Page 41 of Enslaved

He smirks. “Didn’t think to pack any provisions in that satchel of yours, did you?”

“I did not expect this adventure to take so long.”

To his credit, the Prince doesn’t jump at the opportunity to mock me for my lack of foresight. He merely sighs and shakes his head slowly, his mouth quirked in a half-smile. “There should be food in the ruins of the great house on the other side of the island. Long ago, when Roseward was a prison, there was an enchantment in place to keep food fresh and replenishing. The worker of that enchantment is now dead, but it may not have faded entirely yet. It will take some time for me to walk there, but in the meanwhile . . .” He reaches out to touch my garments and frowns. “Don’t put these on before they’re completely dry. I won’t have you undoing all my hard work bringing you back from the brink.”

I stare down into my teacup again. “Shouldn’t you take the wyvern? It’ll make your journey swifter.”

“No. Keep the beast close to you. Roseward was abandoned long ago, but that doesn’t mean new beings and beasts haven’t made their way to these shores. I won’t leave you alone.” Turning abruptly, he strides across the shadowy chamber to a low door set in the crumbling wall.

A surge of panic stirs in my gut. “Wait!” I cry and stand, stepping around the sleeping form of the wyvern. Too late do I remember that I’m wearing nothing but his coat. It’s long, sweeping down well past my knees, but doesn’t cover my bare feet and ankles. I pull it tightly around me, biting my lip as the Prince turns to look back at me. “I . . . um. Won’t you need this? It’s still raining outside.”

His gaze flicks down the length of me. For a moment, I can’t help feeling all over again the warmth of his hands pressed against my body, urging magic into my skin. Heat prickles in my gut, swirls through my limbs until I’m almost dizzy with it. Hastily I brace myself, refusing to duck my head, to turn away from him.

The Prince’s eyes slowly return to meet mine. “Keep it. You have more need of it than I at the moment. I’ll return soon.”

He hesitates. I wait, heart in my throat. Then, with a shake of his head, he turns for the door, opens it. I expect him to be gone the next moment. Instead he pauses, one hand gripping the doorframe. His jaw works, as though he’s fighting some inner battle.

At last he looks up again, catching my eye. “You fought valiantly,” he says. “While I may not understand your hellbent need to liberate Doctor Gale, I cannot fault your courage. There’s not one woman in a thousand who would have been brave enough to venture into the Deep Realm. You’re a mad fool. The maddest fool I’ve ever met.” He stops. For a moment the tension in his forehead relaxes, and he gazes at me like I’m . . . like I’m some sort of incredible mystery. A wonder. A dream.

Then he’s gone. Stepped out into the pouring rain, the door shut firmly behind him.

The wyvern’s gentle purring combined with the flickering comfort of the fire soon lulls me. I set aside my tea half-finished, put my head down, and drift off into a half-waking dream. Though I remain aware of the stone walls around me, of the rain pounding against the door, the rise and fall of the wyvern’s side as it breathes . . .

I also see myself walking through the gates of Vespre Palace, side-by-side with the Prince. Twilight stars gleam overhead as though welcoming me home. A shout from above, and I look up to see the children waving at me from a high window. Sis gives a wild yell and begins to climb right out onto the sill, heedless of the danger, while her three brothers scramble to pull her back inside.

A laugh bubbles up from deep inside me. Soon I’ll be home.Home.Soon I’ll be seated on the floor of my own room, the children crowded around me, telling me in excruciating detail about every moment of their day, while Lir fusses and feeds me supper, and the Prince . . . the Prince . . .

He’ll be there too, of course. He’ll pull up a comfortable chair, lounging like a cat, watching me through half-lidded eyes. And he’ll smile. Because he’ll know I’ve finally allowed myself to have the one thing I’ve truly needed all these long weary years: rest.

Selfish.

I wince. The image in my mind fades. I’m back on the hard floor of the abandoned lighthouse. The wyvern has gone. I don’t know where. Though I don’t open my eyes, I can tell the fire has died down. There’s no light shining through my eyelids. Coldness and damp and darkness surround me. I squeeze my eyes tighter, trying to reclaim that dream. But I can’t.

Because I’m not alone. Not anymore.

A figure crouches in the darkest corner of the room. I see her with my eyes shut. Huddled and small, dark hair covering her face. Her bent back is to me, and she rocks slowly back and forth. As she rocks, her voice echoes hollowly against the stone walls:

I never gave up.

Not even in the darkest hours.

I always believed there was a way to save him.

I never, ever, ever gave up.

I wasn’t selfish.

Selfish . . .

. . . selfish . . .

She turns her head, peering over her hunched shoulder. Black hair parts, revealing one sewn-up eye socket. Her lips curl back in a snarling hiss.

Selfish.

With a lurch, I open my eyes and push up onto my elbows. My heart throbs. Was I asleep? I’d thought I only dozed, but apparently I’d drifted off. The wyvern’s warmth is no longer at my back, but a snuffling snort draws my gaze across the room where I spy its white, graceful form with its snout down an old barrel. Searching for a snack, no doubt.

A shiver runs up my spine. I cast a quick glance to the darkest corner of the room. Still half-expecting to see the huddled, hunched-over form. There’s nothing, of course. Nothing but shadows.

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