The Princess's Revenge Chapter 73

Valencia’s POV

I went back to Logan's room, my mind racing with worry. His hand was still bleeding badly. His wolf should have healed it by now, but the wound stayed open.

I pushed open the door and went straight to the wooden chest in the corner. My hands fumbled through the contents - spare clothes, a few personal items, and finally what I was looking for. A small clay pot of healing salve and some linen bandages I'd stored here days ago.

"Please be okay," I whispered, clutching the supplies.

Something felt wrong. Really wrong. My chest tightened with an anxiety I couldn't explain. It was like the air itself was warning me.

I couldn't just wait here. Not when every instinct screamed that something bad was happening.

I ran back down the stairs, taking them two at a time. The supplies bounced in my hands as I rushed through the corridors. When I burst into the courtyard, servants were still working, collecting ashes from the cooling pyre.

But Logan wasn't there.

"Dr. Vance!" I called out, spotting him near the platform.

He looked up, his face tired in the flickering light. "Valencia? What are you doing here? The Alpha said—"

"Where is he?" I interrupted. "Where did Logan go?"

Dr. Vance frowned. "He walked east after speaking with Edmund. That's usually where he goes when he needs to be alone."

"East?" My heart sank. "The cliff?"

"Yes, it's his preferred spot for—"

I didn't hear the rest. I was already running.

The path climbed steeply, and my legs burned from the effort. Tree branches caught at my clothes as I pushed through.

"Please don't do anything stupid," I panted, forcing myself to run faster.

The trees thinned out. Then disappeared completely. Just bare rock under the starlight. And there he was.

Logan stood at the very edge of the cliff, his toes hanging over. The wind whipped at his clothes, pushing and pulling.

"LOGAN!" I screamed. "STOP!"

He turned, confusion clear on his face even in the darkness. "Valencia?"

"Don't do it!" I yelled, my voice cracking. "Please don't jump!"

His eyes widened in shock. He stepped back from the edge immediately, walking toward me. "What are you—"

I didn't let him finish. I ran straight into him, wrapping my arms around his waist and burying my face in his chest.

"Why?" I sobbed against him. "Why would you want to jump? I know you're hurting, I know the guilt is killing you, but this isn't the answer!"

He was silent for a moment. Then I felt his chest rumble with a soft laugh.

"Valencia," he said gently. "I wasn't going to jump."

I pulled back to look at him, tears streaming down my face. "You were standing right at the edge! Your toes were hanging over!"

"I was feeling the wind," he said, and there was actually amusement in his voice. "It helps me think. Clears my head."

"You were feeling the wind?" I repeated, incredulous. "At the edge of a cliff? In the dark?"

"Yes."

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard!"

He laughed again, a real laugh this time. "Maybe. But I've been doing it for years. It's where I come when I need to be alone."

"Well, you looked like you were about to jump!" I wiped my eyes with my sleeve. "Your whole body language, the way you were standing there all dramatic and brooding—"

"Dramatic and brooding?" His eyebrows rose.

"Yes! Like some tragic hero about to end it all!"

"I was just thinking," he protested.

"While dangling your toes over a cliff!"

"The edge helps me focus."

"The edge helps you look suicidal!"

He cupped my face in his hands, his thumbs wiping away my tears. "I'm sorry I scared you. That wasn't my intention."

"You're an idiot," I said, but there was relief in my voice now. "Promise me something."

"What?"

"Next time you want to feel the wind and think, do it at least three feet from any cliff edges."

"Three feet?"

"Minimum."

"That defeats the purpose."

"The purpose is stupid!"

He pulled me onto his lap, wrapping his arms around me. "Fine. Three feet."

"Promise?"

"I promise." He kissed my forehead. "Thank you for coming to save me from my non-existent suicide attempt."

"Don't make fun of me! You scared me to death!"

"I know. I'm sorry." He held me tighter. "But I have to admit, seeing you run at me screaming like that was... interesting."

"Interesting?"

"You looked like you were ready to tackle me."

"I was! I thought you were about to jump!"

"What if your tackle had sent us both over?"

I hadn't thought of that. "Then we'd die together, I guess."

"How romantic."

"Shut up." I smacked his chest lightly. "This isn't funny."

"It's a little funny."

"It's not!"

But I was fighting a smile now. The relief that he was okay made everything else seem less heavy.

"Why did you come looking for me? I told you to wait in the room."

"Your hand. It's still bleeding." I held up the bandages and healing salve I'd brought. "Let me treat it."

"It's fine," Logan said, pulling his hand back.

