CHAPTER TWO — THE KING WHO WOULDN'T LET GO

POV: RHAZEK

I could not let go of her wrist.

I knew I should. I knew every guard in the square was watching, that Lord Fen was still face-down in the dirt, that the creatures beyond the broken wards were regrouping in the trees. 

I knew the smart thing, the kingly thing, was to release her, step back, and handle this the way I handled everything else.

But her skin was warm under my fingers, and the mark beneath her cuff was pulsing against my palm like a second heartbeat, and something in my chest had locked onto her and refused to let go.

"Let me go," she said.

"No." I refused 

"I do not owe you an answer." She stated

"You owe me the truth." My voice came out lower than I meant it to. "You broke the wards protecting my kingdom. You unleashed creatures that have not crossed the border in three generations. You expect me to let you walk away without an explanation?"

She lifted her stubborn, defiant, infuriating chin.

"I was selling herbs," she said. "I was counting coppers. Your soldiers dragged a sorcerer into the square and beat him half to death in front of everyone. Whatever happened after that is not my fault."

"You expect me to believe that." I growled 

"I do not care what you believe." She snapped 

And then she looked at me. Properly looked at me. Not with fear, not with the groveling deference I had grown so tired of. She looked at me like I was a problem she intended to solve, and something inside my chest cracked open.

The pull hit me like a wave.

I had felt it in the square when my beast had bowed to her. I felt it when I grabbed her wrist but this was different. 

This was worse, this was the ground dropping out from under me and every breath in my body leaving at once. She felt it too. I saw her eyes widen, I saw her chest stop moving, I saw the exact moment she understood that whatever was happening between us was not something either of us had asked for.

Neither of us breathed or moved.

The mark under her cuff flared, bright enough to glow through the leather, and my beast surged inside me, roaring, clawing, demanding something I could not name and could not give.

I dropped her wrist like it had burned me.

She stumbled back against the well and stared at me. Her lips were parted, her face was flushed and I was so furious I could barely see straight.

Furious at her, myself, that a stranger, a borderlands healer with mud on her boots and no title and no power, could do to me in one afternoon what no one had done in thirty years.

"What did you do to me?" I demanded.

Her eyes flashed. "What did I do to you? You are the one who grabbed me. You are the one who pushed me against a wall and demanded answers I do not have."

"You know something." I insisted

"I know nothing." She replied 

"Your mark responded to mine, your power broke my wards. There is a connection between us, and I will not rest until I understand what it is." I stated

She shook her head, and I saw her throat work as she swallowed. She was trying not to cry but she was failing.

"I have had this mark since I was born," she said, and her voice cracked on the last word. "It has never done anything except itch when storms come, I do not know what it means, I do not know why it reacted to you and I do not know why that old man called me the last heir of something I have never heard of. I am a healer, I patch wounds, I sell tonics and I am nothing."

"You are not nothing," I said.

The words came out before I could stop them. Hard, almost angry as if I hated admitting it.

She stared at me. I stared back.

Then I turned away, because if I looked at her one more second I was going to do something I could not take back.

"Take her to Blackthorn Palace," I ordered.

Her sharp intake of breath was loud enough to hear across the square.

"No," she said. "No, I am not going anywhere with you."

I frowned "You do not have a choice."

"Everyone has a choice." She insisted 

"Not in my kingdom." I whispered 

One of my guards grabbed her by the arm. I heard it before I saw it, the soft gasp of pain, the scrape of his glove against her sleeve. He was rough with her. Unnecessarily rough and something in me snapped before I could think.

I crossed the square in two strides and closed my hand around his wrist. I heard the bones creak and I felt him go rigid with pain.

"If you touch her like that again," I said, and I kept my voice low, because quiet was always worse, "I will break every bone in your hand. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Your Majesty." His voice shook. "I understand."

I released him. He stumbled back, cradling his hand against his chest. The other guards were staring at me like they had never seen me before, and maybe they had not. I had never threatened one of my own men over a prisoner.

The healer was staring at me too. Her expression was not gratitude and not fear, it was something sharper than either. Something almost like recognition.

"Why did you do that?" she asked.

"I do not tolerate unnecessary cruelty." I replied 

"You are the one who ordered me taken to your palace." She scoffed 

"That is different." I muttered 

"How?" She asked

"Because I am the king," I said, and the words tasted like ash. "And you are my responsibility now, whether you like it or not."

I turned away before she could answer. I could not look at her. I could not stand the way my chest tightened when she looked at me, the way my beast howled inside me, demanding I stay close to her, demanding I protect her, demanding I keep her.

"Bring her to the carriage," I said. "She rides with me."

"My king," one of the guards began, hesitant. "Is that wise? The prisoner is dangerous. The magic she unleashed..."

"She rides with me." I did not raise my voice. I did not have to. "And if anyone touches her again without my permission, they answer to me personally. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Your Majesty." The guard replied 

She did not speak as they led her to the carriage. She walked with her head high and her eyes fixed on the horizon, and I watched her the whole way, and I hated myself for watching.

I climbed in after her. The door closed and the carriage lurched forward.

The silence inside was unbearable.

She sat across from me with her hands folded in her lap, staring out the window. She did not look at me, did not speak, did not move but I could feel her. I could feel the warmth of her body across the small space between us, could hear the soft rhythm of her breathing, could smell the smoke and herbs and something sweeter underneath that was just her.

I closed my eyes and then I heard it.

Keep her.

My beast. The monster that had lived inside me since I was a boy. The curse that had made me king and the power that had made me feared.

Keep her, it said again. She is ours.

I opened my eyes and looked at the woman across from me.

She was not beautiful, was not soft and was not anything I had ever wanted but she was mine.

I could feel it in my bones. I could feel it in the mark on her wrist and the pull in my chest and the way my beast had bowed to her in the square like she was something sacred.

And I knew, with a certainty that terrified me, that I would not be able to let her go.

Not tonight or tomorrow or ever.