Page 35 of The Captive's Curse
Sinking back on my heels, I numbly watched the fire as it hissed and spat and settled at last. A basket by the hearth held logs. I added a few, watched them catch, tried to calm myself as the screaming went on outside the door. Gods, he needed to shut up soon, or I’d lose my mind and start screaming back at him.
At last the fire looked like it might survive on its own, and I shoved up to my feet and turned to examine the rest of the room.
I blinked, thinking perhaps I’d hallucinated.
Nothing changed. It was still, very obviously, Enzo’s bedroom. The shirt he’d been wearing earlier hung over the back of a chair, the sleeves still rolled. I hated myself for recognizing it, as if I’d been so attuned to everything about him that no detail had escaped me. And now that I’d started paying attention, the scent of him permeated the room, too: steel and rich spices and leather. I’d carried it with me all day, ingrained into my skin no matter how excessively I heated my bath water, so I hadn’t noticed any change when I came in here.
And of course, Mad Lord Vincenzo had been something of a distraction.
But this was undoubtedly Enzo’s bedroom.
Fuck. My magic had led me toEnzo’s bedroom.
And to his bed. Huge and elaborately carved, hung with midnight blue velvet curtains, it dominated the room. I blinkedagain, more slowly this time. The Mad Lord screeched. I winced, but didn’t have the energy for more.
Now that my flush of panic had well and truly faded, I was bruised and dizzy, terribly thirsty and demoralized, and utterly exhausted in body and in spirit. I’d be asleep on my feet in a moment, even with the Mad Lord still howling around the hallway.
Well. On the one hand, Enzo would surely come back to this room and rescue me eventually, as long as he hadn’t managed to get himself inconveniently killed. So I wouldn’t die here after all. Obviously he had some way of dealing with the ghost if he slept here every night.
On the other hand, he’d find me locked in his bedroom with no good explanation for how or why I’d taken refuge in here, specifically. Well, he could go jump in a lake if he had an issue with it. He insisted on claiming some kind of authority over this castle? Fine. He could claim responsibility for all of its inhabitants, including the dead ones.
I staggered to the dressing table, where I found a pitcher of stale but clean water, and I guzzled most of it down, dripping quite a bit from my chin onto my chest. Ugh. At least Enzo wasn’t here to see that.
And then I wobbled the six feet or so to the bed and collapsed into it, retaining just enough presence of mind to kick off my boots and drag the heavy quilt over me.
The Mad Lord didn’t quiet down at all, damn him. Had I really been so determined and eager to find some evidence of his existence for my song? Had I been that stupid?
“No wonder someone cursed you,” I muttered. “You’re a fucking asshole.” I pulled a pillow over my head to drown out his renewed shrieks, and passed out.
It was the sudden silence that woke me, some indeterminate number of hours later. I shoved the pillow off my face and pushed up on an elbow, blinking into the…faint gray light from the window? Dawn had almost come, then. Had that been what sent the Mad Lord packing? But no, it’d still been daylight when he jumped out at me. Whatever priestly doctrines decreed that ghosts preferred Dromos’s dominion to Ennolu’s, Vincenzo hadn’t read them.
Not a shock. I hadn’t taken him for the pious type.
Well, who fucking cared, anyway. He’d shut up at last. I subsided back down into Enzo’s pillows—much nicer ones than the lumps on my bed. Selfish bastard. I snuggled down, savoring the warmth and the slight rustle of linen in the quiet…
Quick footsteps rang out, a key rattled in the lock, and I flipped upright like a startled hare just in time to see the door swing open and Enzo stride in, bringing a waft of that cool air and freshness that accompanied someone coming into a stuffy room from the outdoors. Pine and petrichor…but also mud, sweat, and horse. Plenty of the former visibly spattered his boots and clothing.
He stopped dead as our eyes met. His were unreadably dark. Thick stubble covered his cheeks and jaw, and his hair had been blown about into something resembling a bird’s nest. The leather wrapped around his sword hilt bore stains suggesting he’d wielded it very recently. I’d always preferred sophisticated, elegantly handsome men. Before Enzo,scruffy and dangeroushad never set my heart pounding and my cock stirring.
I bloody well missed the time before Enzo. My fists clenched in the blanket.
“I wasn’t stupid enough to expect you to be waiting for me by the gate all eager to see me ride home again,” he said at last, after a long pause. “But I suppose waiting in my bed is even more flattering. Even though I left the door securely locked.”
“You suppose,” I choked, barely able to form words to respond to such idiocy. Not stupid enough? Hah! Of course, he wasn’t alone in that. My heavy head ached and I couldn’t seem to form a coherent thought. “You suppose that I would—I’m only here because of that thrice-damned asshole ghost! Whom you could’ve warned me about, you know? You think I’m here because, because—” I sputtered into silence. His eyebrows rose. “Because I was waiting for you?” I finished lamely. “Ugh. Not a chance. I didn’t care if you went and got yourself killed.”
Enzo sighed, shook his head, and left the door open behind him as he crossed the room toward the fire and began to unbuckle his sword.
“First of all, I didn’t see the need to warn you about something that wouldn’t bother you unless you went snooping somewhere you weren’t welcome,” he said in a mild tone that set my teeth on edge. And…not welcome? In his bed? After the way he’d…oh, what a bastard! “Although I should’ve known you wouldn’t wait for an invitation. And second, I’m not sure how you ended up in here because of a ghost. That’s not the most convincing excuse, Lord Cyril.”
“He—he chased me! This lock opened when I touched it. It’s not my fault your room has the worst lock in the hallway.” There was no way in hell I’d be telling him that his door had drawn me and my magic like a moth to an especially pretty candle flame. “And what did you expect me to do, let him eat me?”
I flung the quilt off and swung my legs over the side of the bed, instantly regretting it. The room had gone frigid overnight. But I couldn’t simply sit here and put up with his nonsense.
“Eatyou? What the fuck do you think ghosts—”
“And I’m taking these with me!” I snatched up two of his pillows and clutched them to my chest. “The ones in my bedroom are dreadful.”
Enzo leaned his scabbarded sword, now wrapped neatly in its belt, against his wardrobe in the corner and took a menacing step in my direction, eyes narrowed. “Gods help you if you try to walk out of here with my pillows, Lord Cyril,” he growled.