"No, it's not fine." I grabbed his wrist before he could move away. "Stop being stubborn and let me help."

"Valencia—"

"Don't 'Valencia' me. Sit down." I pointed to a flat rock near the cliff edge. "Now."

He sighed but sat down. "You're being ridiculous."

"And you're being impossible." I knelt beside him and took his hand, turning it palm up to examine the cut.

My fingers froze. The wound was almost completely closed. Just a thin pink line remained where the deep gash had been.

"But... it was bleeding so much," I said, confused and embarrassed. "I saw it. The blood wouldn't stop."

Logan laughed, a real laugh that made his whole face lighter. "Knox finally decided to do his job."

"This isn't funny!" I said, but I was fighting a smile. "I ran all the way here thinking you were going to bleed out or get an infection or—"

"Or jump off a cliff?" he teased.

"That too!" I opened the jar of salve anyway. "Well, I'm here now and I brought this, so you're getting treated whether you need it or not."

"That's completely unnecessary."

"Too bad." I scooped some salve onto my fingers and spread it over the nearly-healed cut. "This will prevent scarring."

"I have dozens of scars. One more won't matter."

"Well, this one matters to me." I started wrapping the bandage around his hand. "Stop moving."

"I'm not moving."

"You're fidgeting."

"I don't fidget."

"You're literally fidgeting right now." I tied off the bandage and sat back. "There. Was that so terrible?"

"Traumatic," he said dryly.

"Drama queen."

"Says the woman who thought I was suicidal because I was standing near a cliff."

"Standing near? Your toes were hanging off the edge!"

"I have excellent balance."

"You have terrible judgment." I put the supplies aside and looked at him seriously. "How did it go with Garrick's father?"

Logan's face changed. The lightness disappeared, replaced by that heavy look I'd seen all evening. "It went."

"What did he say?"

"He said he couldn't forgive me. Not yet." Logan's voice was flat. "Maybe someday, but not today."

"Did you apologize?"

Logan shook his head. "I couldn't."

"Why not?"

"Because sorry isn't enough." His jaw clenched. "Sorry doesn't bring his son back. Sorry doesn't change what happened."

"But it's still important to say it."

"No, it's not." He stood up, pacing up and down in front of me. "An apology from me would be meaningless."

"Logan—"

"I can't apologize, Valencia." He turned to face me. "Don't you understand? I'm the Alpha. I'm supposed to be strong. Infallible. If I start apologizing, admitting weakness, what happens to everyone's faith in me?"

"Their faith in you won't disappear because you show you're human."

"Won't it?" His voice was bitter. "I led them into an ambush. Got thirty-nine people killed. If I stand up and apologize, admit I failed, why would anyone trust me again?"

I stood up and walked to him. "Because admitting mistakes takes more strength than pretending you don't make them."

He stared at me like I'd said something in a foreign language.

"Logan, everyone already knows what happened. They know you made a mistake. Pretending otherwise doesn't fool anyone." I took his bandaged hand in mine. "What they need is to know you understand their pain. That you share it."

"I can't—"

"You don't have to grovel," I interrupted. "You don't have to beg forgiveness. But acknowledging their loss, showing you carry it too... that's not weakness. That's leadership."

"You really think that?"

"I know that." I squeezed his hand. "You're the reason the border has been stable for so long. You're the reason this pack hasn't been overrun by rogues or invaded by Aldermere. One mistake doesn't erase years of protection."

Logan looked genuinely shocked.

"Tomorrow morning, at the ash ceremony, you should say something. Not a big speech. Just... acknowledge what happened. Let them know you feel it too." I looked into his eyes. "They don't need a perfect Alpha. They need a real one."

"You think they'd give me another chance?"

"I think they already have. They're just waiting for you to take it."

He was quiet for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "Tomorrow morning. At the ceremony."

"Good."

"Thank you," he said, his voice soft. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Probably stand on cliff edges looking dramatic."

"I wasn't—" He stopped when he saw my smile. "You're never letting that go, are you?"

"Never."

His eyes warmed as he looked at me. Then he leaned down and kissed me. Soft at first, just a gentle press of lips. But when I responded, wrapping my arms around his neck, it deepened. His tongue swept into my mouth, and I tasted the wine from dinner mixed with something uniquely him.

The kiss went on and on under the moonlight. His hands tangled in my hair while mine gripped his shoulders. When we finally pulled apart, we were both breathing hard. A strand of saliva connected our lips for a moment before breaking.

I looked into his eyes and saw raw desire burning there. The same heat I felt coiling in my stomach.

"We should go back," I whispered.