Page 30 of To Sway a Prince
I raised an eyebrow. "More concerning than the fact that they are killing you?" I rubbed my wrist. "As far as I'm concerned, this is just wretched magic trying not to die. It's easy enough to manage." My skin prickled and stung from the patch, and a sharp sensation cut through me, fear piercing my heart. "It's not the first time I've seen something like this."
"Are you all right?" he asked. His brow was still furrowed, and his hand curled over my arm, just below the point where the threads had tried to burrow in.
"Yes. I'm fine." The heat flared stronger within me, and I thought about tugging away. Yet I didn't move. "It's fine."
He gave a noncommittal hum, his gaze fastened on my wrist still. "Did it hurt you?"
"No." I planted my hand firmly against his shoulder and pressed him back. "But it will kill you if we don't deal with it."
His eyebrow twitched. "Look at you taking control."
I clicked my tongue, but that pleasant heat flared through me again. Thread rot, I was lonely. This was not the time to be getting all moony about this man. Though I had to focus a little more, I pressed my aura out again and highlighted the cursed strands. "Even with what you did, one of the strands did not grow back. Two grew back immediately. One grew back after you helped me. But one did not. That means we have an advantage."
That dark chuckle of his made me burn all the more. "Assuming nothing changes."
"Stop being so dour and let me work." I pretended not to notice just how handsome he was as my fingers stroked lines along his chest and sought out the next weakest knot. My preference would have been to go straight to the central knot and central thread, but I couldn't even spot it. Instead I continued working and succeeded in removing another smaller knot. It glowed, resisted, and then cut against me. This time I removed it even faster and dissolved the energy that remained.
The threads still coiled around my wrist and tried to bite and cut, the strands surprisingly sharp even though I tried to cut them as bluntly as possible. Ramiel tensed more at those moments, watching every movement of the threads and sometimes putting his hand over mine to destroy the threads. "You don't have to do this," he said after the fourth one.
The heat between us intensified. My mouth was going dry. I moistened my lips with my tongue as I leaned closer, steadyingmyself with one hand splayed across his chest and the other directing my energy toward the knots. "No. But I want to."
"Are you in pain?"
My eyebrow arched like his as I tilted my head, the blade loose between my fingers. "Ramiel, you are the one whose heart is bound in cursed knots that defy standard magic. If we should be worried about anyone?—"
He scoffed at this, cutting me off. Concern still shone in his eyes. "I am aware of what my fate is likely to be. I never wanted to drag anyone else into it with me."
As he crooked his arm back behind his head, I noted the charm on his pendant. Small. Likely disguised. A suppression charm. His magic was wavering at the moment. I found a faint but sad smile tugging at my mouth.
As I removed another four strands, they snapped along my wrist and tried to cut. One scraped especially deep. I winced and destroyed it. Damn it. That one did hurt more.
"You know, you really should consider working with a spindle for this," he said. "Give the magic something else to latch onto."
"I don't work with spindles," I said firmly.
He propped himself more on his side, angling toward me. His brow scrunched. "A knotweaver who doesn't use spindles at all? How do you manage the longer cursed threads?"
"I destroy them." There were a few techniques I had mastered over the years, but generally speaking I simply avoided working with such curses. My blade helped a lot.
His frown deepened as he contemplated this. "There's little sense in?—"
"I don't work with spindles." I didn't care if the threads left me bloodied. So long as I lived, I never wanted to see a spindle or a spinning wheel. My stomach twisted, my throat knotting with emotion. I tried to swallow it, but a mist of tears blurred my eyes."Just leave it be, Ramiel. We both know I'm not in danger from this. It's just uncomfortable. If it turns out I need a spindle, we'll figure something else out."
Though his eyes narrowed, he gave a small nod. Concern. That was what was in his eyes. And I hated it. Because I wanted to explain. And now wasn't the time.
I leaned in, putting my face closer to the cursed threads and trying desperately to focus on that.
It was a slow process, and the tediousness of it all made it hard to not let my thoughts drift. I needed to talk about something else—something that didn't involve me. "Did you start wearing suppression charms after you realized you couldn't escape the curse?"
His eyebrows lifted at this question. Then he gave a slow nod. "Yes. And usually I keep it hidden. You have a good eye if you saw through that enchantment."
"Your skills are a little sapped at the moment," I said, offering a small smile. "Who was she? Did you meet her and then decide this? Or is it just a precautionary measure?" An odd bit of jealousy curled within me. Foolish, I knew. It wasn't as if he would ever choose someone like me. So why be jealous at all?
"No," he said softly, eyes shaded as he drifted in thought. "No. I knew from the time I was a youth that I had a mate. I was the only one in my family to have one foretold by destiny, though others in my family of course found happiness and love. But I…I had someone intended for me. Only one person intended for me. Then I learned that if I wed and had children of my own, the curse would pass to them as well. And when I learned how swiftly the bonds were tightening and the dangers that it brought with it, I knew I could not sentence anyone to such a fate. Especially not the one person I was supposed to protect and love above all others."
I tugged at the knots, my heart clenching. The subjects of mates and love and happiness were complicated and nuanced among the fae. To have a mate carried with it expectations and sacred duties. "You sound like you love her." And a small part of me whimpered to admit that. It was a beautiful thing. A respectable thing. And all I could think of was how I wanted someone to feel that for me. It would not be hard for me to feel that for someone…someone like…
He nodded his head. "I do," he said, his voice quiet. "I love her even though I can never have her. She is far too beautiful and wondrous to be shackled to death."
