Page 114 of Haunted

He calls to her. That infernal prince!

She’s uncertain what’s going on, and I’m not about to tell her. I wait, feigning sleep.

NIAWEN.

I had left the prince broken and in agony. His voice is delirious. I’m not sure he’s altogether aware that he’s calling to her.

I have to figure out some way to sever their bond. This will never do.

Niawen!

I’m coming, Kenrik. I’m coming, Niawen says. I feel the weight of Kenrik’s emotions. Niawen drowns in them. His feelings have become her own, which is how I discern them.

When she slides away from me and tiptoes across the room, I don’t move. I want to know exactly how strong this bond is, what she can sense, where his cries will take her.

I can’t see you, she whispers. Where are you? Your light is veiled. She’s panicked as she wanders the citadel’s corridors. She assumes he is near. Does she already suspect me of holding him prisoner?

I rise and dress quickly, anxiety cutting deep.

Niawen moves to the first floor. Her thoughts are jumbled as she tries to make sense of things. Her unease amplifies mine.

He’s invisible, as if he’s cloaked, she reasons, putting things together. It’s too late to stop her.

He’s cloaked. He’s cloaked. Fear grips her thoughts.

My words come back to her. I use my darkness.

I tried to warn her.

I didn’t try hard enough.

She won’t accept me once she learns the truth.

He’s CLOAKED. The reality crashes into her. She knows I’ve cloaked the prince, hidden him from her.

An ache pierces her heart, my heart.

I run down the stairs to the first floor. She’s moved ahead. I see through her. She’s in darkness, but I feel the cold and her footfalls as she descends. She knows where prisoners are kept. She knows I tortured someone today. Does she know I lied about whom?

I’ll find you, she says. Kenrik, I’m coming.

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I pause at the bottom of the dungeon stairs. She reaches Kenrik’s cell, and her anguished voice carries to me as she calls his name.

She runs to him. The light’s dim despite a torch on the wall, but I see my handiwork through her eyes, and I feel her stomach turn.

The prince is in bad shape. Other than his crushed legs, his face is crusted with blood and swollen to grotesque proportions. His head lolls side to side. He’s unaware of Niawen’s presence.

He won’t be walking out of his cell anytime soon. Healing him will take time.

Is that what she intends to do? Unquestionably. I made her a healer. Threw the calling at her. She would never leave her dear prince in pain. It’s inhumane.

I’m a monster.

This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening, Niawen moans. He’s my husband!

And there I sense it. Her disgust for me. I tortured someone she cared about and left him bleeding on the filthy floor, dying a slow painful death.

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