you’d been back from the undersea a couple days, a hollow shell of yourself, pretending to be Balekin’s puppet. you needed to get to cardan. to talk to him— to warn him of things you weren’t able too while he was busy following Madoc’s advice to keep you away. so you’d snuck into the palace through sheer will, fighting your newfound weakness as you climbed the grassy hill, dropping into the royal chambers through an opening.

you walk to where he sleeps and press a hand over his mouth. he wakes, fighting against your grip. you press down hard enough that you can feel his teeth against your skin.

he grabs for your throat, and for a moment, you are scared that you’re not strong enough, that you’re training isn't good enough. then his body relaxes utterly, as though realizing who you are.

he shouldn't relax like that. "he sent me to kill you," you whisper against his ear.

a shiver goes through his body, and his hand to your waist, but instead of pushing you away, he pulls you into the bed with him, rolling your body across him onto the heavily embroidered coverlets.

your hand slips from his mouth, and you are unnerved to find yourself here, in the new High King's new bed—one you are still too human to lie in, beside someone who terrifies you the more you feel for him.

"Balekin and Orlagh are planning your murder," you say, flustered.

"yes," he says lazily. "so why did I wake up at all?" you are awkwardly conscious of his physicality, of the moment when he was half awake and pulled you against him. “because I am difficult to charm," you say.

that makes him give a soft laugh. he reaches out and touches your hair, traces the hollow of your cheekbone. “i could have told my brother that," he says, with a softness in his voice you are utterly unprepared for.