Page 76 of The Witch in the Dead of Night

Vesper’s smile faded, her silver eyes searching. “No one could have predicted that the King would lose control, but I still find myself wondering why you did it. Was it really because of Genevieve?”

I avoided her gaze, my cheeks growing warm. “The night of Iltsar, she said that the King wouldn’t share blood with just anyone. I suppose it made me nervous that I wasn’t giving him what he wanted.”

“Oh, Finn,” said Vesper, “I hope you know that that’s not true.”

“I know,” I sighed. “I played right into her hands.”

“Well, if you’re still angry at her about it, I’m perfectly happy to write to one of my more bloodthirsty friends and have her hunted down for sport.”

“Vesper,” I said. “You really are something else.”

She winked. “Don’t I know it.”

Although I was fully recovered the next day, Mordric ordered me to remain in bed. He visited often, hovering around me stiffly as if I might shatter if he laid a finger on me. He had an endless stream of food and nurses brought to my bedside, despite my insistence that I was fine. Every day that I wasn’t training was another day lost as we inched toward the summer solstice, and the timeline was already tight. Even Dr. Murrows found no cause for concern, advising Mordric that it might be best if I were allowed out to get some fresh air. After three days of agonizing boredom, the King finally relented.

The sweet scent of violets reached my nose as I made my way across the palace grounds. The snow had finally melted, and early spring blooms had begun to wriggle their way out of the thawing earth.

I wasn’t sure what I would say to the prince when I saw him. Thank him, I supposed. Try not to think about the fact that he’d seen me nude. My palms grew clammy. When I reached the top of the courtyard stairs, I found him perched in his usual spot at the round table.

“I’m surprised that my brother allowed you to leave your bedchamber,” he said, his eyes never straying from the book in front of him. He flipped through the pages too quickly to actually be reading. Probably.

I stilled. His tone was a warning. “Dr. Murrows suggested that I get some fresh air,” I said evenly.

He smirked. “How fortunate.”

I cleared my throat, lowering myself into a chair. “You left the other day before I had a chance to thank you.”

“For what?”

Gods help me.

“For giving me your blood. For saving me.”

The pages stilled as he straightened, leaning forward to slide the book into the center of the table. He locked eyes with me. “Don’t let it happen again.”

I balked. “What?”

His eyes narrowed. “I said, don’t let it happen again.”

“I heard you,” I bit back. “I just find it hard to believe that that’s all you have to say to me.”

He shrugged. “I’m just looking out for you. Someone has to.”

“Someone is looking out for me,” I hissed.

“I suppose you drained your own blood then?” He smirked. It enraged me.

“I’m the one who should be furious at you, by the way. Genevieve basically tried to kill me.”

“I was unaware that three people could fit into that bathtub. How scandalous.”

An offended noise escaped me and my cheeks burned as I stood with a jolt, the heavy chair scraping over the stones behind me. “If this is how you’re going to act, then I see no reason to remain here today. I’ve had quite enough of you already.”

He stood to face me, a dark pall spreading across his features. “You’ve had enough when I say you have.”

“What does it even matter to you?” I asked. “I’m just a duty, right? You don’t even care if I live or die.” I grabbed the nearest book and heaved it at his head, not staying long enough to see if I hit my mark. I raced down the crooked stairs, taking them two at a time in order to put as much distance between us as possible.

I hated him.