Page 80 of Enslaved

“Certainly not.” His voice deepens by an octave. “I only gave that to you for desperate moments. Which, I might add, donotinclude dragging me from my bath so that you may intrude upon my privacy.”

I let the pages drop back to the desk, staring down at them unseeing. “You shouldn’t have done it.” I shake my head, determined to force back prickling tears. “You shouldn’t have given me that name. It . . . it wasn’t meant for me.”

“I am perfectly aware of the circumstances in which such names are and are not meant to be given.” He pulls back his chair and drops gracefully into it. “Which of us was born and raised in Eledria, hmmm?”

I won’t let him put me off. Not now. Not when there’s so little time. “When did you write these?” I demand.

“These old spells you mean? I don’t know. Some years ago. Back before the curse fell. They’re potent though, if cast correctly.”

“You can’t use them”

He shrugs. “It’s true, the Rite of the Thorn is traditionally fought without magic. Even glamours are forbidden within the arena. But I fully expect Ivor to make use of every trick to his advantage. I intended to be prepared.”

My throat is so dry, I cannot swallow. “What will happen,” I ask, my voice scratchy, “if you win the rite?”

“Then everything belonging to Ivor will become mine. Titles, inheritances. Any particularly choice knickknacks.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on the desk and steepling his fingers. “And, of course, any Obligates he’s collected over the years.”

The front of his dressing gown parts, revealing his still damp and gleaming chest. I blink and hastily avert my gaze. “And if Ivor wins?”

“He won’t.”

“How can you know?”

“Because I will see to it that Ivor does not walk out of that arena alive.”

I draw a shivering breath. “If you use this magic you will die.”

The Prince sighs. “Yes. Most likely. There was never very much doubt on that score.” He leans back, tipping the chair onto two legs. “Chin up, Darling! If Ivor and I do indeed manage to kill each other, your Obligation will be broken. You’ll be free to return home. Which, by the way . . .”

Setting the chair back down with a thump, he pulls open a drawer of the desk and draws something out from inside. Rising, he comes around the desk and approaches me. My heart leaps then plunges as he takes my hand, opens it, and places something cold and hard in my palm. I look down, dumbly. Unable for some moments to grasp what it is I see.

Then I gasp. “It’s the bloodgem.”

The stone is black but stained red from the inside out. Filled with the blood of Vokarum’s victims. The magic it exudes is the most powerful I’ve ever encountered, far greater than the deadliest grimoires in Vespre Library. The crone’s evil magic pulses with malignance, as though it would poison any soul in the vicinity. It makes me sick just looking at it.

“How did you do it?” I look up at him, shaking my head in disbelief. “How did you manage all those tasks so quickly?”

He shrugs. “Time moves differently across the worlds. And I was, shall we say,motivated.”He stands so close. Close enough I can just feel his breath against my forehead. His voice is deeper than it was before. Almost gentle. “You can pay the price for your Doctor Gale. Free him from his Obligation. Then the two of you may return to your world, just as you wished. Return to your world and live out your life with those you love.”

I lift my gaze only to find myself locked in the mesmerizing hold of his eyes. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he’d glamoured me, so intense is the draw I feel for him.

But there is no glamour here. No magic. There’s just him. Him and those beautiful, deep-as-night eyes of his.

“I hope you’ll think of me,” he says. “Now and then. Not too often, of course. I wouldn’t want the memory of my devastating good looks to mar your happiness in any way.”

I close my hand around the gem, squeeze it tight. What must he have gone through to get it? All the perils of those foolish bargains I’d made, followed by a journey into the Nightmare Realm to face Idreloth herself. He shouldn’t have done it. He should have found some way to resist his Obligation, to fight me, to break whatever hold I have over him. He shouldn’t have risked so much. He shouldn’t risk more now.

“Why?” The word trembles on my lips. “Why are you doing this?” He doesn’t answer. “I won’t have you die. Not for me. I can’t bear it.” Desperation makes me angry, frantic. “There must be a way out. Tell Ivor you retract your challenge. You’ve completed your Obligation to me. You can go home to Vespre, you can leave now before—”

He takes my hand. It’s a simple gesture, but it stops me short. “Darling,” he says softly, “you know it’s far too late for any of that. Whether in life or in death, our fates are bound. Forever.” He tips his head, looking at me from under his brows. “Do you understand?”

I shake my head. I don’t. I won’t.

“You spoke my true name. Only one woman in all the worlds may do that. For her I would give my life. I would give a thousand lives—to see you safe and whole and happy.”

One day, I’ll offer that name as a gift to she who will be my wife.

If she accepts me, she will speak it back.

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