Page 29 of To Sway a Prince
The dark poetry of dying in part because of something that had been done to harm another was not lost on me. "It sounds like a dangerous curse."
"It is." He cut his gaze back to me. "And beyond that, you should be cautious. Whenever someone tampers with a curse, there is the risk that it will have unintended side effects on the one who interferes."
"I know that well," I responded. My heart tightened. "Anyone who interferes with a curse risks that the curse comes upon them or fulfills in a new way. It's the risk of being a knotweaver." And I had seen just how devastating it could be. "But sometimes it is simply too dangerous to allow it to remain."
"Mine has been a part of me for so long I can scarcely remember life without it." He stared at me now unblinking. "I will not fault you if you don't want to continue with this. I don't want to harm you. Sometimes all we can do is our best and then we must let it be. I am at peace if this is where I end. It is not necessary for you to risk yourself."
"If I undo the knots, then the power evaporates," I said. "I just have to be right about what I undo. And I will be. If there's a central thread, which I'm sure it will, then removing that will be enough to unravel it. I can also loosen these knots in an emergency and give you more breath. Was the witch who put this on you truly unable to remove any aspect of it?"
"She said the magic twisted because my father and mother and uncle attempted to remove it, but later she also admitted that in her rage, it had warped beyond her capabilities. She did apologize though."
I scoffed, placing the now empty cup on the table. "As if that did any good."
The small nod he gave suggested he had been through this many times before. His manner was of a man who had accepted what had happened and now worked to make the most of what remained. "I appreciated the sentiment nonetheless." Setting the teacup down, he sighed. "Are you ready to begin?"
I nodded.
He removed his surcoat and tunic, folding each one and setting it on the table. Then he removed his boots and stretched out on the couch, his head resting on the velvet armrest. It was a serious moment, and I tried not to let my thoughts drift, but thread rot, the man was exceptionally handsome. His muscles were as perfect as if they had been sculpted from marble. A few scars etched across his chest and back. Knowing the kind of fae he was, he had chosen to keep their appearance. That small bit of vanity made me smile. And they certainly drew attention to the broad planes of his torso and the sharp v's at his waist.
Kneeling beside him, I stretched out my hand and reached out with my aura as well. The gold light lit up his chest, highlighting the dark bonds and vicious knots. My stomach twisted. I would not wish this on my worst enemy. It was even worse than it had seemed at the start. The knots themselves weresmall, bound and twisted in such a way that they surely hurt him constantly even if all he did was breathe.
He closed his eyes for a moment as if steadying himself when I placed my hand above his heart.
"You're in pain."
"The discomfort is not because of you," he said firmly, despite the faint strain in his voice at the end.
I shook my head and leaned in closer, my fingers pressing lightly against his flesh. A frown creased my brow. These didn't simply surround his heart, some pierced it. And some of the strands were layered and then knotted together. I swallowed hard, then flexed my fingers. "This will not be pleasant."
"But you're here. That makes it better." That small smile of his made my stomach flip, but I gave him a sharp look.
"Just stay steady." I swallowed hard and then drew in another deep breath. Carefully I searched over his heart with my aura, flexing my fingers and directing my energy over him. Not piercing. Not cutting. Nothing except examining.
"Thread rot," I breathed, unable to keep the shock from my voice. Never had I seen such a brutal weaving, a complex lattice of suffering and cruelty. It constricted the flow of his own magic far more than I'd ever thought possible.
"Your confidence inspires me."
I cut my gaze back up to his. And when our eyes met, I knew that this was already clear to him. He did not have real hope that I could help him. He was simply allowing me to see this part of his life…the very short breadth of what remained for him. So many questions rose within me. "I will help you," I vowed. Then I flexed my fingers over the bonds.
For almost an hour, I searched in near silence. He did not protest at my proddings, though his jaw sometimes twitched. A curse like this had a central thread, but it was guarded. There were a couple ways to potentially handle this, but first…I focusedon the smallest knot at the end. Removing my pale gold blade, I held it above his heart and directed my own magic in. The knot pulsed, its light a sickly shade. Carefully I separated his energy from the knot itself, ensuring that only the witch's magic remained in that knot. Then I cut.
The knot snapped free, taking four small strands with it. Two rejoined, forming a straight line while the other two did not. I gave a small gasp of delight as I held the severed knot aloft.
"Astraia!" He sat up, gesturing toward my hand.
The four strands snapped around my wrist, trying to burrow into my flesh.
13
KNOTS
Iwinced, biting back a pained cry as the threads thrashed at my wrist and tightened, the ends poking hard.
Ramiel grasped my arm and placed the base of his palm just below the threads. Light flared from his hand. At the same time, I channeled my own energy back up into the threads, severing them. They tightened around my wrist again, then died.
Wincing, I cut them free with my blade. Though it was dull to cutting flesh, it excelled at slicing through these magical fibers. They vanished after a moment though the sting remained.
"That is concerning," Ramiel said, his voice grimmer than I'd heard it before now.
