Page 45 of Taken By the Fae King

“My brother has been sick with worry. He will be better now that he knows you are well.” A grin tugs at her lips. “Healer Draymon will be glad also. Kyven went to retrieve him. He has been badgering all the healers since you arrived, demanding to know why you had not yet awakened.”

“How long have I been unconscious?”

Before she can reply, noise draws my attention to the door.

“I assure you that my wing is fine,” Kyven’s voice rings out, sharp and crisp with a hint of irritation lacing his tone. “Now, please, check on my mate, Healer Draymon.”

“Kyven,” Emryll calls out. “She is already awake.”

His head snaps to mine, and he rushes to my side, taking my hand in his. “How do you feel?” He studies me with a strange mixture of worry and devotion, tenderly brushing the hair back from my face. “Are you in any pain?”

“No,” I reassure him. “I’m fine.”

He sits on the edge of the bed and pulls me into his arms. A deep trilling hum builds in his chest, vibrating against my ear as he smooths a hand down my back, and whispers into my hair. “Thank the gods you are awake. I was so worried.”

“My king,” a man’s voice calls out behind him, and Kyven tenses. “I need to check your wing to ensure it is healing properly.”

“Later,” Kyven replies in a tone that brooks no argument. “I am tending to my mate.”

“As you can see for yourself, she is well, my dear brother,” Emryll says behind him. “It is you who must now be tended.”

“Not now,” he grumbles. “I am—”

I push back just enough to lift my gaze to his. “Allow the healer to assess you, Kyven. I’m all right. Truly.”

He cups the back of my head and drops his forehead to mine. The gesture is so intimate, my heart fills with warmth. “I was so afraid when you collapsed,” he murmurs.

His whispered words melt my heart. If ever I doubted how much he regards me, it is plain to see in this moment. He cares for me. Deeply.

His whispered words melt my heart. If ever I doubted how much he regards me, it is plain to see in this moment. He cares for me. Deeply.

“How long was I unconscious?”

“Too long.” A weary sigh escapes him. “A day and a half, but it felt like an eternity.”

Myriad thoughts flit through my mind and I glance down at my hands, frowning at the memory of the power I was somehow able to conjure.

Before I can ask him about it, he glances over his shoulder. “I would like to speak with my mate, alone.”

I wait until Emryll and the healer both leave, shutting the door behind them before I speak. “I used magic, Kyven. But how is that possible?”

He takes both my wrists, turning my palms up in his grasp. “Just as your sister, Inara, inherited some of Varys’s magic through their bond, I believe you inherited some of mine in the same way.”

“I—I don’t understand.”

Something akin to guilt flashes behind his eyes. “I should have told you sooner.”

“About what?” Worry slithers down my spine. He promised there would only be truth between us, and already he admits to holding something back. “What is it that you have not told me?”

“You are myA’lyra. My Fated bondmate.” His gaze holds mine as if gauging my reaction to this revelation. “I knew it the first moment I saw you.”

“Why did you not say anything?”

“I wanted to, but you are human. Your people do not have fated bonds, and I didn’t know how you would react,” he replies. “I did not want to scare or upset you. And I was also worried your brother would use this knowledge against me during the treaty negotiations.” He sighs. “It is not just that. I wanted to protect you. I have enemies at court who might try to harm you if they know what you are to me.”

“I don’t understand.”

“A fated mate is sacred—a blessing from the gods,” he explains. “But it also makes you my weakness.”

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