“Second-degree burns along the forearm,” Kestra announced to her assistant. “We’ll need the cooling salve and sterile wrappings. And check that ankle—there’s significant swelling.”
Faith’s eyes found his across the small space. Even dulled by pain and smoke inhalation, they held that sharp intelligence he’d come to crave.
“How bad is it?” she asked, directing the question to him rather than the healers.
“Nothing that won’t heal,” he said firmly, though his tiger growled at seeing her hurt. “You’re stronger than you know.”
Kestra worked with swift competence, applying a translucent salve that seemed to ease the angry redness of the burns. Faith’s face relaxed slightly as the cool medication took effect, her breathing becoming less labored.
“The ankle needs immobilization,” the healer announced after a careful examination. “Severe strain, but no breaks. She was fortunate.”
Fortunate.
Kovrak nearly laughed at the word. There was nothing fortunate about the thought of her crumpled beneath burning debris. But he understood what the healer meant—it could have been so much worse.
As Kestra fitted an oxygen mask over Faith’s face, Kovrak felt his throat constrict. The clear plastic made her look even more fragile, more human in a world of predators. Her eyes fluttered closed as the pure oxygen worked to clear the smoke from her lungs.
He moved closer, his hand stroking her hair with reverent care. “Rest now,” he murmured, his voice pitched low. “I’m not going anywhere.”
The healers bustled around them, checking monitors and adjusting equipment, but Kovrak’s attention never wavered from the woman on the bed. His beautiful, brave mate. Thewoman who’d run toward danger to save a child, who’d organized his people’s escape with the same calm efficiency she brought to her baking. She was everything he’d never known he needed, and seeing her like this—pale and injured but alive—made something primitive and possessive unfurl in his chest.
His tiger settled slightly, recognizing that she was safe now. But the beast remained alert, watching, ready to defend what belonged to them both.
When Faith’s breathing finally settled into the deep, even rhythm of sleep, the oxygen mask fogging lightly with each exhale, Kovrak felt the protective walls he’d built around his emotions begin to crack. The fear that had gripped him since seeing her injured in the back of the transport slowly ebbed, leaving space for something far more dangerous to take root.
Rage.
Raw fury that made his tiger restless beneath his skin. She could have died today. While he’d been locked in savage combat with those rogue wolves, teeth and claws tearing through enemy fur, his mate had been pinned beneath fire and falling debris. If Merral and Liora had arrived even moments later, he might have been cradling a lifeless body instead of watching the steady rise and fall of her chest.
His hands clenched into fists as his mind replayed the sequence with ruthless clarity. The fight with Varrek had been too convenient, too perfectly timed to distract him from the real threat. The wolves had struck with military precision, driving panic through the crowd while fires bloomed simultaneously across multiple vendor stalls.
Kovrak had no concrete proof, but his instincts screamed the truth. Varrek had orchestrated this attack. He’d been a thorn in Kovrak’s side for the past twenty years, always searching for any signs of weakness in Kovrak. Now, as Faith’s presence and theirgrowing mate bond strengthened Kovrak and his claim to lasting leadership, Varrek was getting increasingly desperate.
The soft whisper of the chamber doors drew his attention. Merral entered first, his usually immaculate appearance disheveled, soot streaking his white hair. Behind him came Liora, her bright eyes immediately seeking Faith’s form on the bed, followed by Thalen and Elder Corwin, both bearing the grim expressions of men who’d witnessed too much violence and destruction in one afternoon.
Their gazes moved to Faith first, and Kovrak watched relief ease the tension from their shoulders when they saw her stabilized and breathing peacefully.
“She saved dozens of lives today,” Liora whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I watched her organize the evacuation route and redirect people away from the worst of the flames.”
Elder Corwin nodded slowly. “She created safe passage for the elderly and children when panic could have trampled them. Without her quick thinking...” He let the words hang unfinished.
Merral stepped closer to the bed, studying Faith’s peaceful expression. “I saw her rush toward that trapped child. She didn’t hesitate, didn’t calculate the risk to herself.” His ice-blue eyes met Kovrak’s gaze. “That kind of courage cannot be taught. It comes from the soul.”
“If she chooses you and the crown,” Elder Corwin said quietly, “she will wear it with honor. The pride has seen her true nature today.”
Kovrak absorbed their words not as flattery but as confirmation of what he already knew. His people had witnessed Faith’s strength, her instinctive protectiveness, her refusal to abandon those in need. She had proven herself in fire and smoke, earning their respect through deed rather than declaration.
“Thank you,” he said simply, his voice rough with emotion he couldn’t quite contain. “Your words mean more than you know.”
When the brief conversation ended, Kovrak rose from his chair with fluid grace, every line of his body radiating quiet authority. “I need privacy now,” he said, his tone courteous but immovable. “I will not be attending the next three days of festival proceedings. My place is with her while she recovers.”
He expected challenge or an argument about duty and tradition. Instead, he found only understanding in their eyes. They recognized the depth of a mate bond, even one not yet formally sealed.
After the room emptied and silence settled around them like a protective cocoon, Kovrak returned to Faith’s bedside. He took her uninjured hand carefully between both of his, marveling at how small and delicate her fingers looked against his battle-scarred palms. The weight of unspoken timelines pressed heavily on his shoulders—five days remained until tradition demanded he mark her and declare his intent publicly.
But watching her sleep, seeing the faint lines of pain that lingered even in unconsciousness, he realized something fundamental had shifted. Her healing mattered more than any crown or ceremony. She mattered more than anything else in his world.
Hours passed as Kovrak watched her sleep peacefully, and by nightfall, the healers reported significant improvement. Her oxygen levels had stabilized, the angry redness of her burns had faded to a manageable pink, and her strength was slowly returning. When Kestra suggested Faith rest in her assigned suite, Kovrak dismissed the recommendation with quiet finality.