Page 66 of Enslaved

“I know about the curse.” His voice is short, sharp. “It is the most powerful magic remaining to my family line and has withstood many generations. But . . . but I don’t understand. How do you know about it? About the High King, the dragon, and . . . and why should you care?” He takes a step closer, dropping his voice an octave. Gone is the desperate tone of the impassioned lover. “Who told you I am Illithorin’s blood?”

“No one,” I answer hastily. “The information is all available in the library records. I was searching, you see, because . . . well, I made a bargain.”

“A bargain? With whom?” His eyes flash. “With Castien?”

“No!” My skirts rustle as I back up two paces. “No, I’ve made no bargains with the Prince. I am . . . I am attempting to . . .”

How can I possibly explain? Ivor won’t care about Danny. He won’t care about Seraphine or her son. He certainly won’t care about Oscar. No one cares. No one but me. Which is why I must do this on my own. No one is going to help me, not even the Prince save when forced by Obligation. I am all alone. As I have always been.

I raise my chin, facing Ivor, determined not to flinch. “My bargains are my own business. You asked how you might prove yourself? This is it. I need you to free the dragon from her curse. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

Ivor studies me closely. Now the first flash of surprise has passed, the anger in his eye fades away, replaced by subtle cunning. Even that vanishes after a few more blinks, and something of the passionate, tormented Ivor returns, if perhaps more subdued than before. “This thing you ask is not impossible, to be sure. But difficult. I would be a fool indeed if I did not bargain with you in turn.”

“What?” My stomach clenches.

He smiles, a gentle sort of smile that does not suit him at all. “Why should you be surprised? You are familiar with the ways of Eledria. It would be imprudent of me to lift a curse of such age-old power unless I made certain it was worth my while.”

“And . . . what would be worth your while, my lord?”

“One thing and one thing only.”

In his gaze I see something of the hunger I’d glimpsed in the Prince’s eyes when we danced together. Only this hunger makes me shrink away from him, trembling. He stretches out one hand, and the expression is at once replaced by one of tender longing, forlorn and yet holding on to the barest thread of hope.

“I want you, Clara,” he says. “I want your Obligation. If you convince Castien to sell it to me at last, I will lift the curse on Oasuroa.”

The whole floor seems to tilt under my feet. Only the greatest will keeps me standing upright. This is too much, too much.

But then again . . .why not?After all what does it matter if I exchange one fae master for another?

A sudden throb in my head. I seem to hear again that wild, magic-infused music dancing in my veins. I feel the Prince’s arms holding me close, see those vivid eyes of his staring down at me, drawing me toward him. Was that nothing but glamour and trickery? Perhaps. He does not want me. Of that I am certain. Otherwise, he would have kissed me when I offered myself so brazenly. He does not want me. He wants only my power, my service. Why should he have me and not Ivor? I don’t want to be Ivor’s Obligate, but . . . but even more, I need to escape the Prince. I need to get away from Vespre, away from his presence, his atmosphere. I need . . . I must . . .

My mouth opens. And it seems as though some other voice speaks through me, hollow and echoing: “Very well, my lord. If I can convince the Prince to sell, we have a bargain.”

I stumble from Estrilde’s chambers almost as breathless and unsteady on my feet as I was when I entered. Only now I don’t have Danny’s supporting arm. I hasten down the passage but stop after a turn to press my back against the wall, hand against my heart, and draw several long breaths. It’s painful—like my lungs have been put through a wringer. My head is light, whirling.

Love him,the voice inside me whispers.Love him . . . save him . . .

“Darling!”

The Prince’s voice rings out like an alarm bell, echoing down the vaulting hall. I stand up straight, whirl in place, and see him striding toward me, long coat billowing in his wake. His face is lined and would look furious were it not for the fear simmering in his eyes.

“There you are!” he cries as he draws near. “I swear, I turn my back one moment, and you’ve wandered off into gods only know what trouble. I’ve been hunting everywhere for you, including the library. Where were you?”

By this time he’s quite close. So close I might reach out and place my hand on his heart again, right where it had rested as we danced. My gaze fixes there, on that very spot, even as I answer coldly, “I was seeing to the mission, of course.”

He growls softly. The sound rumbles in my belly, boils in my blood. “Ivor. You’ve spoken to him?”

I nod. “He’s agreed to lift the curse on Oasuroa. For a price.”

The Prince waits. But I can’t say it. I open my mouth, but the words won’t come.

It doesn’t matter. His eyes widen. His mouth becomes an ugly, terrible leer. “Never,” he snarls, and turns away from me. With quick, long strides, he marches back up the passage, as though ready to march straight out of my life.

“Wait!” I hasten after him. “You haven’t heard what I have to say!”

“I don’t have to. I know what he wants. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. Gods! I’ve fended off that snake’s demands already, haven’t I? And now you want to throw yourself into his coils!”

I stop and watch his retreating back. I won’t chase him. I don’t have to. “What does it matter? What does it matter if it’s you or him or Estrilde? Whichever way you look at it, I’m still trapped here against my will. Still serving out my sentence, far from home, far from my family. Far from everyone I love.”

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