Page 50 of Wrath of the Never Queen

“I always accompany you, Your Highness.”

“Regardless, I do not like to assume. You are always free to change your mind.” He reverts to his usual formal position, hands clasped behind his back. His face has fallen into his accustomed neutrality except for the pink tinge in his cheeks. My mouth curves into a smile.

“Thank you, Your Highness.” I chew my lip for a moment. “Has it…always been a regular occurrence? Your turnings?”

The prince sighs and rubs the back of his neck.

“At first, it was. Or so we thought. But soon, it would happen sporadically, sometimes even in my sleep. I became a danger to everyone around me.”

He draws himself back as we both notice the resentment in his voice.

“I suppose it would not be a curse if it was easy to manage, would it?” He dips his gaze with a sad smile. There are a few moments of quiet while I process this.

“Your Highness,” I say. “I am sorry you must suffer this curse. Especially…”

He brings his eyes back up until they are fixed on mine, boring into me in a way he does so easily. I take a deep breath and continue.

“Especially from your mother,” I finish, keeping my voice soft.

He says nothing, but his eyebrows push up together in the middle, and his eyes shinewith tears, glinting in the firelight. He looks so mournful, I cannot bear it and reach across for his hand, grasping it tight.

After a long moment, he speaks.

“I do not even hate her,” he whispers. “I just wish I knew what I had done to make her hate me.”

Tears begin to spill, sliding down his fair cheeks and falling from his jaw. He makes no move to rub them away, and so neither do I, allowing him this sadness.

“You were a child,” I tell him. “A baby. You did not do anything, Your Highness. Do you blame me for my father selling me like I was a load of bread?”

He blinks at me.

“O-Of course not.” He shakes his head. “Your father is a foolish, gambling, low-life cur, if you will pardon my language.”

His sudden burst of fury on my behalf makes me smile despite myself and he gives a sheepish grin back.

“Sometimes, Your Highness, we are a victim of other people’s choices. I promise you, you did nothing to deserve this curse,” I tell him, giving his hand an encouraging squeeze.

“My thanks, Miss Shivani.” He takes a deep breath and wipes the last of his tears away with the back of his arm. “My thanks for being a…”

He halts, his eyes moving from where our hands are bound up to my face. I blush under hisgaze, but he does not finish the sentence. His lips remain parted but he has frozen, eyes uncertain.

“A friend,” I finish for him.

He moves as if to say something but hesitates.

“A friend,” he repeats eventually before releasing my hand.

Chapter 21

We fall into a comfortable routine. As well as my usual visits, each time the prince turns, I am escorted to his bedchambers to aid his recovery. Each time, it becomes a little easier to open up in conversation, and I can feel the same in him. He laughs more but also cries more, sometimes a few tears which quickly dry but sometimes great heaving sobs which rack his whole body. It is during these times I take to holding his hand tight and letting him release the sadness and the pain he has held. Sometimes, the anger, too.

In turn, I find myself laughing more and crying less. When I am not with the prince, I paint in the art room, creating vast landscapes and experimenting with the hundreds of colours I now have access to. Or I am with Inez, sharing afternoon tea and exchanging stories with hushed giggling.

Occasionally, I am slipped notes from thekitchen, updating me on the latest gossip from Vanya and I send notes in return. I write recipes my aunt taught me with a promise to finish the tale of the siren and the witch when I am able to see her next. Each time I go back to my chambers, mycage, the anger and fury are a little less sharp when I know I have allies.

The secret passageway leading outside the castle remains stuck in my mind, like corn between teeth. I cannot use it, not without the rest of the king’s hostages, but I cannot ignore it either. The prince, while his curse remains, will never leave. This knowledge troubles me, corroding our time together.

???

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