Page 33

Alina

SUNLIGHT WAKES ME SOFTLY. IT creeps around the edges of the drapes, sneaking into the room one inch at a time.

My senses turn on slowly. I’m warm, held comfortably in a deep mattress with blankets draped across my body. The air smells of woodsmoke tinged with dust. I’m still wearing my nightdress, if the silky slip of material across my skin as I shift in the bed is any indication.

I go to lift a hand to my head, where a headache has started to blossom, and I’m startled to realize my wrists are bound.

This wakes me immediately.

I shoot up in the bed and wriggle the unfamiliar blankets away to see that I’ve been put in shackles. They’re metal, but the cuffs themselves are wrapped in plush linen, likely to spare my wrists from the bite of the iron .

Why?

When I dig through my hazy memories, I recall being awoken, Tristan at the door telling me Raelan had been injured, the carriage, and then—

The powder.

It knocked me out immediately, before I could even think to fight back.

Tristan did this to me.

My heart stings with betrayal. I thought he was my friend, thought he may even have had an interest in being more than that. Now I’m quite certain he was only trying to get close to me for his own nefarious purposes—whatever those purposes may be.

My heart gallops as fear spikes through my body.

Focusing on the shackles, I attempt to bring ice to my hands, to freeze the metal and hopefully make it brittle enough to snap, but nothing happens. I try again, and though my magic tingles through my veins, it can’t manifest outwardly.

The cuffs are stifling my magic, dampening it.

Shit!

Trying very hard not to panic, I kick the blankets away and am relieved to find that I am, indeed, still dressed in my nightclothes. I twist about and set my feet upon the floor, which is chilled despite the fire burning in the hearth. Quietly, in an effort to not alert anyone in this place that I’ve woken up, I cross from the bed to the window and use my bound hands to shift the drapes aside.

The sun is much higher in the sky that I expected. It seems I slept through the night and a good portion of the day. As if to remind me of this fact, my stomach grumbles pathetically.

But I can’t focus on that now. I’m too busy assessing the landscape outside the window, trying to determine where I am.

I’m on the second floor of a building, though I’m not yet sure what type of building. Outside, a crumbling stone wall wraps around the property, and beyond that, all I see are trees. Deep and dark and overgrown, the forest is impossible to see through. And given the derelict state of the outbuildings peppered along the forest line, I’m starting to determine that I’m being held on some abandoned farm, perhaps on the distant outskirts of the farmland surrounding Wysteria. But if I was unconscious all night and part of the day, it’s possible I’ve been carried many, many miles from Coven Crest.

I could be anywhere.

Dread twists in my belly, cold and heavy.

What does he want with me?

Behind me, there’s a creaking of floorboards. I whip around just in time to see the door creak open slowly. And Tristan, the traitor , is the one who appears.

“Oh.” His dark brows rise toward his floppy brown hair. “You’re awake.”

He’s no longer wearing his Coven Crest robe and has since donned unremarkable brown trousers, brown boots, a forest-green tunic, and a cloak that looks warm and sturdy.

If I were to see him in Wysteria, I’d not look twice, and if someone were to ask me if I’d seen him, I probably couldn’t even call him to memory .

It’s the perfect attire for someone going about the dirty business of kidnapping princesses.

He steps into the room, a tray of food held in his hands, and pushes the door closed with his boot. “You must be hungry. I brought you some soup and bread. It’s a bit stale, but it’ll do.” He smiles.

And it makes my stomach turn.

“How dare you,” I seethe. “What is the meaning of this?”

Tristan crosses the room to the small table and chairs that stand before the fire. The table wobbles a bit when he sets the tray down, and he takes a moment to pull a square of linen from his pocket and use it to brace the table leg. He seems completely unconcerned, like the situation we find ourselves in is the most normal thing in the world.

Has he done this before? Is he even who I think he is? Maybe his name isn’t even Tristan.

“This isn’t about you,” he says as he straightens up and turns to face me. “You’re just one piece of the puzzle. But no one’s going to hurt you.”

“Oh?” I arch a brow and lift my shackled wrists. “Then why am I bound like a prisoner?”

