Page 51 of Bloodguard

Regret darkens her face, and I sense her disappointment in both of us.

It doesn’t sit right with me. Caution be damned.

“Maeve, Dahlia is my sister. She’s almost eleven. And Rose, my other sister, should be fourteen by now. They and my mother are the only ones my winnings go to.”

“Oh,” Maeve says. She smiles at me playfully. “You’re not such a prick after all.”

“Now you’ve gone too far, Princess.”

Her laugh is as refreshing as the first rains after a season of drought. My gaze fastens on hers. Maeve is different. And this…whatever this is, could become something more.

Shit. What am Idoing?

No, what am I doing withher?

Maeve tucks the thick covers around me, then sits beside me, her hand next to mine, just barely touching, but I feel that connection down to my bones. We’re quiet for several minutes. Maybe she’s thinking she’s lucky I didn’t die, that she’d have to find herself another gladiator about to be Bloodguard. Outside of me and Sullivan, only Luther was close. I wonder if he made it through the night. If her medicine was enough to help him survive.

“Thank you,” I say, “for healing me.”

She had her motives, but I’m grateful all the same.

Her expression softens with concern and something more. I let the sensation between us simmer. An excitement thrums through my blood that’s much like the anticipation of a match in the arena—I smile inwardly—just without the threat of being mauled by some vicious beast.

Speaking of… “There was an animal here,” I say. “The night you treated me.”

“There wasn’t an animal.” Maeve puckers her brow. “All right, maybe not an animal, but…” Her voice trails off as she frowns.

“A shifter,” I say. “That’s it, isn’t it?”

“Sure.” She shrugs, all too casually. “Anyway, if there’s something special you’d like for supper, I can send word.”

She’s nervous, but I don’t get why. Shifters are plentiful, and some high-ranking members of the royal court are shifters if I’m not mistaken. “Maeve, what is it?”

Sadness creeps along her features, but I can’t assess why. It doesn’t sit well with me. “Maeve?” I say, keeping my tone soft.

Impending tears glisten in her eyes, but not a single one falls. “It’s just that as much as I want to, there are some things I’ll never be able to change. Even if I become queen.”

“Do you mean freeing your papa?”

“No. Papa is getting out no matter what I must do.”

The determination in her tone is tinged with grief. “Then is it all the lives lost in the arena?” I ask.

Maeve presses her lips together. “Yes, and more.”

Had I met Maeve sooner, perhaps she,we, could have spared those lives…including Sullivan’s.

Sullivan.

I grimace when the muscle in my upper leg painfully spasms as I try to edge off the bed.

“Is something wrong?” she asks. “Do you need to adjust your position?”

“No,” I say, shaking off the pain. I press my palms into the mattress, the cool cotton sheet begging me to return to its comfort. “Just been in bed too long.” I glance at the oval window above, where the gnome cardinals continue to circle and play. “Is it nice out?” I ask.

“It’s beautiful,” she answers cautiously.

She backs away in the direction of the wall and presses a brick. With a squeak, the wall opens…revealing Maeve’s workstation. I’m in a hidden room within the cottage.

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