To heal a Rogue

JOHANN

The knocking dragged me up out of sleep for the second time that morning, and I lay there for a moment, glaring at the ceiling before finally hauling myself upright.

"Who is it?" I called, making no effort to hide the irritation in my voice.

"High Beta Bradley."

Something in me actually laughed at that. Quiet, private, entirely at Bradley’s expense. Of all the people to come knocking after a night like this one, the universe had apparently decided to send me the single man I most enjoyed unsettling. Aside my dear cousin of course.

I crossed the room and opened the door, giving him exactly one look at my face before turning my back on him and walking farther into the room. I hooked my fingers beneath the hem of my shirt and pulled it over my head.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?"

I tossed the shirt onto a chair and reached for the waistband of my trousers.

"It might be best if you kept your clothes on."

Bradley’s voice had gone suspiciously flat.

"They’re sweaty." I worked the waistband loose. "And we’re both men. Unless, of course, there’s some reason this bothers you so much. You have kids so I do hope that is not the case."

His jaw tightened.

He ignored the jab entirely, which was almost more satisfying than if he’d taken the bait.

"The rogue we captured," he continued, "made mention of something before he escaped custody. Something concerning. Unfounded, most likely, but the Elder Circle heard it, and now we have to consider it regardless of how baseless it sounds."

I turned to face him properly, letting my trousers hang loose at my hips.

Bradley’s gaze dropped for half a second before he caught himself and looked pointedly at the wall beside my head.

I smiled. "Is that so?"

"He claimed..." Bradley’s eyes returned to mine. "He claimed he was ordered to kill the King by you."

A slow, disbelieving laugh escaped me.

"And you believe that?"

"Of course not." His expression hardened. "The rogue network exists specifically to sow discord. Lies are their currency."

He hesitated.

That pause told me there was more.

"But when I spoke with the Elder Circle, something else caught their attention. The reason he gave for why you’d supposedly want your own father dead."

"Humor me."

"He claimed you weren’t the biological son of the King."

Silence settled between us.

I let it linger.

One second.

Then two.

I even let it stretch to three.

Long enough to make the shock believable, but not so long that it became theatrical.

"I want that bastard’s tongue." My voice came out low and vicious.

"So do I." Bradley’s mouth tightened. "Unfortunately, the bastard in question has vanished. A jailbreak, most likely, given the state we found his room in. So all we currently have is his word. Which, again, means very little on its own. But still, the elders circle have latched on to it."

Something in my chest threatened to burst into laughter.

My mother hadn’t been exaggerating after all. She’d handled it exactly as promised, and here was Bradley standing in my room at an ungodly hour, delivering the very news she’d already prepared me to receive.

"Don’t tell me," I replied, carefully arranging my face into offended disbelief, "that any of you actually put stock in those lies."

"Before it festers out of control, we want that particular lie dead on arrival. I already spoke with your mother about it this very morning, when she arrived. She agreed entirely."

"I see."

I let another beat pass.

Then I allowed my shoulders to loosen, watching the tension drain from my posture.

"If that’s the case, then I don’t mind."

Bradley blinked.

It was quick, barely there, but I caught it.

His shoulders had been squared for a confrontation. Now they dropped a fraction, as though he’d been holding himself ready to absorb a blow that never came. His mouth opened, then closed again. For perhaps the first time since he’d walked through my door, he seemed to have no prepared response.

His eyes narrowed slightly. "You don’t?"

I shook my head. "No."

Another pause followed.

Bradley glanced at me, then at the discarded shirt, then very deliberately back at my face.

"I expected more resistance."

That nearly made me laugh.

"I can tell."

His brow furrowed.

"Then why aren’t you angry?"

I leaned against the edge of the table, folding my arms.

"Because there’s nothing to be angry about."

For a moment, he simply stared at me.

Then the corner of his mouth twitched.

It was not quite a smile.

I had to bite back a smile at the sight of it.

He’d expected refusal. Outrage, perhaps. Accusations of disrespect, of overreach, of the Elder Circle daring to question royal blood on the word of a rogue who’d already proven himself a liar and a murderer.

If my mother hadn’t gotten to me first, hadn’t filled me in on exactly what was coming and why I needed to play along without flinching, I imagine I would have given him precisely that reaction.

And precisely the ammunition he was hoping to walk away with.

But that wasn’t the game anymore.

"When do you need the blood?" I asked. "Should I come down to the infirmary myself?"

I pushed my trousers down and reached for my briefs.

Bradley’s eyes flicked downward before he caught himself. His expression tightened.

Whatever he’d been expecting from me, this clearly wasn’t it.

"That won’t be necessary." He cleared his throat, his attention settling firmly on my face. "I brought a healer with me. She can draw it here."

He snapped his fingers and I swear I saw someone move in the corner.

I turned sharply and I was right.

A young woman stepped out from the shadows beside the door, and I stared at her for a moment before realizing she’d apparently been standing there the entire time. She’d positioned herself so neatly against the wall that I’d never even noticed her.

Her gaze found me, then widened.

Color rushed into her cheeks, and she immediately turned toward the wall.

"I’m so sorry, Your Highness." The words tumbled out in a mortified whisper. "I didn’t mean to—"

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