Page 89 of Wicked Crown

Time stretched seconds into endless what-ifs.

Until her gaze met his.Pain shadowed her haughty expression.She cradled her arm in her lap, and her shoulder jutted out at an odd angle, but she quirked a partial smile.“Pretty sure I lost.”

“Pretty sure you didn’t.”His words came out as rough as the craggy wall she rested her head against.He ran through the list of injuries he could see—cuts and gashes from the challenge, her messed-up shoulder, a sure-to-turn-black ring around one eye.“What happened?”

“Petra kicked my ass.”Vori winced.“I can’t beat her.”

“You just did.”

“No, Mykata and the guards did.I held her while she smacked me around.Worse.I think she was going easy on me.She only wanted the cuff.”Vori opened her hand, the gold of the cuff blending into the shining blood in her palm.“But I wouldn’t let go.”

“Good.What now?”

“What do you mean?”

Of course she wouldn’t be able to plan around the pain.He sucked at this supportive husband thing.“Don’t worry about it.Petra can stay in the dungeon until you decide what to do with her.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you’re the queen.”Hurt or not, she had to know that.Right?

She looked away.“I’m not.I can’t be.I won’t become my father.”

“You’re nothing like him.”

“You saw me fight.I wanted to tear Artanya apart.I became the monster he made me.”

“I’ve seen monsters, and you’re not one.You fought to save Jura, right?What better reason is there than defense of others?I would argue your case to a jury any day.”

She didn’t answer.

Heavy footsteps approached—Jura, guards, and a goblin with a medical bag who shoved past him to crouch in front of her patient.

“Majesty,” the healer said.“I need to put your shoulder back in place.”

“Do it.”Vori grabbed Perry’s hand and squeezed.A shake trembled through their connection, and he wished he had a healing charm or a supersize dose of painkiller to offer.

How did real couples get through hard times?Because watching her suffer sent an ache through him worse than if he’d tangled with Petra himself.He wanted to protect her, to avenge her in that instant.But no, he couldn’t save her from this hurt.

The healer braced herself and yanked on her new queen as though wrenching metal apart.There was apop, and Vori groaned.The horrible sound wrapped him in helplessness.

The healer tested the alignment, lifting Vori’s arm one way and then another.“Your Majesty, slipping skins while you were injured was dangerous.”

Perry’s stomach flipped at hearing her stifled noises of pain.“Shouldn’t slipping skins have helped?”he asked.“It does with shifters.”Not that he’d seen it personally, but he’d heard about it from supernaturals in LA.

“Goblins slip skins.They don’t shift,” Jura said from beside him.“It’s not the same.Her bones and muscles don’t need to break and mend.It’s more like your witch glamours.”

Stones around them blinked and paled.The flowers shriveled, and the floral scent that had perfumed the air faded.

“Internal bleeding.”The healer’s voice took on a tense urgency.“Majesty, we need to get you to your suite now.Guards?”

Perry’s heart thumped hard and fast, his chest tightening as if he’d taken the blows Vori had.“No, I’ll bring her.”He lifted her as gently as he could, flinching when she moaned.

Minutes later, with goblins everywhere in the suite, he’d been pushed from her bedside and told to stay out of the way if he wanted to help.

“Here.”Jura handed him clean clothes.“There’s nothing you can do for her right now except shower.You’re covered in blood.”

He scrubbed down as fast as he could and raced back, only to be relegated to the hallway to wait.Perry thought he’d learned some patience in his prison cell.He’d been wrong.But his interference wouldn’t help the healer.It was the only reason he didn’t shove his way past the goblins surrounding her.

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