Page 13 of A Cursed Son

Perhaps if I yell I’ll wake myself, or at least the bizarre version of me who’s been dreaming about this murderous maniac.

“No!”

My eyes snap open, and I bottle down the remaining scream, even though I still hear it echoing in my head. I’m lying on a strange bed of leaves, in a small cave. Rock walls surround me except for an opening ahead, from where sunlight comes in. My wrists and ankles are restrained with ice, and yet I don’t feel its cold biting me.

Prince Marlak is crouched, staring at me in puzzlement, twirling my dagger. He doesn’t wear a tunic anymore, and his chest is quite visible. There’s no doubt that it’s the chest I’ve been dreaming about, and now I just want to dig a hole and hide until the end of all eras.

“You. You tried to kill me.” At least his voice is not like the one in my dreams. It’s anything but soft or smooth.

This has to be the world’s strangest coincidence. Or some curse. Maybe there is someone with the same star and I’m overreacting. I need to stop thinking about these visions—right now. Especially when so much has happened. So much. I think about Prince Ziven and my body coils with rage.

“You killed my friend!” Perhaps he didn’t, but I want to see his reaction.

Marlak snorts and waves a hand. “I didn’t kill that useless prince.”

Useless prince. So he knows who he is—and likely thinks I’m Princess Driziely.

“They’ll pay you well to return me.”

He laughs and tilts his head. “Except they won’t. Because your job is to die to save a spoiled princess, isn’t it?”

He can’t know. There’s no way he would know. The secret about the substitutes never leaves the Elite Tower. “I am the princess.” I need to stick to that, as it might be the difference between life and death. “And I was just trying to gain time, not kill you. I don’t even have the skills for that.”

“If you want to pretend, pretend.” He shrugs and the movement reminds me of my dreams again, how he sometimes moves his arms and holds me tighter.

Not him. The dream man. Ugh. I had never truly understood the meaning of awkward until now. Why? Why?

He extends a hand with the chalice we were taking to Lord Stratson. “Take this. I don’t want it.”

Well, that’s just nonsensical. “Why then would you attack a royal carriage from a friendly kingdom?”

“Friendly? To me? I’m not part of the Crystal Court, in case you didn’t study that.”

Study? That could be a normal assumption about what a princess does, but it seems that he knows I’m a substitute and even some of what I do.

He adds, “Also, you’re not in your territory, and had no indication that you were royalty—fake or real. For all I know, you could be a threat to our land. So I’m not breaching the River of Tears Treaty.”

At least his voice is completely different. Baritone, like in my dreams, but harsh, not soothing and loving. I need to forget those dreadful dreams—or rather, nightmares.

“What do you want, then?” I forget to hide the anger in my voice, which is quite stupid.

His eyes widen in mock surprise. “So much bite for someone whose hands and feet are restrained.”

I notice that there are strips of fabric between me and the ice, and wonder if he did that to make me comfortable. Make me comfortable, right. I’m hallucinating here.

Well, it feels like it, when everything is so ludicrous and doesn’t make any sense.

“Let me go, then. Are you afraid of me?”

“It’s not fear.” He raises the dagger. “Although I have good reason to be cautious. It’s to make things easier.”

Make what easier? Oh no. No, no, no.

For the first time I realize I’m alone with a strange and dangerous man, away from anyone who could help me. I also realize I completely forgot to control my face, as he raises his hands, showing his palms.

“Hey, hey. I’m not going to hurt you. Or force you to do anything. I’m not that kind of monster.”

I’m startled and terrified. His hey, hey almost sounded like… No, I’m imagining it.