Page 84 of Enslaved

But he cups my cheek in his hand, gazing down at me with such an expression of tenderness it could break my heart. “On this at least my sight is truer than yours. If you will permit me, I’ll gladly devote a lifetime to teaching you how to see yourself as I see you.”

It’s too much. I cannot bear that look of his. He’s like the summer sun, and I have no shade in which to hide my pale naked skin. I turn away, breathing hard. “Some said you were Fatebound to Ilusine,” I murmur, desperate to change the subject.

He laughs outright. “Were you jealous? I do so hope you were jealous. You’re so solemn and serious and painfully difficult to read! I thought perhaps when I danced with her at Vespre on the night ofHugagthat maybe . . . maybe . . .”

“Youwantedto make me jealous?”

“More than anything. Jealous women are apt to act upon their passions, and I very much wanted a glimpse of your passionate side.” He drops his eyes, lets them run languorously down my body pressed up tight against his. “A little more than a glimpse, perhaps.”

“And jealous men are so much better controlled are they?”

“Hardly. I should have liked to kill your Doctor Gale several times over by now.” His face darkens. “And I fully intend to kill Ivor.”

With those words, reality crashes back down on us, an avalanche of inescapable dread. I push away from him, sit upright on the desk. Suddenly, it feels very small, very hard, very uncomfortable. “Come back to me, Darling,” the Prince says gently.

But I shake my head, slip off the edge, and gather up my dress from the floor. The Prince rises, still naked and glorious. I cannot resist a lingering glance his way. “I have to go,” I say, stepping into the gown. “Ivor hasn’t noticed I’m gone yet and . . .” I can’t bear to finish.

He understands, however. Rising, he wraps himself up in his dressing gown. “Don’t forget this,” he says and swipes up something from the ground before handing it to me. It’s the bloodgem. Heaven spare me! I’d totally forgotten it. After all this, all the struggle and peril and pain, it seems so insignificant.

But it’s not. It’s Danny’s freedom. And I will give it to him after all.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

The Prince ties up the back laces of my gown with far more reluctance than he’d ripped them open. When they’re secure once more, he sweeps my hair to one side and kisses my shoulder, holding me close against his chest. I close my eyes, allow myself to be in that space with him. Just one moment more.

“Please.” I turn suddenly and wrap my arms around his neck. “Please, my Prince. Don’t die.”

His brow puckers. “Your Prince?”

“My Castien,” I amend and pull him down into a kiss.

No sooner do our lips meet, however, than the awful constriction of Obligation tightens around my throat. I gasp and yank back, staggering at the pain. The Prince’s eyes flash with understanding. “I’ll kill him,” he growls. “Damn the rite, I’ll kill him here and now!”

“No.” I press my hands against his chest. If I could, I’d force him to return to Vespre safe and sound. Gods, have I only made things worse? Have I only made him more determined to use whatever powers are at his disposal to annihilate his enemy, heedless of the consequences? “Please, Castien. Win your victory. Win your crown. Win my freedom. But do not die for it. Do not die for me. I could not bear it if you . . . if you . . .” The Obligation tugs even more sharply than before. I stagger back several paces, gripping my throat as though to loosen the invisible bond. “I must go.” I turn pleading eyes up to him. “And you must let me. If you love me at all, you will let me.”

He follows me to the door. I fear he’ll follow me all the way to Ivor’s chambers and go through with his murderous intent. At the last, however, he stops and kisses me one final time, though I wince at the pain. Then he looks into my eyes, cupping my face with his hands. “I will save you, my Darling. Whatever else happens, I promise you that.”

With his words in my ear and his kiss still warm upon my lips, I slip from his chambers back out into the crowd of people waiting in the passage beyond. They part around me, their expressions confused, their eyes very large and staring.

Flushing mightily, I duck my head and hasten through their midst, the Obligation jolting me along every step of the way.

Ivor is sunk deep in a crescent-shaped bath, surrounded by a cloud of scented steam when I step through the door into his private washroom. Estrilde perches elegantly just behind him, massaging his shoulders. Her hands knead and pull with sensual possession, running up and down his chest, his neck, his hair. She gives me a hard, distasteful look when I appear.

“I understand,” she says, “that you are responsible for the state of my newest Obligate.” She bares her teeth. “I like my footmen pretty. It’ll take a bit of glamour work to fix him up right, and much longer for any actual healing to take place. You selfish beast.”

I stare at her. I’m trembling hard, terrified to be alone with either of them. But Castien’s true name burns on my tongue. I know what will happen if I call it—and they know too. Ivor’s gaze is hooded, but there’s a subtle wariness to his expression. And Estrilde’s bitter cruelty is too obvious a mask for her fear.

As I’m not obliged to, I make no answer, but stand with my hands neatly folded, my heart racing. I can still feel every place on my body where the Prince’s hands and lips touched, and the memory makes me stronger, braver. Looking over Ivor’s head, I meet Estrilde’s harsh eyes, my gaze steady, unflinching.

An animal growl rumbles in the princess’s throat. I could almost swear I see her hackles raise. But Ivor catches her hand, draws it to his lips, then takes one of her fingers in his mouth and sucks it. All the while his gaze is upon me.

My stomach knots. But I refuse to let even the smallest reaction reveal itself on my face.

“My love,” Ivor says, his voice a low purr, “my heart, will you kindly see to it that my sword is readied? I’d prefer to spill your cousin’s blood cleanly rather than be reduced to hacking him to pieces for the pleasure of the crowd.”

“Of course, beloved.” Estrilde nibbles his ear before catching his mouth in a long, lingering kiss. Then she rises, her steam-dampened gown clinging to her breasts and hips, and saunters across the washroom, passing me on her way to the door. As she draws near, she pauses suddenly and sniffs. Her eyes narrow. “Ugh! Just when I thought Castien couldn’t stoop any lower.” With a curl of her lip, she moves on, out the door, shutting it behind her.

So I am alone with Ivor once more. Standing before him as he lounges naked in his bath. I fix my stare on the wall beyond his head, a faint smile on my lips, though I know his fae senses can detect the trembling in my knees.

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