Page 79 of Heartbreak Prince

The prince turns around, his body spattered with the blood of the hunter. He lets the rock fall to the ground. “We’ll go. But first—”

He drags my knife out of the hunter’s corpse. It must be stuck in bone, because he has to plant one foot on the man’s chest to get enough leverage to yank it free. Then he marches around the side of the tent and comes back with both our satchels and one of the hunters’ bedrolls. He slings them onto his back, buckles my belt around his waist, and climbs onto the carpet. He moves me as carefully as he can, draping me across his lap.

“What about the other carpet?” I ask.

Our carpet’s tassels bristle. “What about it? Are you trying to replace me?”

“Of course not. It’s just that it’s a potential asset—”

“One we don’t need.” Severin rises, lifting us clear of the campsite and the trees. “Off we go, to Anyssir Castle where there are physicians, as well as allies loyal to the Crown.”

“We hope,” I mutter, letting my eyes drift shut.

Once I let myself relax, the desperate energy that has sustained me drains away. I exist in a strange liminal space that is neither waking nor sleeping, or perhaps both at indiscernible times. I know that we land a few times so the carpet can rest or so we can hide from possible enemies. I’m vaguely aware of Vawn fighting someone—or something? But I can’t pull myself out of the lethargy into which I’ve sunk. I’m freezing, and yet I’m soaked in sweat, and the thrumming agony in my body grows progressively worse. I shit myself once, but I barely realize that it happened, and then somehow I’m clean again, dressed in different clothing.

We’re flying, currents of cold air washing over the carpet. The air feels good on my face, but the rest of me is boiling underneath a blanket.

Locks of soft pink hair brush my cheek, and a voice murmurs brokenly to me. “Hold on, darling. Almost there. Don’t give up. I need you. I couldn’t have done any of this without you. I wouldn’t have had the courage, the wisdom, the force of will. Stay, beautiful. Stay.”

I try to open my eyes, but they’ve been pinned down, crushed beneath the infinite weight of sleep.

When I open them, there’s a ceiling above me. An ornate ceiling covered in raised flowers and leaves, all of it painted pristine white. White curtains flutter at the windows, like veils dancing in the clear light of day. The paneled walls are embellished with vivid paintings of pink and blue flowers.

Shielding my eyes from the light, I notice that my broken finger is splinted to the one next to it, and my cracked nails are shiny with repair glue.

The faint scent of lavender wafts to my nose as I push back the white sheets. My breasts, ribs, and stomach are wrapped in layers of bandages, and there’s a tightness along my side that makes me think of the time I had to get stitches after a particularly brutal training exercise.

Throwing off the sheets entirely, I survey the rest of the injuries on my body. The bruises have changed color—they’re receding, healing. Other than the bandages, the only thing I’m wearing is a pair of tiny black undershorts, snug and silky-soft, rather like Vawn’s.

Carefully, using my arms as much as possible to spare my stomach muscles, I sit up. My short hair feels oily, forming clumps on my head. I hate the sensation, and if I weren’t so worried about Vawn, I’d be solely focused on washing it.

I lower my feet to the floor.

“You’re awake,” says a voice under my toes, and I give a little shriek of panic, drawing my feet back into the bed. The movement makes my stomach hurt.

Severin ripples and rises from the floor. “Hello to you, too.”

“What were you doing down there like a normal rug?” I exclaim.

“The prince asked me to watch you. He has been here in this room since we arrived at Anyssir Castle two days ago, but he was smelling quite ripe and could barely keep his eyes open. Lady Kaenan convinced him to take a bath and sleep for a couple hours.”

“A bath,” I say eagerly. “I want a bath.”

“You shouldn’t get your wounds wet. Especially not the place where they cut you open to let the poisonous blood out. Yes, you were bleeding inside. Something ruptured when you were beaten. The only reason you survived the journey here is—” Severin stops talking abruptly and dips his top edge toward something behind me—his version of a bow. “Your Highness.”

I turn my head, and there is Vawn.

He’s a walking heartbreak, his beauty so striking it’s like visual violence. And he’s even more appealing to me with the partly healed cuts on his face and the scabs on his knuckles. I remember what the carpet said: that he fought like a beast and cursed the bounty hunters for harming me. When he beat that man into a pulp in the forest, it wasn’t vengeance for himself.

The prince gives me a brief, glorious smile, and then he’s glaring at the carpet. “What were you telling her, Severin? I thought we had an understanding.”

“I never agreed to keep it a secret,” the carpet retorts. “She should know.”

“I should know what?” I interject.

“Nothing.” Vawn shoots the carpet a warning look.

Severin tosses his tassels. “He doesn’t want you to know that he saved your life by—”