Page 129 of Fated or Knot

Tormund didn’t seem to hear that remark. “A surprise, then. Should I get some raw meat and sadness too?”

“Hmm. Shrimp tempura for me.”

The redcap gasped and headed for the door. “Something cooked!”

Marius nuzzled me again, purring louder for a short spell before he let it fade. “Feeling civilized for once,” he murmured. Isat up as he shifted away and headed for his clothes. “Don’t get too comfortable. I’m going to get my bruise salve and be right back.”

I thought this was about the bruises from my crutches. “You really don’t have to?—”

“I bruised you more, delicate female,” he interrupted in a growl. He was dressed and out the door soon after. I waited until then to probe around my skin, finding tender patches where he’d grabbed my hips. It still wasn’t a big deal, though. I’d liked it.

I felt bad about making Fal wait. Now that I wasn’t feeling too heavy to move, I was also noting how much of a sweaty mess I was and how I had drying come making my thighs sticky. It wasn’t my best showing.

It didn’t help that, now that I knew how intimate mating really was, I saw how obvious it was that Fal was the most experienced with it. Hopefully he wouldn’t compare me to past experiences.

“Sliver for your thoughts?” he asked. He hadn’t moved, but he’d noticed the shift in my demeanor.

“Um. I would like to wash. Sorry. I know you’ve waited for your turn,” I said.

“All right. Let’s wait for the bruise salve, at least.” He didn’t make a move to leave his spot on the bed, though he’d rolled over and rested his chin on his folded hands. “Until very recently, I didn’t know Marius knew how to apologize out loud. He merely fixes his mistakes when possible. I suspect that’s what this is.”

I nodded in agreement.

He flashed his mischief-lined smile. “You all right?” He was definitely fishing, using that handsome face to his full advantage.

It was working, too, but I didn’t have to tell him my every intrusive thought even though I considered it. “Yeah. How aboutyou? That’s the longest I think you’ve gone without putting in your opinion.”

Fal smacked his lips playfully. “Please. I have impeccable manners. The last thing you needed was me starting a fight by pointing out what they were doing wrong.”

I spluttered and giggled; that was such a Fal answer. I should’ve expected it. He laughed with me for a moment before there was a knock at the door, coming from the study. “That’ll be the salve.” He rolled to his feet and retrieved a little pot left on the other side with no sign of the kelpie that’d delivered it.

I sat up too, making my way to the edge of the bed. I could walk with the cast without damaging it, but it was slow and awkward with how much it weighed down my leg. That feeling was doubled when I tried to lift onto my good foot, hand braced on the bedside table.

Fal was there the next moment, lifting me in his arms. He twirled us both as if we were dancing, humming a few bars of a song before actually singing to me in Serian, “If only you’d call out when you needed me, I’d be there.”

I blinked in surprise. He had a fabulous singing voice. How had I not known this about him? “Sorry,” I said.

He nipped my ear. “Thoughts on musical theater?” he asked in a normal speaking voice. “It drives my family crazy when I burst into song. I am, allegedly, obnoxious.” Tossing his hair, he rattled his earrings and rolled his eyes at the same time.

I giggled. “Could be overly dramatic,” I said.

“That’s not a ‘no, don’t ever do it,’” he sing-songed, tossing the pot of salve aside and setting me in the rain room. He stepped inside with me and turned on the shower.

“You have a great voice,” I said.

“Thanks. It’s attached to a great body.”

I covered my face with my palm. “Fal, c’mon.”

He grinned and lathered up his hands with the soap. “Don’t mind me. Just seeing how much I can get away with before even you tell me to stop.” He tilted my chin up and washed my face first, talking all the while. “In truth, I’m hoping to corrupt you to sing with me. I’m a member of a local theater troupe. Got there on my own merits rather than my title. I usually have enough spare time to join a production once a year.”

I peeked up at him after he rinsed my face and threaded his fingers into my wet hair, massaging the back of my head. Musical theater? Me? I closed my eyes and purred while he rubbed.

“Thus, you were the Prince of Winter,” I mused. I should’ve realized this earlier, with how he still had the temporary tattoos from the role. He was still a perfect fit to portray the character. “But I don’t sing.” Or have nearly the confidence to join him on a stage, for that matter.

“You’re named after a bird. Of course you sing. Now, will you tell me what’s wrong?”

It was hard to tense with him going back to massaging my scalp, but I did stop purring. “It’s nothing,” I said.

---