember last night’s kindness for a long time. He lifted his head, hoping to see her skittering about the room. A sleeping gown lay draped on the end of the bed, but other than that, there was no sign she’d ever been there.
That she’d ever laid beside him with her warm arms wrapped around him.
The door burst open, and a familiar woman bustled in, a tray in her hands. “Lady Brea, I brought breakfast.” Rowena circled the room before finally seeing him. Her jaw dropped open before her eyes narrowed. “Lochlan O’Shea, this entire palace has been searching for you all night.”
He sighed and tried to sit up.
“No, no. You stay until we can get someone to help you. As it seems Lady Brea isn’t here, you can eat her breakfast.” She set the tray on the table next to the bed.
“I will not eat in bed.” He finally managed to push himself up. “It isn’t proper.”
“Proper schmoper.” She placed her hands on her hips.
He raised an eyebrow. “Is that one of Lady Brea’s odd phrases?”
“Yes, and I quite enjoy it. If you get out of that bed, I’ll go find the queen and tell her just where I found you this morning.”
Lochlan met her gaze in a silent standoff before sighing. He’d never imagined eating in bed, but he could see he wasn’t getting out of this.
Rowena handed him a cup of tea.
“Do you know where Brea would have gone before even receiving her breakfast?” he asked.
Rowena nodded. “Possibly. She could be in the stables.”
“Why would she be in the stables?” A morning ride, perhaps?
“Her apprenticeship.”
He coughed. The queen’s daughter had an apprenticeship in the stables? Had this entire palace turned upside down while he’d been gone? “I must speak with her.”
“Well, you can wait until she returns. You are in no shape to ride to the stables. I will find some guards to help you back to the healer—and we won’t tell anyone where you’ve been.” With one final eyebrow raise, she turned on her heel and left.
Lochlan groaned as he slumped out of bed. The healer would never believe what Brea’s magic did to his wound.
Until he understood what it meant, no one could know.
He hadn’t been able to protect Alona, but he refused to let anything happen to another Eldurian princess.
Not even when her name was Brea Robinson.
Because that girl was not going to make any of this easy.