Finn folds his arms. “You mentioned that last night.”
“I went to the party to get my mind off it, but I saw Riaan and told him what happened. He found me later and let me know that the girl was gone and that it was a good time to . . . regain Sebastian’s trust.”
Kane gapes at me. “Why the hell do you need to regain his trust when he’s the one who was with another female?”
I bow my head. “He’s supposed to be choosing a bride. Since I won’t take the position, it’s not exactly fair that I was upset about this.”
Kane snorts. “How convenient for him.”
A thousand excuses for Sebastian’s behavior sit on the tip of my tongue, but each tastes a little sour even in the light of a new day, so I swallow them back. Yes, I wish he’d been more up-front with me about his physical relationships with the other girls. Yes, it hurts that he left my room and took someone else to his. But my complicated feelings for Sebastian are even more complicated by what happened last night with Finn . . . or what didn’t happen but easily could have.
“Did Riaan suggest that you bond with the prince?” Finn asks, his jaw ticking.
“Yes, but I was hurt, and of course I can’t do that without risking my mission where Jas is concerned.”
Finn’s brows shoot up. “Interesting. That’s a different tune from the one you were singing before about never wanting the bond.”
“Of course,” Kane mutters. “The golden prince has her right where he wants her.”
I bristle. “Screw you, Kane.” I turn my glare on Finn. “Why do you care so much about who I bond with . . . or if I ever do?”
“Because, Princess,” he says, and the bite of anger in his voice stuns me, “bonds have consequences. If you think for one minute—” He’s cut off by the front door slamming.
Pretha rushes into the kitchen, Lark in her arms. The child has blood running down one leg, and she sobs as her mom slides her onto the counter.
Finn puts a hand on his niece’s shoulder. “It’s okay. It’s just a scrape. It’ll heal.” Lark nods but lets out another hiccupping sob. Finn wets a towel and gently presses it to the girl’s knee.
Pretha sees me watching and folds her arms. “She doesn’t heal.”
“She’ll heal just fine,” Finn says over a shoulder. He turns back to his niece and gives her a reassuring smile. “Won’t you?”
The child nods and wipes her tears, clearly determined to put on a brave face for him.
“She heals like a mortal,” Pretha says, spitting the word mortal from her tongue like it has a foul taste.
Finn shoots her a warning glare before returning his attention to Lark’s cut. “Does that hurt?”
“It could get infected—like yours did—and what then, Finn?” Pretha says. I’ve never heard her sound so panicked.
“Abriella, do me a favor and take Pretha outside while I get Lark cleaned up?”
I want to stay and see why a banged-up knee is making Pretha so sure that her immortal child’s life is in danger, but I understand why Finn needs me to take her away. With every panicked word out of Pretha’s mouth, Lark’s face grows more stricken and more tears fall.
“Come on,” I say, gently taking her arm.
“I’m fine,” Pretha says. She lifts her chin, and I can tell that her need for bravery in this moment is greater than Lark’s. “I’ll calm down.”
“Take a walk,” Finn says, his eyes on Lark’s knee. “I’ve got this. It’s just a bleeder. Not that deep at all.”
I tug on my friend’s hand and lead her out the back door. She follows reluctantly, but not without throwing a final desperate glance at her daughter before we leave.
“Why?” I ask Pretha when we’re alone on the patio. She knows what I mean—why does Lark heal like a mortal?
“It’s . . . like a disease. She’s been this way her whole life.” As someone who’s always healed quickly and easily, it must be terrifying to see her daughter heal as slowly as a mortal.
“Is there a cure?”
She barks out a laugh, but there’s no humor in her eyes as she swipes at her tears. “What do you think we’re doing here?”
I shake my head. I guess I don’t know. I thought they were searching for King Oberon’s crown so Finn could take his rightful spot on the throne. What does that have to do with Lark? But then I see the obvious connection, and my heart sinks. “This disease—Finn has it too, doesn’t he?”