I had just pulled back the covers and was about to slip into bed when the door to my chamber flew open with a bang. I jumped, clutching the blanket to my chest as Gerald strode in without hesitation, as if the room—and everything in it—belonged to him.
Which, to be fair, it did. Technically.
"Ever heard of knocking?!" I snapped, scowling as I tightened the blanket around me. "Next time you do that, I'll kill you in your sleep."
Gerald didn't even blink. He dragged a chair to my bedside and sat down, completely unfazed. In his hand was a small jar I recognised, the ointment for my injury.
"Why do you always leave your door unlocked?" he asked, voice flat.
His gaze lingered on my face for a moment before drifting elsewhere. I adjusted my posture and lifted my injured leg onto his lap with an annoyed huff. "Because," I said, "I'm used to people knocking before they enter my room."
He didn't miss a beat. "Start locking it. If I come by again and find it unlocked, be ready to face the consequences."
I rolled my eyes. "We're not even married yet, and you're already throwing orders around like I'm your child."
"You're my betrothed," he said, with infuriating calm.
"Aye, betrothed, not wife. There's a difference, Your Highness," I muttered through gritted teeth. He ignored me.
Gerald peeled back the bandage on my leg, his brows briefly drawing together.
I followed his gaze. The wound hadn't healed—it looked worse, actually. Redder. Angrier. Like it had grown overnight.
"I'm sure it's just from the stress of the journey," I said, my voice firmer than I felt.
He didn't respond right away. Instead, he leaned closer and examined the wound, then pulled back.
"It's infected."
I let out an exaggerated sigh. "Well, looks like the wedding's off. What a shame."
The next thing I knew, his fingers clamped around my injured leg. I yelped, pain slicing through me like fire. His expression had turned dark, unreadable. Something dangerous simmered beneath the surface.
"What are you doing?!" I cried, trying to pull away, but his grip only tightened.
His voice was calm. Too calm. "Do you want to die?"
I froze. Not because of the words, but because of how quietly he said them. There was venom in his tone, cloaked under the evenness of his delivery.
"You're hurting me," I whispered, my eyes burning with tears I refused to shed.
He didn't answer right away. Then, after a beat, he loosened his grip.
"Be careful," he murmured, like he hadn't nearly crushed my leg.
I turned my face away, wiping a tear that had escaped before he could see.
"Is this what it's going to be like?" I asked softly.
He paused. "That depends. If you keep running your mouth the way you do, then I'm afraid so." He placed my leg gently back on the bed and stood. "I'll be back. Don't lock the door," he added before walking out.
I stared after him, fuming. I wanted to lock the door just to spite him, but I had a feeling he'd break it down and then punish me for it. I still didn't know what I'd said to make him react that way. It was just a joke.
Was this marriage tied to something more than just politics? Something personal?
I didn't have long to drown in confusion. He returned minutes later, this time with a bowl of water and a clean towel draped over his shoulder. I noticed blood now seeping from the wound.
He didn't say a word as he resumed his seat and began cleaning it. I didn't say anything either. The silence between us was uncomfortable and tense, making me too aware of everything.
Gerald reached into his pocket and pulled out a small glass bottle.
"What's that?" I asked, gagging the moment he opened it. The stench was horrible.
"Cedric's special ointment," he replied.
"Cedric?" My face probably mirrored my confusion.
"The palace physician. The ointment will stop the bleeding and numb the pain." He replied, eyes still glued to the bottle.
"That smells like something died in there." He didn't respond. Instead, he angled my leg and, without any warning, poured the contents over the wound.
Pain. Pain like I had never known. I arched off the bed, eyes wide as a scream ripped from my throat. "Are you trying to kill me?!"
Gerald, of course, didn't flinch.
After a moment, the pain faded into a cool, almost breezy sensation. I gasped, then sighed as relief washed over me. It felt like wind dancing over my skin.
I thought I imagined it, but I was sure I saw the corners of his lips twitch.
"You think this is funny, don't you?" I glared.
"The ointment's called Frostburn," he said.
"Charming." I rolled my eyes. "Next time, maybe warn me before you nearly kill me."
"You're still alive, aren't you?"
I rolled my eyes and slowly placed my leg back on the floor. I tested it with a bit of pressure. It didn't hurt nearly as much.
"Thank you," I said quietly.
He glanced at me. "Didn't you want to kill me a few minutes ago?"
"And who said I don't still want to?" I said it with a smile, but deep down, I meant it—at least a little.
As he continued dressing the wound, I watched the way his hands moved, efficient and steady
"You do this like someone who has done this so many times. Were you a physician once?" She jokingly asked.
"Yes." He replied.
That made me pause. "Really?" He didn't explain further. "Of course, you won't explain further," I muttered.
When he finished, I gave him a nod. "Thanks. You can go now."
He raised a brow at the order, "You don't get to tell me what to do."
"Don't I know that already?" Gwen replied sarcastically. "Well, if you may, your royal Highness,"
She waited for him to stand and leave, but the son of the devil didn't move. Instead, he stared into space.
"What are you still doing here?" I frowned. "You don't plan on sleeping in my room, do you?"
Just when I thought he wouldn't reply, he suddenly said, "Don't trust anyone here."
I blinked at the unexpected advice. "What?"
His eyes were pinned on my face. It was too intense for my liking. "No one in this palace is your friend. They'll smile at you, then stab you in the back the moment you look away."
His voice was low, but there was something in it that made my skin prickle.
"I wasn't planning on trusting anyone," I said. Then, before I could stop myself, I asked, "What about you? Can I trust you?"
He turned to me slowly, his expression unreadable. "No. Be especially careful with me." And just like that, he stood and walked to the door. "Cedric will come tomorrow," he said before disappearing into the corridor.
I sat there, stunned and confused all at once. Eventually, I got up and limped over to the window. The night outside was calm and quiet. Silver light bathed the garden in a soft glow that made me smile.
Something caught my eye. A figure was standing far below and watching. I leaned forward and squinted, trying to get a better view, but it was gone before I could even blink.
I slammed the window shut and backed away. "Great. Either I'm losing my mind, or this place really is haunted."
Shivering despite the warmth of the room, I climbed back into bed. But sleep didn't come easily.