I sit up in bed. I blink bleary eyes, trying to determine the time, date, and why the heck I’m on fluffy pink pillows and a—

I yelp, scootching away from the prince, who eyes me with something akin to a predatory gaze in those silver-hued eyes. We’re on a bed. Together.

Heck if this isn’t quite compromising—

But why are there pink bedsheets and pillows?

“You look ravishing when flustered, Mau Tigress,” Silver says, his eyes not leaving my face. I grab a pillow—a pink pillow, heck it—and hide my face while also scooting further back…

Until there is no further back.

And I fall off the bed.

Silver laughs, the deep sound reeking of amusement, and my cheeks burn an ever brighter red as I rub my stinging tail bone. I squeak when he grabs the pillow. I hold on tighter, but heck, I’m not gonna fight him when he’s so daggum hurt, which I still somehow feel even though I’m not actively using my Gift—who is resting, reminding me of a sleepy turtle hiding in her lake. I shiver, feeling cold from the inside out.

I release the pillow, but hide my face in my hands.

His chuckles light something deep in my soul while also—

What the—

I feel him. I feel him.

His amusement fuses deep in my soul along with his downright wild hope for the future. The blush burns across my cheeks and to my ears.

He eases down beside me, wraps an arm around my shoulders, and kisses the side of my head. “Nothing is wrong, Mau Tigress. Nothing happened. They merely kept us close to ensure the bond time to grow and not prematurely snap it.”

“A… b-b-b-bond?” I squeak—well, it’s a muffled squeak, cause on no world am I taking my hands from my mortified face.

“A bond, Mau Cor. Now you are mine, and I am yours, even if you wish to get rid of me,” he teases, sounding and feeling mighty pleased at the fact, even though I feel the pain in his back like a phantom pain across my own.

I take one hand from my face to smack him, but my aim is off and it hits him in the face instead of the chest. He’s closer than I thought. He chuckles, taking the hand in his and kissing the back of it.

I squeak, trying to tug it back, but he holds it tighter. My other hand is over my eyes, but heck, I know it doesn’t cover my face and cheeks but just prevents me from seeing. But heck it, I’m not moving it.

A thought stabs me in the gut. My hand is away from my face before I can process it, and I’m staring into Silver’s eyes. They are bloodshot and tired, but they are also happy. But what I feel makes the amusement drain from his face and he squeezes my shoulders tighter. He rubs circles on the back of my arm, just being there, hoping to comfort.

“Papa?” I whisper, searching his eyes.

He nods, a small smile coming to his face but also a worry begins there. “He’s alive.”

A sob catches in my throat. I’m on my feet before I can even think. “Where—” and then I realize my quick movement made Arin move quickly to get out of my way… and shoot.

I bend down beside him, tempted to pull his pain.

“Don’t,” he whispers. “I’ll be fine in a moment.”

“Silver,” I say, my hands fluttering, trying to figure out where to touch him to not cause pain.

The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

His chuckle is low and deep. “I’m not some porcelain pet, Mau Cor. I’ll be fine… in a moment.”

I wince. His fine and my fine are totally differe—

He looks up, giving me a one-eyebrow raised stare.

Well… shoot. He’s right. Our fine when it comes to ourselves are not so different after all. But when it comes to each other, it’s another story entirely. I want him fine, fine.

And heck, now he can read me even better than before… but he read me like a book before!

Triple heck.

“Your father never left your side until Sir Hans came for him. Sir Hans was grateful to see his brother—” Arin continues, but I hear nothing of it.

“Brother?” I interrupt mid-sentence.

Arin winces.

Things click into place. Why Hans was so adamant about me coming over the daggum first time I met him. Them adopting me and my family.

But most of all—

“Dad is a noble?”

Arin winces. Again. “He’s, well, he needs to explain that.”

“Where is he?” I demand, only then realize my arms are crossed and I’m standing like some avenging creature from Sixth.

