I think of the poem he recited that time we were in the Sisterhood’s Enclave. Something about finding softness in the world around me. Now I wonder if that will ever be possible again.
Everything that came before my departure to the elven lands feels like a dream. Getting to know him, being with him, watching him open up to me and feeling myself bloom in response…it was all a lie.
And it is over.
A disgusted groan comes from the stranger in my mind, and it shuts down the daydream. It shocks me so totally that the trembling ceases, and I am transported back to the world around me.
One where I am supposed to be running.
Pushing off the tree, I do just that. As my feet pound the ground, it jostles my confidence how unsettled I feel about giving my body over to the curse.
It isn’t a pleasant thing to share a body with a bloodthirsty force, but I’m not ungrateful. Honestly, I’m confused by how the woman is able to communicate so frequently with me at all.
I can almost feel Cursed One listening to my thoughts, observing them from some unfeeling side, but still deciding not to respond. Or simply, she had the same questions that now plague me and is no closer to answers.
As I run past tree after tree, a weight recedes from my shoulders, replacing my anxiety over my lack of a plan. Where can I even go from here?
Out of nowhere, a branch lifts. My foot catches on it and I tumble face-first onto the ground. A feeling of weightlessness seconds before the teeth-chattering collision with the layers of underbrush and unforgiving ground makes my body zing. The sensation ripplesthrough me with a deep, aching pain that steals my breath and leaves me unable to stand.
“Fucking hell.” A crisp, annoyingly articulate voice draws my attention away from the throbbing pain in my temple.
I groan in response as Thorne’s hand reaches down and grabs my shoulder, not too gently rolling me over and pushing me up to a sitting position.
“What the hell was that?” I grit out.
He ignores me. Instead, he pulls me to my feet and steps around me, inspecting my dress, which is now stained, torn, and otherwise mistreated. A flicker of what he said earlier about Arion being doubly displeased if my dress was ruined returns, and I finally have the good sense to be worried.
“I hope you’ve gotten that out of your system, because we won’t allow for a repeat runaway bride situation. We won’t tolerate it if you continue to cause chaos—this isn’t the troll court.”
I study his green eyes as he speaks—the eyes of a traitor. The fear has softened, but confusion remains. I don’t know whether it would be better to continue with my plan to find a physician or to warn Enduvida. One thing is for certain, I don’t want Thorne to tell the king he saw me running.
Should we…I begin.
No.The being’s voice returns. Frustrated.We cannot hurt him.
So I must go?
Unless you find it in you to fight him without my help, but even then, there is a possibility that the spells that bind me would restrain you. There’s little chance he won’t tell Arion everything you’ve done.
Fuck.
Agreed.
Then I will stay. I am a weak woman. I don’t have the power to do as much as I’d like…but I am all that stands between Arion and Enduvida right now. As I search Thorne’s eyes, I remind myself of the amount of strength it takes to do the right thing.
I don’t want to, but Icando this.
“I’m going to need to change before I meet His Majesty,” I say simply, not offering any further explanation.
He arches one eyebrow, as if surprised by my lack of response to his goading, and then smiles, stands, and holds out his hand.
“It’s a shame that you were caught up with that thug. I’m glad to know that we were able to rescue you before you got hurt,” he lies smoothly, inventing his fictions as easily as an author weaves a fairy tale.
He’s not pushing the truth that I tried to run away. I’m…shocked?
“And the others?” I ask.
“One dead, but the rest are fine,” he says, again without feeling, as if we are merely discussing the weather.