Page 32 of Revert
His mouth twitched—not a smile, exactly, but a smirk that contained a mocking edge. “I thought my sister getting sold off to a cursed kingdom would be enough to show you the regard even children with royal blood possess.”
The bitterness threading through his otherwise emotionless tone caught me off guard. For a moment, he seemed to retreat inward, brows drawn as if assembling puzzle pieces I couldn’t see. My own thoughts scrambled to keep up. As far as I was aware, nothing had transpired in the archive room to rouse suspicion.
I flushed, remembering the way his fingers had barely brushed mine, the restraint in his touch…dangerous ground it would be in my best interest not to tread upon. I wrenched my wandering thoughts back to the problem at hand…a rather difficult task with the prince’s nearness tempting them to wander down perilous paths that I wasn’t sure how much longer I would be able to resist.
CHAPTER 10
Time seemed to slow, making me feel I was trapped in another timeline entirely. The longer Prince Castiel and I remained trapped together, the more precarious my resolve became. With each passing second the walls seemed to shrink further, making me even more aware of his proximity than I’d been before…and suddenly I wanted nothing more than to escape.
I had already searched the perimeter of the room for any sign of the ward’s weakness and found nothing, but I found myself prowling the walls again, too anxious to be still. Prince Castiel stood silently, though the tautness of his neck betrayed his own anxiety. His lips moved slightly as his eyes scanned the room; though I couldn’t read his lips I guessed he was trying to recall anything he’d learned about Thorndale magic and ways of overcoming it.
Finally I gave up, releasing a defeated sigh that was almost a sob as I stopped my frantic search. Minutes stretched thin, each one tightening the knot of tension inside me. I was achingly aware of his every sound—the faint rustle of his cloak, the quiet shift of his boots against the floor, the measured cadence of his breath, much slower and more even than mine. The airbetween us seemed to hum with unspoken thoughts, heavy and close. I tried to focus on anything else, but the prince’s nearness lingered like a pull at the edge of my senses, impossible to ignore.
I was determined to endure it patiently, but the longer we waited, the more I became distracted by a strange sensation stirring at the edges of my mind—a flicker of another time and another place rose unbidden, like emerging from the remnants of a forgotten dream from long ago.
The vision was faded, the details blurred like a washed-out painting, but I caught flashes of color and form: a silence not weighted with suspicion or fear, but soft—a stolen moment of near-touch, of laughter muffled behind a hand, of breathless glances exchanged in the dark. Most of all, the feel of our shoulders pressed against one another as we sat as closely as we dared…a nearness that had brought not tension, but comfort.
“Things are so different between us now.” The strange words left me, soft as breath. I couldn’t explain what they meant, nor where they’d come from.
His head snapped up and his eyes found mine, sharp with surprise. “What do you mean?” His usual flat tone was edged with unfamiliar urgency, tinged with an emotion I hadn’t hear from him before:hope.
I reached for the fragile wisps of faded recollection, but they drifted beyond my grasp, lost once more in a fog of forgetfulness. With a quick shake of my head, I tried to clear the haze. While the image slipped away, the nostalgia tinged with longing lingered. I wasn’t sure how to describe this to him, and felt a moment’s shyness at sharing.
“It’s nothing,” I murmured.
He didn’t press me, but his jaw tightened, like he was wrestling with some unspoken thought. For a heartbeat, something almost vulnerable flickered across his face, softeningthe sharp lines I’d come to expect…before he allowed his mask to slip back into place.
He retreated into that cold, carved stillness I’d come to expect. Silence settled between us once more, heavy with everything that had almost surfaced. The minutes bled together, slow and shapeless, melting into one another without distinction.
Eventually my knees wavered beneath me. Immediately his face softened, and he extended a hand. “You look tired. You should sit.”
I eyed it warily, determined to refuse…yet a quiet, treacherous part of me wavered. I was tempted to accept it, to test whether I’d imagined the strange flicker the last time his fingers brushed mine at the ball. But fear of what I might discover held me back and I stood still, caught in indecision.
His hand hovered a moment longer in silent question, but at my continued hesitation he let it drop. “You don’t have to accept my help, but we’ve been standing awhile. You should sit.”
I felt a flare of frustration that he had caught me in a moment of weakness. “You have no reason to be worried,” I said stiffly. “I’m fine.”
Stubbornness gave me the strength to resist several minutes more before I finally succumbed to the exhaustion causing my legs to ache. I sank to the floor, folding my skirts carefully as I drew my knees to my chest. He hesitated a moment before sitting as well, leaving several polite inches between us—not as close as that strange image that had unbidden slipped into my mind, but still far too near for comfort.
Try as I might to ignore him, the prince seduced my rebellious gaze—first to his aggravatingly handsome profile, and then irresistibly deeper into the quiet struggle flickering beneath his otherwise impassive mask. He shifted slightly, as if restless, casting brief, uncertain glances in my direction.
“Fidgeting is unbecoming for a prince. Is there something you want to say?” I finally asked, unable to bear his strange behavior a moment longer.
He started slightly and cleared his throat. “I thought…since we’re trapped here…we could…”
I waited for him to continue, but that seemed to be the extent of his conversation. “We could…?” I prompted.
He ran a hand through his hair, keeping his gaze determinedly fixed on the far wall. “There are many things we’ve been unable to discuss.”
My body tensed as all my recent, suspicious behavior rushed to the front of my mind—being caught in corridors I wasn’t supposed to wander, my secret meeting with a mysterious contact, the coded message he’d found in the conservatory.
His eyes flicked to my stiff posture and a faint crease pulled between his brows. “Why do you look so nervous?”
“Forgive me for not looking forward to an interrogation,” I said dryly. “I know intimidation is your primary hobby, but being questioned isn’t exactly something I look forward to. Though I must commend you for your efficiency in using our time while trapped for an interrogation.”
He blinked, appearing momentarily confused. His eyes widened. “No, I—that’s not my intention.”
Now it was my turn to be frown. “What else could you possibly want to discuss? Conversation is such a rare occurrence between us that I’m afraid I’m at a loss.”