I relax my body, but Arin merely smiles at me. “He’s with your family.”

My mind does a second flip-flop. “Oh.”

I sit on the ground with my legs folded beneath me. They’ll need time to reunite.

Arin scoots over beside me, none of the pain I feel through the bond making it to his face. Heck, he’s got a face of stone when he doesn’t wanna show it. Scary.

He taps shoulders with me. “You can go join them, you know.”

I shake my head. Guilt flares. I should’ve told them that he lived and died recently, but—

“But you were protecting them, Mau Cor. From further grief.”

“Maybe. But I would’ve wanted to know were roles reversed. Especially now that I know he didn’t choose to go to be on Fifth with the King…” I trail off, joy and guilt and happiness and sorrow all combining until I can’t tell one from the other. My father is home. But he is broken and will need time and help to recover. He’s a warrior, but he’s in pain. I know the pain. I felt it. Feel it even now.

I don’t even realize I’m rubbing my chest where the pain sits until Arin grabs my hand, turning it over to pry my fingers from my palm and reveal half-moon shapes where my fingernails dug into my skin.

“We’ll get through this. One step, one day, one hurdle at a time. It’s not up to you to be the savior for everyone and to find a solution for all things that will go wrong. We will cross the bridge of healing with your father when we come to it. And we have people who can help, trained mages and healers who are focused on the mind and soul and how they heal. When we get done saving the worlds—” he gives me a lazy half-grin that’s so endearing I nearly kiss him “—would you be willing to go to one?”

My mind does a kinda spin. I’d heard of people who paid good money after going through losses and deaths in the family who went and were helped through it by talking. It always sounded weird to me. How could talking through my problems actually help?

But Arin… I meet his eyes. They are open, more so than I’ve ever seen. And they are filled to the brim with one emotion.

Love.

A love that is both easy to see and feel. A love which is selfless and wishes for my best in all things, including in this.

“I… will think on it,” I say, staring into those eyes which show so much—and make me feel as if I’m safe. Home.

He kisses my forehead, then my nose, before lingering over my lips and pulling back with a groan. “King help me,” he mumbles, running a hand through his hair.

I grin, but push upright. “The plan?”

I hold down a hand, and he uses it to get up, but I catch the wince that crosses his face. The pain flares and he goes rigid. “Lean on me, love,” I whisper, meaning on more than just the physical. His head jerks up, searching me, mentally and physically.

I put a hand on his cheek, rubbing a circle with my thumb. My eyes take in the burns on the side of his neck, the angry red scabs. My heart aches. “I can handle it now. I am free of my previous burdens, most of which I’ve given to The King. You’re strong, but you can’t do all of this alone.”

A smirk tips his lips. He leans his forehead against mine. “Have the roles reversed, Mau Cor?”

I choke on a laugh. “Yes, love. They have. It’s time I take care of you now.”

He nods against my forehead, taking a deep breath. “Licuit, Mau Cor. Licuit.”

He leans his forearm on my shoulder. I gently turn so he can put his arm around my shoulders and I crab walk him back to bed. He rolls over with a groan, cushioning his head with his arms. I rub his hair, gently taking a little of the pain, and sing. It’s a gentle song of the waves of the ocean, of the freedom of the wind, of the warmth of the sand, and the tales of home it inspires. My voice is rigid and crackly, but for him, I try.

Before long, his breathing evens out. I can feel the way his mind relaxes, could even delve into his dreams if I so wanted. He twitches in his sleep, and I ease his emotion with a gentle push of love. He sighs and relaxes.

I push the hair from his forehead.

I truly love this man. We haven’t had time to talk about the future, about what we want. Haven’t had the energy or the hope. That we may make it through this seems but a small dream.

But it’s a dream I’m beginning to hope for. To desire. With him.

But he’s a daggum prince.

And yet that doesn’t change how I care for him. It just makes things a bit more… complicated.