His hand holding my head moved to cup around the side of my face. His touch was soothing, and it made me feel safe, even though I was so hurt.
“How long have I been out?” I asked.
“Five days,” he answered. I could pick up on several different emotions hidden beneath his words, his sadness, his worry, and his fear. There was something else though. There was also love. I swallowed, remembering that I bore his mark on my neck, but I had yet to mark him in the same way.
Tenderly, he pressed a thumb to the side of my head, and I winced. “Your skull wasn’t broken or fractured from what I can tell, but you’ve got quite the bruise on this side of your head,” he added.
“Does it make me look fierce?” I asked.
“It does. I’m already quaking in my boots just from the sight of you,” he answered lightly, and I laughed softly in return.
“When you’re ready, I’d like to change your bandages and check on how the wound on your chest is healing,” he murmured.
“Let’s get me all cleaned up then, I suppose,” I replied. He nodded and carefully propped me up into a seated position with a bundle of soft pillows. I tried to hide the grunts of pain as he moved me, but he caught them all. I could tell the way his jaw tensed with restrained anger, but I knew it wasn’t directed at me. It was intended for the person who did this to me.
Aric was an alpha and a decidedly strong one at that. He wouldn’t be able to quell the instincts within him demanding that he protect me. He would want to take out his anger on Thranar and ensure that he could never hurt me again.
I watched him as he gently unwound the fabric covering my chest. His movements were careful, full of adoration and concern as he made sure that he didn’t go too quickly and hurt me. When he unwound enough so that he was just approaching the wound at my chest, he went even more slowly and dribbled a bit of water on the bandage so that it didn’t stick to my skin.
He hummed in satisfaction.
“It’s still quite raw, but you’re healing well. It was deep enough that I had to stitch you together,” he murmured.
“Will it leave a scar?” I asked, gazing down at my bare torso.
“It likely will, my queen,” he replied softly, lifting his gaze to meet mine. His expression was one of sorrow and I quickly shook my head, wanting to ensure that he didn’t worry about such a thing.
“It gives me great pleasure to bear that scar. It’ll make me remember that even the great King Thranar wasn’t strong enough to kill me,” I responded with a grin. He smiled in return.
“I’m glad,” he said quietly.
I sighed, pressing the back of my scalp against the pillow. The moment Thranar had lifted his arm to strike against me, I had known it was the start of something far bigger. King Thranar’s actions would demand justice in my people’s eyes. They would expect me to go after him and if I didn’t, they would likely go in my honor in search of vengeance for their queen.
My small acts of conquest were now very likely to result in war between Valgertha and Ravenrath and I would be the one expected to lead them.
“A silver coin for your thoughts?” Aric asked, his eyes searching my face for any clue as to what was going on inside my mind.
“Valgertha is going to have to force Thranar to answer for what he’s done,” I murmured.
He swallowed and I watched his gaze shift toward the wall and back to me. I narrowed my eyes and tried to
figure out what he was thinking myself.
“The Alpha Brotherhood is concerned it may come to that as well,” he began carefully.
“You have communicated with them?” I asked.
“Yes. The Ghost, our leader, came to see me while you were unconscious,” he sighed. “The Brotherhood has enemies, many of them in fact, but there is one in particular that we have been at war with for a very long time. That organization has opposed us for several hundred years. They are a part of the Cult of the Blood Moon. You see, King Thranar isn’t only just the king of Ravenrath. He’s a very high-ranking member of the cult as well. His attack on you speaks to more than just the rivalry between kings and queens. It means the cult intends to claim Valgertha for themselves,” he explained.
I licked my lips. This was very heavy information indeed.
“This isn’t going to end with a peace treaty, is it?” I questioned, but I knew what the answer would be before I said it.
“I’m afraid not,” he responded, shaking his head.
I’d led my people into battle before and earned to right to direct warriors on the field even before I’d taken the throne. Now as queen, I was the determining factor that would decide when and where we went to war, or even at all. The weight of that power was settling heavily on me. People would live and die at my word. Cities and towns may fall or be burned to the ground because of my decisions.
What I did next would determine my legacy.