Page 49 of Their Witch Bride

There’s a series of nods from them that only make my stomach sink further.

“If not, though, there’s really no need for you,” Prince Drogo says with a glint in his eyes, before grabbing a sip of his ale.

I’m going to puke.

“Stop it,” Prince Rinan says. “You’re scaring her.”

Prince Drogo grins at me, leaning closer, his dark eyes full of merriment for the first time since I met him. “Notice he didn’t say I was wrong.” And then he inhales deeply, slowly. His gaze moves over me and lingers on my chest.

My heart races. There’s no way he wants me. He’s trying to fuck with my mind. So, I’ll fuck with his too. “Don’t worry. I’m not scared; I’m eager for the challenge.” I wish my voice hadn’t shaken when I said the words, but at least I had said them.

He inhales again, shudders, and pulls away from me.

My hands are curled into fists, and I can’t will them to relax. Did I just accept that I’m going to save the shifters?

SEVENTEEN

Rinan

Refreshed after our meal, we gather in King Talon’s bedroom. Having to sit through an entire dinner wore him out, so he’d already found his bed. Although, the bed is where we always find him now, resting, even though we’ve found nothing to stop the Illness once it takes its hold.

Watching the Talon pack’s most fearsome warrior be reduced to this – this shell of a man with his broken, sickly body – tears me up. I once watched him rip a man’s arm clean off his body. Now, he can barely even stand without assistance.

We aren’t ready to see him fall, at least not to an illness. This is not a warrior’s death. It’s not the way any man would want to die. And I hate the witches for it. I hate whatever sick plot led them to make us sick and then force us to marry their princess to save our people.

King Talon’s been a part of my life since I was a pup; he took on the role of my second father, and raised me up along with the rest of us princes like we were all his own. Everything I know about being a warrior, I learned from him. If he fell right now in battle, I’d be heartbroken, but I’d know that was simply the way of the gods. But laying in the bed slowly dwindling away, weak and incapacitated half the time? No. This isn’t how he’s supposed to go.

“Father?” Arlys asks, and his father’s eyes flicker back open. “You wished to speak to us.”

He nods tiredly and seems to take a long minute before he speaks. “I know none of you are happy with your part in the peace treaty.”

That was an understatement. Arlys and I were heartbroken over it. Drogo was pissed as hell.

He continues after a moment, his breathing labored. “You had your own hopes about who you’d marry, who you’d potentially share, and now you’ve been given this witch.”

“We know this is our duty,” Arlys says, but his gaze is hard.

“But in an ideal world, marriage and duty would not go together. Marriage and love would,” he tells us softly, then begins to cough.

My chest aches, and I’d look away, but looking away would be weak. If this man can be strong with the Illness, I can be strong in his presence. It’s the least I can do.

His coughing subsides, and he continues, his voice gravelly. “This is the only way we can fix our problem. We need her to heal the Illness.” He pauses to cough again, harder this time, and we all go rigid until his breathing calms once more. “I know the witches are the reason we have the Illness. The fact that we’ve never been sick before, how fast it came on, and the way it spread everywhere at once… it has to be them. I hoped the alliance and the marriage would be enough to make them stop it, but it will take more than that. It’s going to take us using Princess Tara to search for the cure and fix it before hundreds more lives are lost. She’s powerful, I can feel it in my bones, so we have to do whatever we can to help her root this out.” His labored breathing makes him pause.

“We understand,” I say, even though I don’t completely, not really. How will one witch and one marriage fix all of this? It has to be more complicated than that. Right?

“Swear to me that you’ll protect her. That no harm is to come to her.” His dark gaze sweeps through us.

“You have my word,” Arlys says, without hesitation.

“And mine,” I say as firmly as I can.

There’s a painful moment of hesitation as we all stare at Drogo before he says, “And mine.”

“Her safety depends on the three of you,” he warns, and his words hang heavily over the room.

“We’ll keep her safe,” Arlys says. “You don’t need to worry about this, father. You can trust us.”

His father regards him for a moment before continuing. “You don’t trust the witches, even the one you’ve married, but I need you to trust me. She is the answer to all of this. Keep your promises to take turns sharing her bed. She mustn’t ever sleep alone. The marriage must be consummated and done so regularly. Your seed must find its place within her. If one of you three create a shifter with magic as powerful as hers, that heir may be the solution to any future wars with the witches.” He has another coughing spell, then sighs and closes his eyes, ready to sleep.

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