Page 62 of Bride of the Midnight Prince

I don’t want to talk. My throat seems to close. I point to Edvear as he fishes through a cabinet for bandages.

“Edvear? What happened?” Charity briskly places a kettle on the stove and prepares a cup and saucer.

His ears twitch as he takes a wet cloth and wipes at the wound. I wince. He gentles his touch as he works. “It was nothing you need to worry about, Mrs. Finch. A few assassins came to kill Lord Rahk and for a minute or two used Nat as a hostage, but he quite easily—”

The kettle clangs against the grate. “Assassins?” cries Charity. “Kill Lord Rahk? Nat as a hostage? Nothing for me to worry about? Are you out of your mind?”

Edvear’s skin turns bright red. His ears droop slightly as he turns away from her. “I forget this isn’t normal for you humans. Please pardon me. Lord Rahk has taken care of these threats. Everything is safe now. You and Becky are safe. Lord Rahk and I both take the wellbeing of our staff very seriously. I do not want you to be afraid.”

Charity pauses, peering at me strangely. “Nat? You don’t look well.”

She turns blurry on the edges. I swallow hard. Why does it feel so hard to breathe?

Hurried, heavy footsteps come from beyond the kitchen. The door bursts open.

“Lord Rahk!” says Edvear. “What is the matter?”

The next thing I know, the legs of my stool have been grabbed and rotated, and Rahk kneels before me. He swims in and out of focus as he takes my jaw in one hand and tilts my head so he can inspect the cut. He spits a vehement, unfamiliar curse.

“My lord—”

Rahk growls as he suddenly scoops me up into his arms. The ceiling blurs above me. “That blade was poisoned.”

Chapter 19

Rahk

Bluespiderlikeveinsspreadout from the wound on Nat’s temple. I carry her to the nearest bed, which happens to be mine. Her head lolls over my elbow, her eyes vacant and her mouth open. The cook comes, folding back the bedclothes so I can lay Nat down. Edvear has already left for a doctor.

“Is there anything I can give her?” Charity asks, fussing with the quilt. “I have herbs of many varieties, fresh and dried, but I only know their cooking uses, not medicinal.”

I grind my teeth together. Fae poisons, I am familiar with, but I know nothing about human poisons. Its stench on each of the assassins’ blades was unfamiliar.

How could I have overlooked something so significant?

“We will wait until the doctor comes,” I say tightly.

“But what if that is too late? What if the poison moves too quickly?”

My gaze shifts from the concern wreathed across Charity’s features to Nat’s sweat-slicked face. The sun, only just rising, illuminates the spreading blue veins, reaching down to her cheek and up to her forehead. I look away quickly. “It won’t.”

Charity seems to take comfort in my baseless declaration. It is only then that I realize she referred to Nat as aher. I am not the only one to see through Nat’s disguise, then. Or did Nat confide in the cook?

None of that matters. What matters is saving Nat’s life.

Like she saved mine.

My guard shouldn’t have been down. I should have suspected an attempt like this from the queen after I refused to leave. I should have set wards around the estate to alert me of trespassers.

I step away from the bed, raking a hand through my hair. I am a prince of Nothril. I know better than this—thanallof this. Nat never should have been in a position to save me.

And whydidshe? What could she possibly gain from protecting me? She could have helped the assassins and earned the favor of the queen.

I cannot let her die. I owe her a life debt now.

And Prince Rahk of the Nothril Court never owed anyone a life debt, much less to a human woman.

I wipe a hand down my face.Great Kings . . .

---