To heal a Rogue

LYSANDER

I pushed through the infirmary’s private ward door faster than dignity strictly allowed, my boots skidding slightly on the polished floor, and the sight of Bonnie sitting upright, awake, alert, her color returned, hit me somewhere just beneath the ribs hard enough to steal my breath entirely. I crossed the room in three strides and pulled her into my arms before either of us could say a single word, holding on longer than the moment probably required, longer than was strictly dignified for a regent standing in the middle of a royal infirmary.

She let me. Her hands found the back of my shirt and gripped, fisting the fabric like she needed the anchor as much as I did.

Over her shoulder, I caught Fia’s eye where she stood near the window, and I mouthed a silent thank you, the words too large to trust my voice with yet.

Fia inclined her head, something warm and tired passing across her face in answer.

Bonnie pulled back first. I saw guilt settle on her face before she spoke, the tension around her eyes revealing she had been preparing this apology probably since she woke.

”I’m sorry,” she said. ”For all of it. For nearly killing Johann and, in doing so, causing problems for you. For hurting Fia. I don’t even remember doing any of it, and somehow that makes it worse, not better. Like I lost control of my own body and handed it to something that used it to hurt the people I actually care about.”

”You don’t need to apologize to me,” I said, settling onto the edge of the bed beside her, close enough that our knees touched. ”I’m the one who broke the promise that started all of this in the first place. If anyone in this room owes an apology, it’s me. I told you those men and women would be safe. I meant it when I said it, and I still failed to deliver on it.”

”We can both be sorry,” she said, quiet but firm. ”One doesn’t cancel the other out. That’s not how this has to work.”

”Fair enough,” I said, feeling some relief at being allowed to accept my own responsibility without her trying to take it on herself.

She was quiet for a moment, absently picking at a loose thread on the blanket. I allowed the silence to remain.

”I think part of why I fell apart the way I did,” she said finally, ”is because some part of me expected you to fail. Not because I doubted you specifically. Not really. It’s more that I’ve never let myself fully trust anyone not to disappoint me eventually. It’s easier to brace for the worst than to actually believe someone will keep their word all the way through. That way, the disappointment never catches me off guard.” She glanced up at me, something vulnerable and raw in her expression that I rarely got to see fully unguarded. ”That isn’t fair to you. I know that. I’ve known it for a while now, honestly. I’m working on it. Trying to, anyway.”

”That’s more honest than I expected,” I said, reaching over to take her hand, threading my fingers through hers. ”Thank you for telling me instead of just letting it sit there unspoken between us.”

”I’m trying to let people in, instead of waiting for them to prove me right for not trusting them. It is a difficult habit to break,” she said.

”I’m not going anywhere,” I assured her. ”Even when I fail. Especially then, probably.”

Fia, who’d been quiet for most of our conversation, turned with a small, knowing smile tugging at her mouth.

”Since you’re standing here looking considerably less panicked than when you left us,” she said, ”I’m going to assume a solution presented itself for whatever disaster was waiting for you out there.”

”There’s apparently a great deal a regent can get away with,” I said, a wry note creeping into my voice despite everything. ”More than I expected, honestly. It’s almost concerning how flexible the law becomes when you’re powerful enough.”

Bonnie’s eyebrows lifted, something cautiously hopeful flickering across her face. ”So there are no consequences for me at all? Nothing waiting to bite later?”

”There’s one,” I admitted. ”Keep your head cool from here on out. That’s the arrangement I made on your behalf.” I let out a slow breath, the weight of everything else pressing back in. ”And I am sincerely sorry those retainers died today. I hope the investigation into who’s actually orchestrating all of this finally breaks something loose soon, so the real criminals see the sun on their faces one last time before they answer for what they’ve done, and the innocent finally stop paying prices that were never theirs to pay.”

Bonnie’s expression shifted, something careful and guarded settling back over it, the pessimism I’d just watched her confess to creeping visibly into her posture.

”That means Johann wasn’t found guilty,” she said slowly. ”For beheading those innocent people.”

”No,” I admitted, holding her gaze steady even though I wanted to look away from the disappointment forming there. ”He wasn’t. Not officially anyway.”

She didn’t say anything further right away, but I could see the old, familiar bracing reflex settling in behind her eyes, the same one she’d just described to me moments earlier, already preparing for every subsequent piece of bad news before it arrived.

”But moving forward,” I said, ”I have a plan. I didn’t anticipate Edelina and Johann being willing to go quite this far, quite this fast. It’s become painfully clear there isn’t a line either of them won’t cross to get what they want. So I have to be willing to match that. Maybe exceed it, if that’s what it takes to actually protect you and others properly this time.”

Bonnie’s gaze cut sideways toward Fia, and something passed between the two women, some private understanding, before Fia let out a small, surprised laugh.

”Am I missing something?” I asked, glancing between them.

”No,” Fia said, still smiling faintly, shaking her head.

”It’s just that Fia said something almost identical to me earlier,” Bonnie said, a faint answering smile tugging at her own mouth despite everything. ”About having to be willing to be worse than your enemies sometimes, if you actually want to beat them properly.”

”Great minds,” Fia said, shrugging one shoulder.

Bonnie’s expression sobered again quickly, worry replacing the brief flicker of levity. ”Are you sure about this path, though? It feels like every direction we try leads straight into another wall. And I don’t know how much time they actually have left before something even worse happens. Time feels like the one thing none of us actually have to spare right now.”

”Don’t worry,” I said, squeezing her hand once, steady and certain even though certainty was in short supply everywhere else in my life at the moment. ”A Delicate is already in the house, and once they are fixed. Within minutes, I expect we’ll finally have some of the answers we’ve been chasing blind since this whole nightmare started.”