Page 83 of Cursed Evermore
My words stumped her and I almost felt bad. I was being rude now, but I didn’t care. She wasn’t the one sitting on the floor with a magical shackle around her wrist. Nor was she at the mercy of the devil.
“Okay. That’s understandable.” She gave me a curt nod. “But I’m still offering you my listening ear and a person to talk to if you need me.”
Again, I didn’t answer.
“I’d love to tell you about Vaelthorne and the mage realms. Or just talk. I turn twenty-two in two months, so I’m not that much older than you. In the meantime, please eat something and change out of those clothes. We’re about to sail through colder waters.”
“I don't want anything from him. Or you.” I turned away and gazed through the window. Beyond the thick glass, frost spiraled across the window in delicate patterns as if it heard her warning and wanted to caution me, too, of the cold waters ahead.
“You’ll suffer if you don’t eat or change out of that dress.”
“I’m already suffering.” I said the words more to myself than to her, then I looked at her and tried to hold back the tears that were burning the backs of my eyes. “Please, leave me alone. Please just go and don’t come back. Tell your master not to send any more food, either, and that I don’t want his damn clothes.”
The finality in my tone was palpable. Arielle gazed at me for a heartbeat before dipping her head again then backing away.
I turned from her retreating form and fixed my gaze on the endless expanse of sea so I wouldn’t see her leave.
Softly, the door's click echoed through the chamber. And in my chest.
A single tear trailed down my cheek. All this time, I hadn’t cried. I'd held my tears at bay, but I couldn’t help it now. Theweight of everything had tumbled on my shoulders, and I was sinking.
But… my spirit wasn’t broken yet.
I still had some fight left in me that pushed me to hold on and believe that somewhere in this mess of lies and magic, my life was worth saving.
I needed to stay strong and fight against the curse that stole my memories, the father who'd damned me, and the prince who'd claimed me as his prisoner.
There might be very little I could do to help myself right now. That didn’t mean I shouldn’t keep my head screwed on and keep my eyes open for a way out.
Whatever Wolfe had planned for me, I needed to be ready to protect myself and run when I had the chance to flee.
It couldn’t be like last time. Next time, I needed to be sure I could escape. And I hoped like hell that I could be free before my next memory reset.
If I could get myself back to Stormfell, I’d be able to tell my family what I’d learned. Then we could find Father together. If he was alive.
Gods. No matter what he’d done, I hoped he was alive. And if he was, maybe I could save him.
It might not be right for me to want to save him, but he was my father. My kind-hearted, loving father, who would do anything for me. I had to know his reasons for this catastrophe.
And I couldn’t give up on him any more than I hoped to be free of Wolfe Nightblade.
Chapter 16
Wolfe
“What Remains Is Her”
Morning light filtered through the stained-glass windows of the meeting room, casting fractured patterns across the table where we were gathered.
Everyone was here already when I arrived. The silence, tense and thick as tar, had coiled through the air, refusing to shift.
I sat straighter in my chair, studying each face before me. Bastian's hardened features betrayed his concern. Alaric's sharp eyes reflected my own determination. Garrick's stoic presence remained a steady anchor. And Arielle's delicate form appeared more fragile today.
I'd woken hours before sunrise, mulling over ideas until I'd finally pieced together something resembling a plan.
“I’ve come up with a spell that should work. But it will require testing,” I announced.
“What is it?” Alaric asked with the same eagerness he’d displayed last night.
