Page 62 of Enslaved

“Clara!” Danny gasps.

I’m hardly less surprised. He is the last person I want to meet just now, dressed in this gown, with this particular purpose in mind. “Doctor Gale,” I say quietly. “There’s no need to announce me. I’m not here to—”

Before I can finish, he grabs hold of my upper arm and drags me around the curve of the banister into a shadowed place beyond the lamplight. “Danny, let go of me!” I bleat, momentarily forgetting propriety. “What are you doing?”

“What am I doing?” he hisses, yanking me close to him, his fingers digging hard into my flesh. “What areyoudoing? You cannot barge into the princess’s ball uninvited!”

“I’m not uninvited.” I refuse to wriggle in a vain attempt to get free, but instead glare up into his face. “Estrilde invited the Prince. I’m here as his guest.”

“Hisguest?”Danny’s teeth flash, his lip curled back in a snarl. “Have you taken leave of your senses? Have you no idea how dangerous this is?”

“I’m perfectly aware. Let me remind you, I’ve lived and served in Eledria these last five years.”

Pink light from a lantern hung in a nearby fruit tree highlights the lines of his face and flickers in the depths of his eyes. Eyes which rove down to my too-exposed bosom once more. Gods! I begin to wish I’d thrown this gown back in the Prince’s face and insisted on wearing my travel-stained garment.

I pull against his hold. To my relief, Danny lets go and takes a step back from me, running both hands through his hair. “Please, Clara,” he says, his voice thin and a little desperate. “Just go. Get out of here. I couldn’t bear it if . . . if he were . . . if something were to . . .”

“I’m not going anywhere.” I smooth the front of my gown with both hands, very aware of the spot on my arm where his fingers had pinched. “I’m not here pleasure-seeking. I have a mission to accomplish, so if you wouldn’t mind—”

“What mission?”

I stop and chew my lip. I’d not wanted to let him know; he won’t take it well. But in the moment, I cannot think of a way to put him off.

“I’m trying to save you,” I say softly, dropping my gaze to the button in the middle of his waistcoat.

“Youwhat?”

“Hush!” I cast a glance around, but we don’t seem to have attracted any attention to our shadowed hiding place. Nevertheless, I take a step nearer to Danny and lower my voice. “I’m trying to get the bloodgem necklace for Estrilde. But it’s . . . complicated.”

Danny’s eyes round still more. All traces of that sweet boy I once knew seem to have fled his face entirely, leaving a severe, rather terrifying stranger in his place. “You’re mad,” he breathes.

“Oh, so it’s mad when I attempt to fulfill Estrilde’s demands, but not when you do?”

“It’smyrole.” Danny shakes his head, jaw grinding. “It’smyrole to saveyou.That’s how it’s meant to be.”

I throw up my hands. “Danny, life isn’t like storybooks! You don’t get to be the dashing savior while I play the swooning damsel. I learned a long time ago that no amount of swooning is going to do me or anyone I love any good.” Lifting my chin, I look into his eyes, my resolve hard as stone. “I’m going to save you. Whether you like it or not.”

He stares down at me. Shock, horror, shame, heartache—all these and more swirl in his eyes.

Then, he takes several steps back into the lantern light, lifts his head, and bellows, “Guards!”

“What are you doing?” I lunge forward, slap a hand over his mouth. He wrenches back and calls again, louder than before. “No, Danny, please!” I protest.

Too late. Two guards in golden armor appear, manifesting as though from nowhere on either side of me. “This human has tried to access Princess Estrilde’s ball without an invitation,” Danny says, pointing at me.

“That’s not true!” The guards grasp me by the arms. I twist, trying to catch some glimpse inside their deep, dark helmets. “I’m here as a guest of Prince Castien of Vespre!”

“A likely story,” the guard on my left growls as they drag me from the shadows behind the banister and fairly lift me off my feet to carry me up the stair. I twist to look back, to look down at Danny. He gazes after me, his expression tortured but firm. He means this for the best, but just now I almost hate him.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?”

The guards stop abruptly. I stagger and would fall were it not for their grips upon me. I whip my head forward, gaping up at the figure standing three treads up, resplendent in gold-braid and jeweled cuffs and billowy white silk shirt, his black hair swept back and held in place by the band of a simple stone crown.

The Prince takes me in slowly, his gaze approving. Just as though I’m not standing with my feet almost an inch off the ground, poised between two massive and unyielding guards. His mouth curves. “Well met, Darling,” he purrs. “I must say, while I like the ensemble as a whole, I don’t much care for these accessories.” He waves a hand at each guard in turn.

“We caught her trying to infiltrate the princess’s ball, Your Highness,” the guard on my right growls.

“Gods, you make it sound so dire.” The Prince widens his eyes and mimics the guard’s voice: “One tiny human girl has infiltrated the ball; sound the alarms! The whole kingdom is imperiled!Thank heavens, my father employs men of such stalwart stuff. What would we all come to otherwise?” He holds out a hand to me. I can’t very well take it, pinned in place as I am. “Let her go, gentlemen,” he says. “She’s my guest. And I won’t have you bruising those lovely arms of hers.”

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