A smoky scent wafted in that I knew wasn’t from the fire. I thrust my arm back into my sleeve and turned to find Grae standing half in the doorway, his arm frozen, lifting the tent flap. His eyes brimmed with rage as he stared at my exposed skin. He tracked every bruise and my heart hammered in my ears, my skin dimpling with gooseflesh everywhere his eyes landed.
“I should’ve killed them more slowly,” he said, somehow fiercely quiet, stepping into the space and closing the tent flap behind him.
He walked over to his pack against the far fabric wall and pulled out a brown glass vial. “This will help with the wounds for now, but you need to shift to fully heal.”
“I know that, Grae. But I can’t shift here, not with so many people around.” My eyes darted to the tent flaps. If they spotted a Gold Wolf, they’d either try to kill me, sell off the information of our whereabouts, or at the very least, kick us out.
“Just do it in the tent tonight. No one will know.”
“And you don’t think my wounds magically disappearing would tip them off?”
He shook his head in frustration. “Tomorrow night then, once we get further into Taigos,” Grae said, prowling over to me. I felt each step right in my core. “Until then, this’ll have to do. Sit.”
“I can do it myself.” I grabbed for the vial and Grae lifted it slightly higher.
I grimaced, unable to lift my arm above my head. The bruises down my back shouted their displeasure. He raised his eyebrows at me as if I’d just proved his point.
“Goddess, you are so bloody stubborn,” he said with a smile that belied the anger in his eyes. “You can’t even see where your bruises are.” He took another step, his chest brushing against mine as he stared down at me. “Please?”
I frowned at his please. Princes didn’t say please. They didn’t ask at all—they demanded. I knew he used it like a weapon to get me to acquiesce . . . but it worked.
“Fine.” I sat, wrapping my arms around my knees and pinning the front of my tunic in place as the laces loosened down my back.
He crouched beside me, uncorking the vial. Dabbing a thick liquid on his finger, he swiped it over my eyebrow. I hissed at the sting.
“Sorry,” Grae murmured, moving more slowly.
“No, you’re not.”
He chuckled. Grae had been right. I hadn’t even realized there was a cut over my eyebrow, the one on my chin hurting so much that I couldn’t focus anywhere else.
“Now your chin.” He said it like a warning and I braced for the pain.
His other hand reached out and threaded his fingers through mine, squeezing as he dabbed his finger along my chin. The sharp sting made me screw my eyes shut, inhaling a rough breath through my nose. I clenched my jaw harder, refusing to cry out in pain even if it meant cracking a tooth instead.
“I’m sorry,” Grae whispered again, blowing across my skin and drying the salve. The skitter of his breath on my face made my skin ripple.
“I’m fine,” I gasped out, trying to focus on his breath and not the endless burning.
“You don’t always have to be, little fox,” Grae whispered.
That name made my eyes snap open, finding Grae’s gaze inches from mine. That nickname had always made me feel like someone special. It brought me back to who we were to each other before all this. Before he was a crown prince, before he was my mate, he had simply been my friend, and we’d cared for each other. Whether lies and titles and time had irrevocably changed that, I didn’t know, but I knew that much to be true.
I knew that had been true, at least.
The look in his eyes made me break our gaze, as if he was feeling every one of my thoughts in his mind.
Grae hung his head. “Can I see your back?”
I gave a brief nod, dropping my head in my hands, careful not to touch my sticky wounds onto the fabric of my trousers. Grae adjusted his footing, moving toward my back. His rough calloused fingers made quick work of the strings that ran down my shoulder blades. Whatever Grae saw made him snarl.
“That bad?”
His fingers traced the stinging balm over what must have been a giant bruise along my spine. So that explained why it felt like I was being kicked by a horse every time I breathed.
Grae’s fingers lingered in the middle of my back. His warm forehead pressed against the cool skin of my neck.
“When you were attacked last night, I felt it.” His voice was a pained whisper. Without thought, I reached back and threaded my fingers though his hair, holding his head to me. “And again today . . . I thought I might not get to you in time.” His lips skimmed the skin along my neck. “It was a horrible, helpless feeling, Calla. To know you were in danger but not be able to find you.”