Page 59 of Their Witch Bride

My heart twists as hope spreads across their faces. “I can’t. It’s not the same.”

“How?” Prince Drogo asks, looking doubtful.

“I don’t know how to explain this.” I wince as Prince Arlys dabs a particularly sensitive spot. “Healing injuries is something children learn. Not necessarily injuries to the extent of Prince Rinan’s, but it’s something that most witches could handle. Healing illnesses is deeper, harder, like a tree with roots so far in the ground that only a few could ever hope to find them. I only know of a few healers who are that powerful, and even they might not be able to heal an illness. That’s why our people, especially our men, still die from illnesses.”

They’re studying me, but it’s Prince Drogo who responds. “Does that mean you won’t be able to cure the Illness?”

I hiss, and Prince Arlys apologizes, but I shake away his words. “No, it doesn’t mean that. If I can figure out the source of the Illness, that might be something I can untangle. And if I can untangle that, hopefully King Talon will heal too.”

Prince Drogo doesn’t look happy, but no one responds. So, I guess I won’t be chucked out of the castle window today. That’s something.

A minute later, four servants come in. They just stare in shock for a ridiculously long time before they launch into action, working to remove the bear shifter’s body. Others come in and start cleaning up the blood. Everyone seems disturbed, which is a good thing, I guess. It means that stuff like this doesn’t happen every damn day.

Prince Arlys wraps my wounds carefully, then sets the supplies down. “I think that will do, until one of our healers can do a better job.”

I stretch and survey how my body feels. My chest pulls, tight and painful, and the rest of my body is sore, but it’s nothing I can’t manage.

One of the male servants stops cleaning and looks up at me. His eyes widen, and he stares. And stares. I know I’m a disastrous mess, but it’s still awkward to have his eyes fixated on me like that.

Prince Drogo is suddenly moving across the room, so fast I can barely follow his movements. He punches the servant hard in his face, and the man thuds to the ground, unconscious. My jaw drops open. What the hell?

Before anyone can say a word, Prince Drogo turns to me, eyes flashing yellow, barely controlled rage humming beneath the surface, “Get dressed! The rest of you assholes, get out until she’s done!”

The servants race out the door like dogs with their tails between their legs, and I just stare on in confusion. “What happened?”

Prince Drogo growls. “What part of ‘get dressed’ don’t you understand?”

I want to argue, but I’m exhausted. Going to my chest, I pull out a thick robe, since I won’t be putting a nice dress on over all this blood, and then head behind the changing screen. As I go to pull off my nightgown, I really look at it for the first time and realize that the damn thing is wet from the blood and slicked to my skin. Not only are the curves of my breasts visible, but my nipples, and the dark space between my thighs.

My cheeks heat up, and I hear Prince Rinan say, “Smooth, very smooth.”

Prince Drogo grumbles in return. “Shut the hell up.”

My cheeks are on fire as I press my hands to my face, wishing I had the power to melt through the floor. Instead, I just pull the robe over the nightgown and hide.

TWENTY

Tara

Finally, my room is empty. The blood and the bear shifter are gone, and one of the servants thought enough to run me a hot bath. I watch as the steam swirls above the tub, like a phantom hand inviting me in. I accept the invitation and make my toward it.

Taking off my robe, I catch my reflection in the mirror. I’m drenched in blood; my once-white nightgown is completely red and see-through, far worse in the light of the room than I’d even thought before. I cringe as the memory of the man staring at me flashes in my mind. This is what he saw.

I’m sure my face is now as red as my dress. That’s absolutely mortifying. Drogo knocking him out makes sense now. That’s something positive from him, I guess.

Did he actually care that another man saw me like this? I try not to think too much of it. Maybe the asshole is possessive of me even though he doesn’t want me for himself.

I peel the dress off and slip into the water. The water soothes my now aching body, and I close my eyes, enjoying the respite after such a whirlwind of a morning. I killed a bear this morning! With the sword that told me it would bring down something mighty. I chuckle and scoop a handful of warm water onto my chest.

A knock on my bedroom door scares me for a moment until I remember that anyone trying to attack me won’t knock before entering.

“Come in! I’m in the tub!” I call out. A moment later, Lady Scarlet enters the bathroom. She steps over my bloody gown and looks at me, shocked.

“They told me what happened, but I didn’t know it was that bad. I was coming to check on you. How are you feeling?” she asks, kneeling beside the tub.

“I’m alright. A little sore, but a battle with a bear will do that to you.” I shrug.

“Spoken like a true warrior,” she says, followed by a grin.

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