“I’m sorry,” I offer in a low voice, perched on the edge of the bed. Across the room, my mate examines himself in the mirror, his fingers brushing over the faint mark on his face. “The king wasn’t exactly pleased with me.”

A quiet laugh escapes him, tinged with amusement. “Some see scars as a sign of weakness. But Zethrys is working on it, so I doubt there’ll be any trace left once it’s healed.”

Relief flutters through me. At least his face ...