The healer settled her arm across her belly, then fetched rolls of fabric and began binding her shoulder and arm. “She needs to keep this immobilized for at least a week for the joint to heal. But otherwise, she should make a full recovery.”

It was all I could do to brace my hands on the table and let my head hang. The breath that had been lodged firmly in my throat finally escaped. “Thank you.”

When I looked up again, the lead healer’s maroon eyes were wider than when I had dropped into the tent with Assyria in my arms. “Of course, Halálhívó. I shall check in on her daily to ensure her continued improvement.”

“Does she need to remain here?” I asked.

He shook his head. “She can recover here or in your quarters, sir. Whichever you prefer.”

“My quarters,” I pronounced, moving around the table in preparation to lift her.

The lead healer produced a bottle from his pocket. “Give this to her the moment she wakes. Ensure she has more water as well. Some food might settle her stomach if she is nauseous.”

I accepted the potion, then studied my mate. Ever so slowly, I snaked an arm behind her knees, careful not to touch her bandaged calf, then did the same beneath her mid-back, trying to support both her head and injured shoulder as I lifted her. This time, her heart beat a slow, steady rhythm against my cacophonous one.

Adjusting her slightly, I left the tent without another word. Most of the camp had settled, given it was now the middle of the night, and all was quiet as I strode toward the black tents in the center. Rapp and the hounds perked up at my approach, seeming to relax once they saw Assyria still breathed.

“Thank the Fates,” Rapp said, rising from the stump he’d been sitting on.

I wasn’t sure a ‘thank you’ to those cunts was what I wanted to offer at the moment. This situation was exactly the issue I had with being attached to a female in the first place, let alone my fucking mate. They were a weakness, a liability, and a distraction.

“Open the flap,” I said, too exhausted to try to be nice.

He hurried ahead of me and pulled it back. Ducking inside, I placed Assyria on the bed with the same level of care I had lifted her. Then, I put the potion on the bedside table. “I need water and something to eat,” I told Rapp.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, disappearing.

Unable to help myself, I settled on the bed beside her, watching those dark lashes fan against her cheeks, studying the dip of her lips, the shape of her jaw, the way her clothes hugged her figure. Lifting her hand, I studied the ring too, wondering why it was so important to her, why she had put herself at risk to retrieve it, and why Rapp had risked revealing her identity to win it.

My friend returned with both food and drink a moment later. “What’s so important about this?” I asked him, indicating the dainty ring with the tiny garnet stone.

“It was her mother’s. She died in the plague, along with her whole family,” Rapp told me.

Something that felt a lot like sympathy surged from my gut. First, she’d told me of how Vagach had treated her. And now this.

What else didn’t I know about my mate?

I said nothing, placing her palm over her belly, mirroring the one trapped there by the healer’s dressing. “I’ll see you in the morning,” I said by way of dismissal.

“You’re staying here?” Rapp questioned.

I managed to tear my gaze away from Assyria long enough to glimpse the shock on his face. “I am.” My tone left no room for further questioning.

As much as I hated it, I had to.

Needed to.

Wanted to.

I smashed that thought into oblivion.

“Well with her near-death experience, that would make sense. The bond and all,” Rapp offered with a shrug.

“Exactly,” I replied coolly, returning my attention to my mate.

Rapp shifted on his feet like he wanted to say something else. “I’m glad Assyria is okay. I really like her, Rokath. I wish you’d see that you could too.”

Before I could respond, a whoosh of air brushed over us, signaling his departure. I waited another minute before carefully undressing Assyria, tucking a pillow under her head, and climbing onto the hard mattress beside her.

Watching. Waiting. Wondering.

Protecting Assyria from harm was one thing—at which I’d utterly failed that night. But caring for her? Liking her? That was an entirely different ask, one that I wasn’t sure I could manage, especially after what happened to me while I grew into an adult male. What happened while I trained at Fured. What happened to Thast.

My body calmed as I lay beside Assyria, and my eyes grew heavy as I reached for her stomach, resting my hand atop it just so I knew she was still alive. And then, before I was even conscious of it happening, sleep claimed me.

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42

Heat drew me from sleep, and I blinked wearily, eyes feeling like they weighed as much as a large boulder. My brain and my mouth were fuzzy, and I ached as if I’d ridden for two weeks, then gotten trampled by the horse I rode. I tried to sit upright, but a slice of pain caused me to cry out and stop. Looking down at myself, I noticed my right shoulder was trapped against my body in a bind of fabric.

Then, I realized I was naked.

Movement to my side caught my attention, and then a set of burgundy eyes framed by black ink stared back at me. For the first time, I caught a glimpse of a soul in them. “What–” I started, brows dipping together as I tried to piece together the last events from my memory.

I was out walking with Grem and Zeec, and then I took off, trying to make an escape. And then…

“Happened? You ran. And while you were running, you were bitten by a cobra. The deadliest one of them all, in fact,” Rokath rumbled, propping himself up on an elbow. The blanket slid down his torso, pooling at his waist, and his tattooed muscles bunched and flexed as he shifted.

He released a shuddering breath as he scanned my face. “You almost died.”

“I feel like I did,” I croaked.

He reached over me, and I stilled, waiting to see what sort of punishment he would offer me, as he threatened last night. Running from him seemed like it deserved far worse than a spanking like he’d given me for saying his name.

Instead, when he retreated, he held a small vial filled with a white liquid. “You need to drink this. Do you need help sitting up?”

All I could do was blink at him. Was he being nice to me? Was he taking care of me? Why wasn’t he raging at me? Had he been with me the entire time?

And if he had, why?

His eyes narrowed a fraction as if he sensed my suspicion of him. “Of course you do.”

Without waiting for any response or indication, he hauled me upright, though with a gentleness that surprised me. His ignoring of my lack of consent, however, was not. Then, he uncorked the bottle and held it to my lips. “Drink.”

Again, his command was expected. But with the way he looked at me, it felt more like a desperate request.

I let the interestingly sweet liquid fall over my tongue and down my throat. “Water,” I moaned when it was all gone.

Rokath wasted no time leaning across me and grabbing a glass from the bedside table. He held it to my lips, but I raised a shaky hand instead and grasped it. “I’ve got you,” he told me. I hesitated for a moment, unsure if I could trust that. Yet he’d chased me into the deadly desert to save me. I was alive because of him.

He didn’t let go as I lifted it to my lips and drank three greedy gulps.

Between whatever was in that vial and the water, my head was starting to clear. I recalled that I hadn’t eaten before I ran the previous evening, and on cue, my stomach rumbled.