Page 35 of A Bond in Blood

The room warmed but I kept my eyes sealed, trying to slow my breaths.

“You can open them now,” Frode’s voice said above me.

I remained unmoving, squeezing my lids tighter.

“Princess, do what the healer said.” Olen’s beastly voice came from another part of the room.

I gripped the blankets, forcing myself to welcome in the light. Fear coursed through my body, but to my relief, the pain that had knocked me unconscious was gone.

As I let out a breath, I turned my head to find the same older gentleman who had carried me out of Olen’s rooms.

Frode smiled down at me and my body instantly warmed with comfort and safety. His brown eyes, surrounded by the aged wrinkles on his skin, sparkled with kindness. My eyes took him in, desperate to memorize the face of the first genuinely kind man I’d met on this island.

Atop his head was grey and white peppered hair, combed back, but he had a full head of hair. Surprising given he appeared nearly my grandmother’s age. He stood confidently, smiling at me while I stared at his towering, solid body.

“You’re handsome,” I muttered, then gasped, covering my lips.

“Well, those tonics are working.” Olen’s laugh boomed out.

Frode’s smile rose, and he nodded his head. “I’m glad to see you’re feeling no pain, princess.”

I was nearly brought to tears when the healer bowed his head in respect. A gesture I hadn’t received since being taken from my home.

“I’m so sorry,” I apologized, shaking my head. “My manners have left me.”

Frode lifted his head then chuckled. “No apologies, your highness. Your inability to hold your tongue only means I’ve done my duty.”

I pressed my head against the pillow, trying to hide my embarrassment. My mind clouded as I stared up at a dark grey canopy.

“Where am I?” I asked.

“In the room my king instructed me to put you in,” Olen replied.

“My back no longer hurts,” I noted, moving my shoulders as the place where my wounds had been rubbed against the sheets beneath me.

“Yes, your highness. The pain shouldn’t come back.”

I turned my eyes from the canopy and met Frode’s kind gaze again.

“You’re mortal.”

He smiled. “Half-fae, highness.”

My eyes widened. “I rarely meet half-fae outside of my own home.”

Frode sat on the edge of the bed. Pulling myself up, I watched the elder gentleman admire the room.

“Nóatún is an island gifted to us by Fate.”

My body jolted at the name of my home. “What?” I asked, taken aback by how familiar Frode was with where I’d come from.

The healer turned back to me, grasping my hand. “How is Hilde?”

I darted my gaze to Olen, who sat unmoving on all fours, near the hearth. My pulse raced while I considered my response.

“My grandmother is fine,” I said quietly.

Olen cleared his throat and Frode released my hand. The healer stood from the bed, addressing the beast who’d been made my keeper.

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