“I think you like me, Rowena.”
Rowena frowned. “Well, yes, you are my lady. I remember holding you in my arms on the day of your birth. No amount of grumbling or childish outbursts will erase that.”
“Childish outbursts,” Brea grumbled. No, she didn’t grumble. Rowena wasn’t right. Except, she sort of was.
“Come, Lady Brea.” Rowena put a hand on her arm and guided her into the hall. “You need to bathe.”
“Are you telling me I stink?”
“Yes.”
A laugh burst out of Brea, a foreign sound after such a lousy day, but it felt good. She followed the strange maid without another protest.
Brea jerked awake, and cool water sloshed across the floor. She’d fallen asleep in her bath after telling Rowena to give her some peace. The woman tried to bathe her. Brea would never get used to all the nudity the fae thought nothing of.
The same thud that woke her sounded at the door again. Her brow creased. She stood, letting rivulets of water stream down her weary body. Every muscle ached as she stepped from the tub onto the cold stone floor, a puddle forming at her feet. She reached for the bath sheet and dried herself before shrugging on a silk robe. Twisting her hair in the towel, she approached the door and gripped the handle.
She wished Rowena was here to tell whoever it was to go away. How long had she been asleep? Moonlight filtered through the window, casting shadows across her bed.
Pulling the door open, she jumped back as a body rolled in. Someone had been slumped against the door. It only took her a moment to realize it was Lochlan staring up at her with hazy eyes.
“Loch.” She shut the door and crouched down at his side. “What on earth are you doing here?”
“Had to…” He sucked in a breath. “Talk.” His eyes slid shut. “What’s wrong with… hair?”
“Huh?” Oh. She touched the towel on her head, suddenly self-conscious. “Come on, douchey Loch. Let’s get you up.”
He let her wrap his arm around her neck. “I needed to find you.”
Her lips curved up as she heaved him to his feet. “Well, you did. In my room. In the middle of the night. Good job.” Stumbling under his weight, she crashed into the bed. He fell onto it, and she sighed. “Good a place as any.” Noting his bare feet, she shook her head. Why would Lochlan escape from the healer and come to her rooms in the middle of the night? She highly doubted the healer let him go.
Straining, she pushed his legs onto the bed and checked his bandages to make sure they were still in place. “You shouldn’t be here,” she whispered.
His eyes slid open and fixed on her. “Brea.” He tried to lift a hand, but it fell back to the bed. “It’s Myles.”
Her entire body froze. What could Myles possibly have to do with this place? With where Lochlan had been? She hovered over Lochlan, willing him not to say the words she feared more than anything.
But that was the thing about wishes. Whether they were made in a sparkling fountain with gleaming coins or in the darkness of the night with nothing but desperation, they rarely came true.
A wish was nothing more than a lie one told themselves.
Myles was okay.
He’d remain safe and alive.
She didn’t need him.
All wishes. All lies.
Lochlan’s voice cracked on his next words. “He’s in Fargelsi. Queen Regan has him.”
And all those wishes shattered, slicing through her heart like the fragile glass giving false protection to their hope.
5
Lochlan
Pain was part of this life. Lochlan experienced his fair share. He’d seen queens crumble and families torn apart. He’d felt the sharp tip of a blade pierce his flesh many times.
He’d lost Alona.
But the agony he saw, the pain he caused with his words, was unlike anything he could remember.
This human girl was strong, stronger than anyone else he knew. She’d been taken from her own world and thrown into a battle between queens, yet it was this news that finally broke her.
Her shoulders hunched forward almost as if she caved in on herself. Tears hung in her long lashes but didn’t fall.
“How,” she whispered, her breath shaking. “How did that woman get to Myles?” Anger sparked in her eyes, and she clenched her jaw. “Griff.” She slid from the bed and paced the length of the room. She yanked the towel off her head and damp hair tumbled over her shoulders.
“Brea.” He forced the word out past the pain in his chest. He still wasn’t quite sure what happened or how he’d ended up back at the palace, only that Finn saved him.
But he did remember the weeks before their battle with the men from Iskalt.
Brea continued pacing and talking to herself. “He’s dead. Griffin O’Shea doesn’t deserve to be in the same world as Myles, let alone the same palace.” She froze. “It’s all my fault. He’s here because of me.”
“Brea.” Lochlan tried and failed to raise his voice as a shiver wracked his body and he started convulsing. Pain shot through him, and the room faded away until all he could hear was “No, no, no.”
Warm hands touched his bare chest above the bandage, and the feel of her grounded him, keeping him from sinking into the darkness.
“You’re freezing cold.” She yanked the blankets from under him and folded him in a warm cocoon. Still, he continued to shake. “Oh, for freak’s sake.”
Lochlan didn’t know what she was doing until a warm body pressed up against his under the blankets. Her arms wound around him.
He wanted to protest, to push her away, but for the first time in hours, he started to warm.
“I saw this in a movie,” she whispered, her breath hot on his shoulder.
Not even her wet hair bothered him as he let himself relax in the comfort. When was the last time someone hugged him? It was probably Alona, but that would have been ages ago.
He’d forgotten how nice it felt to have a caring touch.
But Brea didn’t care about him, she couldn’t. How could this girl learn to trust anyone in this world when the man she’d fallen for turned out to be nothing more than a manipulative liar?
They wanted the best for her. Lochlan, Finn, the queens. Everyone in Eldur would embrace Brea if she let them. But he could see it in her eyes every time she looked at him. She wouldn’t believe anyone so easily again.
“Do you feel better?” she asked.
He couldn’t speak.
“I kind of hope you forget this.”
Of course she did. They weren’t friends. He’d imagined her worry when he first returned injured.
“When I was in Fargelsi,” she went on. “I refused to talk to Griff about Myles. It irritated him, but maybe some subconscious part of me knew. Myles is good, ya know?” Her voice quivered. “He doesn’t deserve to be here. His family must be so worried. They love him. Unlike…”
She stopped talking, and he wanted more than anything for her to go on. He’d learned bits and pieces of how she grew up from checking in on her over the years at the queen’s request. The humans who raised her didn’t deserve such a strong, resilient daughter.