Page 14 of Enslaved

I pull myself wearily up from my knees and begin to turn around . . . only to find my nose mere inches away from an unbuttoned linen shirt and embroidered coat lapels. I blink, step back, and turn my gaze up to the Prince’s face.

“Did I understand correctly?” he says, one brow arched. “Have I a dinner engagement of which I was not aware?”

I jump back several paces and tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “Prince,” I gasp. Then setting my jaw: “I would have a word with you. Now. If you please.”

His other eyebrow rises to match the first. “My, my. That is quite the imperious tone.” He tips his head a little to one side, narrowing his eyes. “Very well. Would you join me for a stroll in the solarium?”

He’s so polite. Which is not at all like him. It’s strangely unsettling.

Too aware of the heat suddenly rising in my cheeks, I march up the stair and into the palace with only a curt nod for the guard standing watch at the door. I remember the way to the solarium well enough and hasten there without pause, not bothering to check if the Prince follows. I suspect I know why he suggested this particular part of the palace for our conversation. No trolls—not even the nosiest of troll maids—would venture into the solarium by choice. It is much too bright for their comfort. The Prince ensorcelled the chamber, filling it with sunlight drawn all the way from Solira. A powerful spell indeed, yet another display of his extraordinary gifts.

I don’t stop until I reach the solarium door. Even there, I refuse to look back at him, but simply wait until he approaches from behind, opens the door, and motions me inside. I step through, closing my eyes against the sudden glare. Despite the discomfort, it’s a pleasure to feel warm light on my skin. As I progress into the soft golden atmosphere and the verdant greenery of Queen Dasyra’s garden, at least some of the tension knotting my limbs begins to relax.

The Prince walks beside me, matching his stride to mine. His hands are clasped at the small of his back, his head up, his face a mask of bland leisure. One would never know that mere hours ago he’d faced down his own death at the hands of troll insurgents.

He turns his head suddenly, catching my studying gaze. I turn away only to walk into a large fern leaf. I stop, sputter, and push it away, painfully aware of the Prince’s amused silence all the while. Determined to reclaim my dignity, I shake my head, straighten my skirts, and turn at last to face him. “You must know why I wished to speak to you.”

His lips quirk slightly. “I have any number of suspicions.” To my utmost horror his gaze drops pointedly to my mouth. “And hopes.”

I clear my throat and take a backward step, once more bumping into the enormous fern. But I will not let him befuddle me. I will not be bested. “Why did you do that?”

His eyes lift to mine once again. He puckers his brows questioningly.

“Don’t play the innocent,” I snap. “You offered your life. Yourlife!You know very well they would have killed you. What were youthinking?”

“I was thinking of Khas who, as you may recall, was in dire straits.”

“Why didn’t you offer me instead?”

“Why do you think?” His voice drops an octave, rumbling low in my gut. For a moment, a shadow seems to come over his face, and his eyes burn with terrible intensity.

I turn away, wrapping my arms tight around my middle, and push on down the path, through the foliage, making for the fountain in the center of this chamber. “You shouldn’t be so reckless with your life. And how do you think you’re going to fulfill this promise to hand the city over to the trolls? You know perfectly well Vespre won’t survive without you.”

“Since when do you care so deeply about Vespre?”

I stop short, shoes skidding in the gravel path. “Don’t change the subject.”

“Very well.” He draws up beside me again, hands still clasped, and stares ahead through the greenery. The fountain is just visible now, bubbling merrily, its waters sparkling under the enchanted sunlight. “Since when did you start to thinkIcared so deeply about Vespre?”

“You’ve always cared. You’ve cared from the very start. You care so much, you were willing to bring me here, even when you never wanted to set eyes on me again. Even when you knew what I’d done.”

I feel rather than see the small, bitter smile curving his lips. “I always knew I would have to fetch you eventually. I couldn’t help myself.”

“What?”

He turns, looks down at me. I can’t bear to meet his gaze, but continue staring straight ahead, even as his eyes bore into the side of my face. “The knowledge that you were there in Aurelis—breathing the air of Eledria—was torture. During those five years you spent in Estrilde’s thrall, not a day went by that I did not think of you.”

My breath is tight and shallow. This is so not how I intended this conversation to go. I drop my lashes, study the toes of shoes, squeezing my arms tight as though to hold my very being together. “Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop . . . confusing me. I’m . . . I’m telling you, you can’t put yourself at risk like that. Not when so many people need you.”

“And who needs me exactly?”

“Mixael. Andreas.”

“And?”

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