Brannick stepped back, baring his teeth. “Do not touch me.”
Jerking her hand away, she immediately clapped it against her mouth. “Right.” She shook her head, but her eyes landed on the scratch again. The sizzling had died away. “Should I go get Kaia, or…” It was only a tiny scratch. Why had the skin around the wound turned red like an infection? It shouldn’t have been so bad.
The prince waved her off before reaching into his pocket. “I will be fine. I knew this might happen.”
That didn’t answer any of her questions. But the prince was too busy smothering the scratch with a gritty green ointment. He pulled a white feather from his pocket next. It fluttered as he brushed the end of it over the ointment and scratch.
Elora opened her mouth to ask how the feather would help. The moment her lips parted, the prince shot her a glare.
She turned on her heel, squeezing her hilt even tighter than before. If she couldn’t ask questions, what was she supposed to do? Her feet carried her over to Blaz before another thought could enter her mind. She knelt at his side, running her fingers through his soft fur.
At least the wolf’s eyes shimmered with as much concern as she felt. On the other hand, Brannick only acted inconvenienced. What did he mean I knew this might happen? How could he know her sword might make his skin sizzle?
Blaz buried his head in her lap while they both watched the prince work. After brushing the feather over his wound, he muttered words under his breath. When that was finished, he pulled a white cloth from his pocket to wipe away the gritty ointment.
Once wiped away, Brannick’s skin looked good as new. His light brown skin showed no hint of the scratch, as if it had never existed. His face still twisted in pain as he shoved the cloth and other items back into his pocket.
Maybe the injury had been dealt with, but she wasn’t about to lift her sword yet. “What happened? Why did—”
Brannick raised a hand into the air, stopping her mid-sentence.
She huffed and glanced down at her lap instead. While scratching behind Blaz’s ears, another question came to mind. This one, the prince might answer. “Why did Ansel even try to defeat my father in a sword fight anyway? I’ve never seen any fae use a sword.”
Rubbing a thumb over the shoulder that had been scratched, the prince let out a slow breath. “The fae in the Court of Mistmount use swords and daggers as weapons.”
“And Ansel is from Mistmount?”
“Yes.” Brannick’s eyes fell closed as he rubbed deeper into his shoulder.
She chewed on her bottom lip as he kneaded the area. In her years of sword training, she had sustained many mild injuries and even a few serious ones. But none of them ever made her skin sizzle with steam.
Twirling a finger around a clump of Blaz’s fur, she glanced up at the prince again. “Why did that shard kill King Huron? You said it would only work if a fae offered it.”
Brannick winced as he dropped his hand to his side. “I did offer the shard to King Huron. I held it out and told him to hurt me the way he supposed I intended to hurt others.”
Her gut twisted every time the prince gave another wince. “And that counts? Just by holding it out to him, that counted as offering it to him?”
Breathing out slowly, Brannick nodded.
Her eyes found the wolf again. “But that means the shard wouldn’t have injured you even if King Huron pierced you with it. Because he never offered the shard to you.”
Brannick’s breaths came out evenly now. He shook out his shoulders, showing off his impressive muscles once again. “I offered King Huron the shard and told him to use it against me. By doing so, I essentially offered it to myself. Faerie rules are complicated.” He chuckled to himself. “And they are not always consistent.”
At some point, her hands had left Blaz’s fur. Now they played with a piece of her own hair while her mouth dropped slightly. His stupid eyes had caught her attention again. No matter how she tried, she couldn’t look away.
When he glanced toward her, a grin fell across his lips. He knew exactly the effect he was having. Even more infuriating, he liked it.
Her mouth clamped shut as she jerked her head away. Heat speckled across her cheeks, burning hot under her skin. He could probably see it, but she tried to hide it by patting Blaz’s head and getting to her feet.
By the time she stood again, at least some of the heat had cooled.
He plucked his sword from the ground and twirled it in a circle. “Shall we continue?”
In moments like these, Elora was eternally grateful for how her mother had worked so hard to teach her how to appear dignified. Rolling her shoulders back, Elora raised her own sword with the grace of a delicate harpist. “Yes. This time, we won’t use a pre-planned sequence as we did before. Just use what you have learned and try to block my blows.”
She didn’t mention that she’d go a lot easier on him this time. She didn’t want any more steam sizzling off another scratch.
He threw the first strike. Her arm tensed as she blocked his blade. The tip jabbed toward his heart, but even if he didn’t stop it, her sword was too far away to actually touch him. Still, he clashed his blade against hers, causing them both to swing toward the ground.
The victory sent a light into his eyes. They pulsed between color and colorless. He stepped forward with another blow.
Not wanting to injure him again, she took two steps back. Even when her sword swung, she stepped backward once again.
A wicked grin curled on his lips. He jabbed his own sword at her heart now. Though she blocked the blow, she paired it with another two steps back.
But he kept moving forward, taking advantage of the ground he gained. Soon, her backward steps pressed her against the wall of the armory.
His smile grew as he held his sword across her neck. He held it far enough away to keep her from danger, but it still pinned her against the wall. It wasn’t lost on her that she had pinned him against a wall in exactly the same position not so long ago.
He raised one eyebrow, perhaps about to reference that fateful day.
Instead, she gave a pointed glance straight into his eyes. “You’ll find any excuse to be close to me, won’t you?”
For a moment, he froze as the words sank in. With a sharp intake of breath, he took a single step back. His sword clattered to the ground. “No. Why would I want to be close to you?”
She couldn’t help the smirk that broke onto her face. “I know you care for me. What did your bargain with Alessandra say? You promised you would never touch another creature with romantic feelings in your heart. If you didn’t care for me, you’d be able to touch me.”
He flashed his teeth. When he stepped close to her again, she held her ground. He raised one hand, turning it so his knuckles were only a breath away from her cheek. “Perhaps you are not as dangerous to me as you believe.”
His hand hovered in place, near enough to her skin that she could feel it. She stared at him, but he stared at his hand. Hovering. Deciding.
If his other arm hadn’t been touching the wall on her other side, she would have stepped away. But he had her pinned in place. Exactly like he wanted.
His nose wrinkled as he looked into her eyes. She’d never seen hate so perfectly etched into someone’s expression. Only then did his knuckles trail down her cheek, touching her.