As the Crown Prince, he couldn’t exactly be seen carrying a traitorous guard through the halls—especially one who was supposed to be dead—so he’d had to risk trusting part of the truth to Hayes, but it’d been worth it.

Hayes, of course, hadn’t batted an eye, happily marching into the cell to throw an unconscious Gibson over his shoulder. He could be a loose cannon at times, such as when he’d snapped and attacked Vera that day, but he was loyal in the ways that counted.

As a bastard born nobody raised in a brothel, Hayes was well aware that being a member of Eithan’s guard was the most power he’d ever have. So, although Eithan would never confide in the man, he at least trusted him enough to keep his mouth shut about Gibson.

Feeling impatient, he picked up his pace as much as his battered body allowed and descended the final staircase leading to the infirmary. He counted each step to distract himself from the stabs of pain radiating up his legs, and rounded the corner, nearly barreling into a young woman racing up them.

She squeaked, backtracking, and tripping down a step before plastering herself to the wall. He noticed the instant her eyes saw past his appearance and took note of who he was.

Her blue eyes widened, and she ducked her head, apologizing profusely. By the way her legs shook, she looked seconds away from falling to her knees.

It was a sight he’d have normally indulged in. Trading a few smiles with a pretty woman followed by a night of gaping mouths, spread thighs, and an orchestra of moans. It wouldn’t be the first time, or even the twentieth. He had a reputation for a reason.

But he felt no such pull now, pretty though she was. He smiled and tipped his head, turning to continue down without a second thought. He could certainly use a night of pleasure and release, but not from any woman here.

He was a betrothed man, after all.

Chapter 4

JAREN

He whipped his head back, confusion swirling as warning signals blared in his head. What had he done?

Ignoring the lingering pull to grab Veralie and guard against some unseen threat, he widened his stance and spoke slowly. “What I’ve done is found my mate. Alive.”

The shock he’d expected, the delayed joy and excitement, never came. Jaeros just squeezed his eyes shut as if in pain, and pressed his hand to his chest, whispering, “You damn fool.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Jaren snapped, moving to stand between them. He wasn’t sure if his father had been speaking to him or himself, but either way something was very wrong.

Jaeros hadn’t uttered a word about Veralie other than to call her Vaneara. He hadn’t seemed even remotely surprised at seeing her, other than seeing her there. It didn’t make any sense. There was no way his father actually thought she was the late queen. He was just in shock.