Page 25 of To Sway a Prince
I didn't know precisely what this magic was, but I had seen similar curses more times than I wanted. This was a curse with a particular trigger. Each time it was triggered, it drew in tighter. Eventually his heart would cease beating altogether, and then his spirit would be severed from his body. Probably trapped in some liminal space until the end of time.
A door several feet away opened, then shut. A roughly human form appeared at the corner, little more than mist and shadow. It held a chest and a large volume. Its feet stuck to the floor,struggling to hold together any form of cohesion and rising and falling in height. "T-take," Caein said with great effort.
I gently shifted Ramiel, wadding the rug up to serve as a makeshift cushion for his head, and hurried over. The Nolche lurched, his rough approximation of hands shaking. Glasses rattled within the chest. They weighed more than I expected, but as soon as I had hold of them, Caein vanished with a gasp of relief. "Open to the black ribbon. Use the vials to trace the runes over his heart."
Hugging the book and chest close, I returned to Ramiel. Though his breaths were a little steadier, that blue tinge in his lips and fingertips remained, his eyes glassy. I swallowed hard as I opened the lid. "That thing was pure evil." Inside were about a dozen vials of thick but colorful liquid, somewhere between the consistency of ink and paint.
"Yes," Ramiel said weakly. His head dropped back against the rug again, a weak cough shaking his body.
I opened the book and set it on the ground beside me, flipping it open to the black ribbon. It had been opened here so many times that the musty pages went there of their own accord.
The page held a detailed painting of three runes to be painted on the afflicted person. Complicated but manageable. But my blood chilled when I saw what they were. They weren't healing runes. They weren't cures. All they did was push back the effects of the curse. The Wyrdcleft Seal. One of the thirteen Grave Bane Runic Spells.
"Hurry," Caein urged. "There isn't much time." The air shimmered roughly near his voice.
Steeling myself, I removed the corks from each of the vials, pulled back the fabric of Ramiel's tunic, and painted the marks on his chest. Each rune had particular cuts and bents, the small flourishes more detailed than what I usually worked with. And each one required at least three colors with the final onerequiring five. As I worked, I prayed and filled my thoughts and gestures with petitions for healing. That the Creator of All would hear and have mercy.
And I meant it. I meant every word. Even though sometimes I wondered if I was heard. So many prayers had been answered in silence and death.
What nearly broke me was seeing how far along this curse was. The bonds and the knots were so tight around his heart that I did not see how he was even breathing at all. My paltry attempts to provide relief had eased them only a little.
He remained still, glassy eyes fixed on the ceiling.
Caein murmured words of encouragement and direction. I held my breath, my breaths cramped until Ramiel's lips returned to their natural color and his breaths loosed. Somehow. Even with those knots still bound around his heart. "Thank you," he gasped, his voice strained and rough.
"You're still in pain," I said. It wasn't a question. I knew what that kind of spellwork did to a person.
He cut his gaze to mine, his eyes half shaded. Even with the dark circles beneath his eyes, the sweat on his brow, and his overall disheveled appearance, he was painfully beautiful. "I am alive. And that is thanks to you. Even though I told you not to come. The omenfang could have turned on you."
The way he said that made me ache. I wasn't even sure why. He said it as if that would somehow make it worse. "I don't leave people to fight alone."
"Sometimes there's no other choice." He pressed his hands down against the rug and sat up slowly. A low groan escaped him. "Should have known you would use the dragon platform."
"Ramiel, you need to rest," Caein said, his voice concentrating over Ramiel's head. "I will see to the wards and sigils."
Ramiel lifted his hand. He swayed a little, then steadied himself against the wall. "You needn't fuss."
Before I even thought about it, I was at his side, my arm at his trim waist and his arm resting across the back of my shoulders as Caein continued to speak. The nearness and heat coming off him startled me. His pleasant cedar and silver scent had returned, evidence of his magic. Not even the scent of adrenaline or sweat remained. That crispness combined with the earthy woodiness into a soothing combination. Probably some spell of his. I certainly had my own. In my early months of dragon riding, I had used vanilla and jasmine. Then I'd realized people didn't take me seriously. Vanilla and jasmine were the scent of a peacetime princess or at least of a woman who was safe. After it exposed me to an attack, I'd settled for making my scent neutral. Or at least as neutral as possible. My magic sometimes smelled like cashmere, and I loved when that lingered. There was even a faint trace of it now.
I froze then, realizing that I was pressed up against him and he was standing there with his hand hovering over my shoulder as if not sure whether to fully rest against me or push me away. "You were going to fall," I said. My cheeks burned. Caein had stopped speaking, and the air was heavier now.
"I suppose I was." His gaze drifted over my face, dropping briefly to my lips before returning to my eyes. His arm started to relax against my shoulders, his fingers brushing my skin. Everything within me tightened.
"You should probably rest like Caein said." My mouth had gone dry.
His throat bobbed. "Perhaps."
"Do you want me to help you to your room?"
"You want to come to my room?"
I hadn't meant it to sound so salacious. But the way he asked that with that low voice of his and half-shaded eyes suddenlymade it sound so much worse. The tension rose, burning in my cheeks and core, humming in the air. "I just—I know you need to rest. So…it doesn't have to be your room. Anywhere you'd be comfortable."
Caein cleared his throat. "I will go and tend to the dragons. They have been unusually quiet. I suspect they understand more than might be assumed." A soft rustle in the air sounded above us. I couldn't drag my gaze from Ramiel's though. He simply nodded, his fingers brushing tortuously over my shoulder again.
Heat rose to my cheeks, my heart quickening. As I focused, I heard his. It beat almost as fast as mine, even with the knots around it. "I just want you to be all right," I murmured.
His fingers curled along the curve of my shoulder, sending sparks through my body. The air hummed and drew me deeper into the moment. His purple eyes darkened, pupils expanding as they fixed on my lips. He leaned closer, the scent of frosted silver and cedar enveloping me and mingling with notes of cashmere from my magic.
