I blink several times,feeling groggy. When my vision clears, I see Galinor.
He wraps a strip of cloth around my leg.
“Are you finished?” I ask, my voice wobbling.
“Just about.”
Pika sleeps, no longer watching us. Danver is once again cuddled up to the glasseln. I don’t hear voices outside, but we continue to roll down the rutted road.
“It’s not many hours to the Lenrook border,” Galinor says. “Once we cross, we’ll make camp.”
I struggle to sit, and as I do, I notice Galinor created a pillow out of blankets for my head. I watch him finish with the bandage, his hands careful and sure.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
He meets my eyes and gently pulls my bunched skirt down. That stretch of leg is far more than Dimitri ever saw, but Galinor doesn’t make me feel uncomfortable like Dimitri did. The prince treats me as if I’m something rare and valuable—the way Father handled the changeling stone.
The thought of the troublesome crystal irritates me. I should have known it would only bring trouble.
“I hated that awful stone,” I say.
Galinor’s eyebrows shoot up, surprised. “The changeling stone?”
I nod and scoot up so I’m sitting with one leg crossed and the other still extended. “Father would never let me touch it,” I admit. “When I was young, I’d slip into my parents’ room at night to sneak it away and play with it.”
Galinor moves so he’s sitting next to me. He wraps his arm around me, and I settle against his shoulder.
“I feel awful about it now, but it would bring me pleasure to use it and return it to him without anyone noticing. It was as if I had to prove that I could be careful with it, even if he never knew.”
Galinor doesn’t say anything but waits for me to continue.
“I had no idea why he was so protective of it, why he was so obsessed.” I turn to face Galinor. “It was just athing, you understand? A possession. I hated the way he loved it.” I look away. “Why didn’t he tell me, do you think?”
Galinor runs his hand down my hair. “He probably didn’t want you to know. When you were young, it might have scared you, and now that you’re grown, he may have thought you would have been disgusted.”
“I wouldn’t have been.” I turn back. “I love him. I know that I haven’t shown it—and I made a truly terrible decision when I took the stone—but I do. I don’t know if he’ll ever forgive me.”
Instead of answering, Galinor leans his cheek against the top of my head. “You need to rest.”
I appreciate that he doesn’t answer just to make me feel better. He doesn’t pretend to know my father; he doesn’t pretend to know if he’ll forgive me.
“What do you think he changes into?” I murmur.
Now that the excitement is over, I’m getting drowsy.
“A gnome, most likely.”
I smile, starting to feel fuzzy and warm, and I let myself drift. Then, quite suddenly, I notice the strange taste in my mouth.
I shake off the sleepy sensation and look up, horrified. “Galinor, did you give me a sleeping draught?”
Galinor’s forehead knits. “Rosie had some tea. We stopped when you passed out, and she gave you a dose.” He strokes my hair. “Is that a problem? We thought it would help with the pain.”
The panic I’m feeling is irrational. This is Galinor, not Dimitri, but still, I feel like I can’t breathe. “Please, don’t leave.”
How ridiculous, I sound like a scared child.
Understanding dawns on Galinor’s face, and he holds me tighter. “I’m not going anywhere.”
