Page 68 of Feral Guardian
“Because you’re the heir to the throne,” he says.
I take another, even smaller bite.
“Lilianna,” he practically growls.
“I didn’t like that answer. The less I like it, the less I’ll eat.”
He rests his forearms on his knees in an exasperated show. “And why didn’t you like my answer?”
“Because Belle was heir to the throne when you became my guard. You couldn’t have known she was going to disappear and put me in the spot, so it’s obviously a lie, and I don’t like it whenyou lie to me.”
“Too cunning,” he mumbles, staring into the fire. He stays like that for a long time.
“Well? Am I to starve, then?”
“This is between us, princess. Promise me,” he says.
A secret?
My heart rate picks up. “Of course, Alastair, I’d never betray your confidence.”
“I know…” He trails off, his jaw working. “My mother is a seer. She foresaw that you would need my protection.”
I tut. “Well, she was right, wasn’t she? I’d certainly be either dead on that pirate ship, or at my destination, orworseif not for you.”
He considers me for a moment, the depth of his eyes seemingly endless. “Eat.”
I take a much larger bite and smile at him. “Was that so hard?”
“Yes,” he grouses. “I was told never to reveal the truth of this, so I have broken my word to my mother for you.”
“I’m sure she’ll forgive you. And what harm could it bring?”
“It could…change things,” he says.
“Change the vision she had?” I ask.
He nods gravely.
“Well, I’m not going to tell anyone,” I say with a shrug.
“It may not matter whether you do or don’t. Just having the knowledge could affect the outcome,” he says, his voice downtrodden.
I scoot closer and place my hand on his arm. “I haven’t run away from you yet, and you were hiding a literal demon under your skin,” I say with a chuckle.
He smiles, but it barely graces his lips before it’s gone and my heart squeezes painfully.
“What has you worried, Alastair?”
He’s quiet for a long beat, then meets my gaze. “I can’t lose you.”
“You’re not going to lose me.”
My hand moves before I can think twice. I cup his massive jaw in my palm and his eyes round. His week-old stubble is rough on my soft skin, but it doesn’t bother me. Every prick of his hair is a reminder of the sacrifices he’s made for me.
“I’m not going anywhere without you ever again,” I whisper.
His eyes fall shut as he grabs my wrist and leans into my hand. “Why does your touch feel so good? Like my soul is bruised and you’re the salve.”
