Page 35 of Of Curses and Beauty

Again, Daric contemplated how much of his story to reveal. How much would be necessary to see him freed? He debated lying, concocting an elaborate ruse to convince this fellow that he deserved to be let go, but the pain in his head impeded his creativity. In the end, he settled for the truth or as much of the truth as he was willing to share.

“I find myself in a desperate hurry to reach the town of Maribonne.”

The man canted his head but said nothing as he regarded Daric, his dark eyes demanding further explanation without words.

The silence stretched between them until Daric exhaled a long breath. He supposed he owed this man more of an explanation after trying to steal his horse.

“I believe that the woman I love may be there and I fear—“ he stopped, unwilling to speak that which urged his feet forward. “I fear that there are forces at work keeping us apart. I will not rest until she is in my arms again.”

“Ah,” the stranger held up one finger to stop him, “but you have already rested, courtesy of my horse.”

Daric glared in response. “I apologize for the attempted thievery. What is it you require as recompense?” He was eager to be gone and would likely promise this man all the riches he did not have if it meant getting to Alaine.

“I would have you know the truth, Prince Daric.”

Daric startled at the voice that had plagued his nightmares coming from the man before him, the sound so at odds with what he saw.

“It’s not possible.” The words slipped from his mouth as it opened in shock. Try as he might, he couldn’t wrap his brain around the idea of the witch being there. He refused to believe he was still trapped in that curse or worse, that he had been freed and somehow she’d ensnared him again.

Horror froze the blood in his veins as he watched the face before him twist and morph into that of the red-haired witch he knew so well. That chill quickly turned to fire as three hundred years of rage ignited within him. If she had come to claim him again, he would not succumb without a fight. For the first time in centuries, Daric had a reason to live—thedesireto live. He would not lose his one chance at love and freedom.

He clambered to his feet, bracing his hands on his thighs as he waited for the room to stop spinning. The witch rose with him and he resisted the urge to flinch from her outstretched hand. He let her inch closer, feeling his muscles tense like an adder waiting to strike. Ignoring the shock that occurred as her fingers made contact with the swollen side of his face, Daric seized her wrist, spinning her as he pulled her back flat against his chest. He held her arm immobilized across her chest, his chains pressing precariously against her throat.

For a moment, he reveled in the feel of her struggling in his grasp, the utter helplessness of a fly caught in a web. Revulsion quickly followed in its wake. Never before had he felt joy at another’s pain. He wouldn’t become that man, but he would do whatever was necessary to see Alaine safe. There would be no pride in her spilling blood, but neither would he feel shame for finding that peace.

The witch’s lips were moving, though Daric permitted her no air to give them sound. He could not give her a chance to cast her dark magic. With one arm holding her in place, he batted away her hands as she clawed at his face, her touch little more than the flutter of fingers over his injury.

No—that wasn’t right.

He’d noted the shock of their connection at first but ignored the continued sparks thatzingedacross his face as she touched him. They tingled and itched like a wound recently scabbed. With each touch, the pain in his head subsided and the pulsing heat of fever calmed. He sensed his face return to normal and hesitantly blinked his right eye open. The witch slipped from his grasp as his hold on the chains slackened in surprise.

“I mean you no harm,” the witch rasped, the words barely loud enough to reach his ear a breath away. “I simply came to explain. It’s time you knew the truth.”

Daric warred with himself. He had no reason to trust the witch, but something deep within told him to listen.

“You want to talk? Fine. But we will do so as civilized individuals. Give me your word that you will release me from these chains and speak to me as an equal, or I will end you where you stand.” Though he tamped down his fury, his voice was little more than a growl.

“I swear it.”

With a small key she procured from some hidden pocket, the witch unlocked the manacles around his wrists. As the chains landed on the floor with a resoundingclang, Daric felt lighter in more ways than one. He expected the witch to conjure a table and chairs as well, but she selected a pair of overturned crates and sat unceremoniously, rubbing her neck where the chain had bitten it.

Daric considered standing, grateful to have the upper hand for once, but the agreement had been for them to come together as equals. He nudged the remaining crate away from the witch before lowering himself to her level. She smirked despite the bruises forming on her throat.

“Can’t you heal that too?” he asked out of honest curiosity.

Her knowing look said that she expected the question, but she answered anyway. “All magic comes with a cost. I’ve just healed you. It will be some time before I can do the same for myself.”

Daric accepted her vague answer, eager to be done with the conversation. “You mentioned wanting me to know the truth. The truth about what?” He hoped he would not regret leaving her alive when he’d had the chance to end her.

“The truth about your so-called curse and why it was your doing, not mine.”

Chapter 32

Alaine

LordHenrikBaxterlookedjust as Alaine remembered him, not a hair out of place as he lounged at the head of their table. Boots propped on a neighboring chair and arms crossed, he exuded haughty boredom, not even bothering to rise as she made her way toward him.

His greedy eyes roved over her body, no doubt ensuring the goods he’d waited so long for remained untampered. She kept her head high, refusing to cower in his presence. If he thought he was getting a rose, she’d make sure to sharpen her thorns.

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