“Can’t be too cautious.” He smiles at me like he’s my friend. The liar . “I know what your frost magic can do.”

My eyes narrow. “Yes, because you went to class with me. Because I thought you were my friend. That was all a lie, then?”

“No, not all of it.” He busies himself with throwing another log on the fire and blowing flames onto it with his fire magic. I strive not to let my expression betray my surprise .

A memory flits through my mind: Tristan alongside the runeball field, trying and failing to bring a flame into his palm.

I was under the impression that he was a beginner warlock, someone only just learning how to control his magic, and he never led me to think otherwise. But I see now even that was a ploy, likely to lull me into a false sense of comfort around him.

Has it all been a lie?

“Is your name even Tristan?” I ask.

He has the audacity to laugh. “No. Sorry.”

“What is it, then?”

“Afraid I can’t tell you that. Anonymity and all.” He dusts off his hands, then gestures to the tray of food. “You really should eat. It’s not poisoned, if that’s what you’re thinking. The king wouldn’t be happy about that.”

I perk up. “My grandfather knows where I am?”

“No, but he knows what we want. And if he follows our instructions, we’ll be taking you to him tonight.”

I don’t move, though my stomach growls again, making Tristan—or whoever he is—smile.

“Who’s we ? And what is it that you want?”

“Afraid I can’t tell you that either. I’ve probably said too much already.” Propping his hands on his hips, he shrugs. “Well, up to you if you want to eat. I’ll leave it here. Just holler if you need something. Someone’ll hear you.”

He gives me a jovial smile—the ass—then leaves, and almost as soon as the door clicks closed behind him, there’s the tell-tale thunk of a lock falling into place. His footsteps drift away down what I assume is a hallway, and I’m left with only the flickering fire as company.

Immediately, I start fussing with my shackles again, trying to get them off. But no matter how I twist my wrists or scrunch my fingers up in an effort to slide them off, they won’t budge.

I quickly search the room, trying to find something, anything , that I can use to free myself. But the bedroom is bare. It feels like no one has been here in years, if the dust built up on the floors and in the corners is any indication.

Once more, I try to call my magic, but it remains trapped just beneath the surface, unable to manifest. It fills me with frustration, like an itch that can’t be scratched.

And suddenly, I realize that this must be what Raelan feels like every single day. His chain does the same thing these shackles do: holds his magic at bay, keeps him from manifesting his power, from being truly whole.

I feel I’ve greatly misunderstood him, have been inconsiderate of how infuriating and uncomfortable it is to be unable to bring forth the magic you were born with. It makes hot shame curl through my stomach, knowing our moments together made it so much more unbearable for him. And yet he persevered. For me.

I’ve been selfish and foolish. And now I’ve gotten my grandfather into who knows what kind of situation with my rash decision.

I should’ve known Headmistress Moonhart would never send a student to fetch me in the middle of the night. But Tristan was around me often enough to see how I interacted with Raelan—perhaps even to see how I feel about him. And he used that to his advantage, used my feelings as a weapon to manipulate me.

Perhaps the only good thing about this is that Raelan wasn’t hurt after all. Where is he now? Back at the castle? Does he know what’s happened to me?

Closing my eyes, I draw a deep breath in through my nose. And immediately, Raelan’s words from last night come back to me.

It means you’re my fated mated, Alina.

His mate. The one chosen by his blood, by destiny.

Something inside of me shifts, starting to simmer.

I’m tired of waiting and hoping and wishing. I want Raelan, and I know he wants me. How many times did I have to see it in his eyes? How many times did I have to feel the heat in his touch?

He’s been holding himself back, afraid for his family, afraid of my grandfather, afraid for me.

But fear has no place in love. And I’m ready to be fearless.

I can be that for the both of us.

A new sense of determination rises up in me.

When I get out of this mess, I’m going to find Raelan, and I’m going to tell him exactly how I feel. I’m going to be the mate and partner that his dragon yearns for—that his dragon deserves. I’m going to rise to whatever challenges that requires.

And I’m not going to let fear control me .

I’m going to control it .

And I’m going to make sure Raelan never has to feel powerless and trapped again.

It’s time to set him free.