Page 49 of Tethered In Blood

I froze.

His grip was careful and reverent. His thumbs glided over my knuckles, brushing against the wounds as if he could erase them with the lightest touch. His hands were warm, rough with calluses, yet gentle.

As if I were something fragile.

Precious.

My heart stuttered, creating a sharp, uneven rhythm against my breast. I swallowed hard and forced a shaky laugh. “It’s nothing,” I blurted. “Just a little…”

His grip shifted, holding me still. He reached up with his other hand, his fingertips brushing my temple as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. The touch was achingly soft.

I wanted to say something—anything. But all I managed was a breathless, startled “oh”, and my body went rigid. Heat bloomed across my cheeks.

What is happening?

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his voice soft yet confident. The words pierced me, leaving me fragile and brittle, like a wounded animal trying to protect itself.

Beautiful?

That word didn’t belong to me. “Beautiful” was meant for delicate things, for things that mattered. It wasn't for the girl who learned that love was conditional, who discovered that affection was a trick, dangled out of reach, a prize she had never been good enough to earn. The girl who knew, with quiet certainty, that he wouldn’t have said that if he had seen beneath her sleeves, if he had truly seen her from the inside.

No.

Beautifulwasn’t a word meant for people like me.

But his hands were so warm, his voice was steady, and he spoke as though he saw what I couldn’t. His thumb traced over the backs of my fingers, avoiding the most profound injuries marring my skin.

“Oh, love,” he murmured, as if he had sensed every fractured thought in my mind. “If only you could see yourself as I see you.”

I couldn’t breathe. I should have distanced myself and responded dismissively to push the moment away before it could harm me. However, for a brief, disorienting moment, I let it overwhelm me: the comforting warmth of his touch, the strangeness of his words, and the dangerous, unfamiliar spark of longing curling in my chest.

A scoff shattered the growing tension. “Oh, cut it out, Heartwell,” another knight mused. Heartwell sighed, his fingers relaxing, and the warmth faded away. With it, the fragile haze that had enveloped me disappeared.

Shaking my head, I reached for something to say to fill the awkward, gaping silence and to mend how foolish I must have appeared. “I— I don’t…” The words tangled in my throat, emerging softly- uncertain. Heartwell’s gaze softened as if he could perceive the battle raging behind my eyes.

He pitied me.

Gods, that made it so much worse.

I took a clumsy step back, desperate to create space between us, but my boot caught on the uneven floor, and the room tilted. A familiar, sharp inhale pierced my senses as steady hands gripped my biceps, arresting my fall. My back met solid, warm muscle. My breath trembled.

His grip was firm. His fingers pressed hard enough to anchor me. I tilted my head back, but Oberon didn’t look at me; he watched Hartwell. The knight’s expression was weary yet watchful, a subtle hardness seeping into his features. He must have known he had overstepped. He must have understood too late that his words had unsettled more than just me.

The muscles in Oberon’s jaw tightened before his piercing onyx eyes met mine. “You’ve done enough, Herbalist,” he insisted, voice firm yet devoid of anger. “The knights will live. You must rest.”

“I’m fine,” I whispered.

His fingers flexed. “No.”

The single word held weight, resting between us in an unspoken vow. His voice didn’t rise or sharpen. It conveyed a finality that was impossible to defy. “Enough.”

Oberon’s hands relaxed and then fell away. He stepped aside, gesturing for me to go first. I hesitated, my gaze flicking back to Heartwell. Exhaustion still clung to his features, shadowing his eyes, but his expression softened when I met his gaze, as if I had become a quiet moment in the storm, a presence worth holding onto.

“I’m glad you’re awake,” I whispered. A small smile tugged at his lips, but he didn’t respond. My gaze shifted back to Oberon, who continued to stare at him. He was merely being cautious. After what had happened with Valdier, he had his reasons. It was his duty to protect me.

So why did I feel as if I was missing something?

Heavy footsteps trailed behind me as I stepped into the chilly night air. “He was lying.” Oberon walked beside me, his expression as unyielding as stone. His usual stoic mask hid a sharp edge beneath it.

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