Page 414 of Primal Bonds

Olivia moved a slim shoulder. “Then we’ll offer him something he wants more.” She pulled a gleaming iron dagger from a hidden pocket in her dress. “Meanwhile, I had one of our smiths make you this. It’s bespelled.”

Dion set down the coffee cup and took it by the ebony handle. Energy shivered up his hand. “A powerful spell.”

Olivia inclined her head. “It will slice through any spell the prince casts at you.”

He slipped it into his back pocket. “Thank you, my lady.”

Dion pulled Cleia closer, and the three of them gazed at the fog-covered court.

His fingers tightened on Cleia’s waist. A sun fae’s metabolism burned hot, and Deus knew, he needed heat right now. He was chilled to the bone.

“Tell me she’s getting enough to eat,” he rasped. “Tell me he’s allowing her to shift to her dolphin.” According to Rui and Fane, New Moon was crisscrossed by creeks and streams. There was even a pond big enough for Rosana to swim.

“Of course, he is,” Cleia said. “He knows a water fada will die if she’s kept from the water.”

Olivia made a small sound of dissent.

“What?” asked Dion.

“He may not consider that to a fada, time in a fae court can pass differently.”

Cleia’s gold-touched skin paled. “It depends on the fada.”

Olivia inclined her pointed chin in that cool manner she had, but Dion had seen her with his sister. In her own way, the fae lady loved Rosana. “Some adjust to our time, but others find it difficult.”

“She’s fine,” Cleia stated firmly. “He wouldn’t dare harm her.”

Dion’s growl came from the darkest, primal heart of him. “I hope you’re right,” he said in a carrying voice. “Because if Langdon hurts her, he’s dead.”

Chapter 38

In the never-ending twilight of the cell, day and night blended together. Adric had no idea how much time had passed—one day? three days?—before the night fae finally ’ported them some food.

He fell on it, his starving body needing calories, and watched, worried, as Rosana just picked at hers. But after that, meals came on a regular basis: fish chowder for her, steak for him, fresh fruit and vegetables, crusty homemade bread.

They slept, woke, plotted. He paced the cell, nerves stretched taut at their continuing confinement in the small, dark space.

His quartz had completely recharged—another clue that in the outside world, more time had passed than they knew. He gave Rosana what healing energy he could, but it was her life-energy that was fading, and he wasn’t healer enough to fix that.

She grew weaker, edgier. She took to pacing the cell along with him, and when they curled up to rest, she felt warm, which was all wrong for a river fada.

And when was the last time she’d eaten?

Then the day came when she didn’t get up at all, just lay curled up next to the water trough, fingers playing in the meager trickle, her breath so light, it was almost inaudible.

He bent to stroke her cheek. It was dry, feverish. Even though he’d blocked the bond, he felt her receding from him.

“Angel,” he said brokenly.

“Amo-te,” she whispered. Love you.

He briefly closed his eyes—and then rose to his feet.

“Prince Langdon!” He stood in the center of the cell, spine erect, hands clenched at his sides. Prepared to do anything, even accept the bastard’s geas, in exchange for Rosana’s life. “Come to me—please. I’m begging you.”

Rosana lifted her head to hiss, “No, Rick!”

He ignored her to loudly repeat the prince’s name. “Langdon! Are you there?”

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