The door did open. Cassian had prioritized meeting first with Iliana, but immediately after he had come to see his Huntsman. It was good that the king had a lifetime of hiding his true feelings.

The man did nothing to draw attention to himself or to intervene. He simply let his feet slow, watching at the witches tried to handle Regan.

The witches had helped Regan to a standing position as her feet shuffled underneath her to find solid ground, with the intention of guiding her back toward the bed again. But once she found her footing, Regans jerked away, stumbling and smacking into the wall as another flash of pain went from her neck to her teeth. She hissed—the human-to-creature ratio contained in that noise, unclear.

“I have…to get out…”

“You’ll hurt yourself, you have to rest..."

The healer reached for Regan again, catching her by the shirt as she made another weak attempt to escape. A growl rumbled in Regan’s throat as she was dropped down onto the bed.

“No, I need…” Regan fussed for a moment as the healers held her through another flash of pain up through her neck into her head. She was still hot, so the witches took care not to touch her skin if it could be avoided. But then...Regan stilled and closed her eyes. She breathed deeply as the witches cast concerned glances at one another. Regan’s eyes opened and glowed as brightly as hot coals as they came to rest on Cassian. Her gaze was wild—one of lust and pain and yearning desperation.

“Cassian.”

Both the witches looked up. One took her hands off Regan, the other held her still.

The room shifted as soon as the king was noticed. Cassian had been waiting for it. The familiar key change. The nervous glances as those present thought through what they had been doing, determining whether to be ashamed or proud. Cassian didn’t have an opinion. His gaze was set on Regan and the chaos in her eyes.

“Give us a moment.” He said softly, but a king like him didn’t need to be loud. They listened with rapt attention, heard him loud and clear, and obediently made to clear the space about Regan. Cassian drew closer, emanating caution in a way that a half beast like Regan would surely detect.

The healers, ready to be free both of Cassian’s judgment and their ward, dipped their heads in an acknowledging bow before efficiently exiting. Even before the door clicked shut Regan was moving. She stood, though she nearly lost her balance, and fell back onto the bed. It was when she was on her feet she sensed his hesitance, but not to be stopped she continued undeterred. Regan would half walk-half stumble toward Cassian with reaching hands. Unless stopped, she’d press against him, clinging to him so as not to fall and bringing her face so close to his he’d feel her ragged breaths tickling against his skin.

Cassian reached out his hands as Regan came stumbling towards him, seeking to catch her at the biceps, effectively stabilizing her while also keeping her an arm’s length from him.

He vocalized what had been his suspicion since the room with the gifteds.

“Was it you?” His gaze bounced over her as if looking for something new. “The fire?”

Cassian was quiet for a beat. Thoughtful. He knew Regan well enough at this point to see the sincerity. She meant what she was saying, regardless of its validity.

He had never felt her burn so hot. If not for his necklace then he surely would be damaged, if not dead. If not for his suppression of the magic in the room, all of them might have burned.

Cassian’s hands came together, fingers of one clasping to turn his ring.

“Until we can investigate this…” and just like that he suppressed her fire. Not her wolf, not her partial shift; just the fire.

Had Cassian been another man he might have mustered up a halfhearted smile, thumbed the tear from her cheek, and spoken some generic words of encouragement. But this was Cassian. His eyes flickered to the tear, his face remained neutral, and he said,

“In time.” And that response was surely simple and inadequate, but it was what he had for her right now.

Cassian saw her fading. His hands were still on her biceps, and he pressed to guide her back to the bed. The witches hadn’t been able to keep her on it, but surely she wouldn’t resist her king?

“For now, rest. Recover. We have some hours in Lorendale yet, but then we will return.” Because everything was better when you were home.

Cassian didn’t have any experience taking care of anyone, nor was his bedside manner something to praise, but he did his best to guide Regan into a laying position, movement that conveniently freed his wrist from her clutches, she persisted.

“I do not know.” He lied, knowing she would accept this answer more easily than the little he did know about Remiel’s eye.

“Rest.” He said again.