Page 100 of The Blood Queen

“Yes.” I toyed with the wineglass. “Perfect. But for someone other than me.”

Her mouth twisted to the side. “Is that your guilt talking?”

No, it’s my heart, Bedisa.

She didn’t answer through the bond. I watched her throat move as she swallowed more wine. “Did she love you?”

“Yes.”

“She’s still in love with you. Did she hear your voice in her head?”

My throat dried up. “She said she did.”

“Fallon hears Mace.” Noa’s lips trembled. She pressed them together. “But he doesn’t hear her.”

“I know.”

“It’s tragic, really. When one person hears and the other… refuses.”

“I’ve never heard her through a bond, Noa.” I slid my fingers around her icy hand, offered my warmth. “She said she heard me, but I didn’t believe her.”

“Did you love her?”

The question hung in the air like the snowflakes slowly falling.

“I was fond of her.”

“A sad insult, don’t you think? To only be fond of someone after sleeping with them.”

“Noa…”

“That’s why Anson didn’t want you here. Not for me, but to protect her.”

I cleared my throat. “Anson’s reasons are his own. I wanted to protect you.”

After a moment, while she turned her head toward the musician setting up in the square, Noa admonished, “Drink your wine, Grayson. This is going to be a long conversation.”

“Would you like to eat?”

“Dinner would be nice.”

I signaled the waitress, ordered the creamy chicken Alfredo Noa liked. Asked for a bottle of wine at the table.

As I topped off Noa’s glass, she said, “Start at the beginning.”

“I met her through Anson.”

“When?”

“During the war with Alpen. We were fighting in the eastern territory. Casualties were mounting, and Anson sent reinforcements, along with healers for the injured. Lila was talented, young, full of enthusiasm. She reminded me of myself, and we’d talk when she had questions about war wounds.”

“In the evenings,” Noa said, as if framing the image through her camera lens. “Sitting around a fire. Watching sparks flare up.”

I reached for the wine. “Close enough.”

The waitress slid the dinner plates onto the table with an apology over the interruption. Noa murmured a “thank you,” and picked up her fork. I waited until she’d eaten more than a few bites. I didn’t like the weight she’d lost, the bruised look in her eyes.

She put another bite in her mouth, her lips closing around the fork the way I’d seen them close around me many times. “You were intimate?” she asked after she’d swallowed.

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