Page 43 of Anwen of Primewood (The Eldentimber #2)

T he last of the leaves fall from the brush. The snow blankets the ground and then melts, and tiny white wildflowers bloom. Spring in Primewood is pleasant, but I find very little joy in it.

I open the door to Father’s room. “I have your soup.”

He’s frail. The few months under the curse robbed years of his life. He rarely leaves his room now, and when he does, he wanders the halls, speaking to Mother.

We miss her.

I’m no longer as angry as I was when I found out she knew she would die. I’m not even angry she brought the curse on us all. I, too, almost flirted with magic while trying to find Dimitri. Desperation leads to bad judgment. Bad judgment leads to pain.

I feed Father and ask him about his day. Now that the weather is warm, he sits at the window for hours letting the sun shine on him.

“The birds are returning,” he says. “They are making nests. ”

I nod and offer him another bite of soup.

He turns his tired eyes on me. “Why hasn’t your prince returned?”

I look down. “He went home, Father.”

“The servants have whispered of a possible engagement.”

My gaze flickers back to him.

“I’m still here, Anwen,” he says. “I know what goes on around me.”

I work up a smile, and I pat his arm. “I’m happy taking care of you.” I let the spoon rest in the bowl. “Tomorrow, we could sit outside and watch the birds if you like.”

“I have servants to take care of me. It doesn’t have to be you.” He pauses. “You’ve sent him away, haven’t you?”

My smile falters.

“You are allowed to be happy.”

I shake my head. “I don’t deserve to be happy. Look what I’ve done.”

He sets his fragile hand on my cheek. “You are so much like your mother.”

I close my eyes.

“She was impatient as well. She wanted you so badly, she couldn’t bear to wait. You wanted happiness so badly, you ran off to find it.”

“You heard,” I whisper.

“I knew.”

“But you loved her. How could you love her when you knew she did that to you?”

He smiles. “I forgave her. Just as I have already forgiven you.”

I choke on a sob. “I miss her. ”

He clasps my hand, squeezing it. His voice breaks. “I miss her, too.”

I cling to his hand for several moments, and then I let go and offer him more soup.

He ignores it. “You need to go to him, Anwen.”

“You just said I have to be patient and not go chasing after happiness.” I give the spoon a little wiggle to remind him I won’t leave him alone until he eats.

He gives me a small smile. “Happiness followed you home, and you sent it away.”

I chew my lip. “You really think so?”

Father nods. “I know.”

I drum my fingers against my leg and stare out the window. “Do you think I could perhaps leave for Glendon tomorrow?”

Father takes the spoon from me. Though it trembles in his hand, he brings it to his lips. “I think that would be wise.”

I can’t sleep knowing tomorrow I will leave to go to Galinor. It’s been months. What if he doesn’t want me anymore? Worse—what if he’s found someone else?

My blankets are hot; I throw them off. Now I’m cold; I pull them back on. I have no idea if it’s the middle of the night or almost dawn, so I stare at the curtains, waiting for light to peek through the edges.

How light will it be before I see it through the drapes? What if I lay here long after dawn?

I pad across the cold stone floor, pull back the curtains, and open the window, letting in the cool spring air. The horizon is still black. No birds sing.

Even though I shiver, I leave the window open. Now I will know exactly when the sky lightens over the trees.

I cuddle under my blankets, blocking out the cold. I must doze because something wakes me. I blink my eyes and peer around the room, looking for Brynna.

She usually slips in early in the morning to light the fire, but I don’t see her or anyone else. The noise must have come from the forest. I close my eyes, and then I hear a shrill, eerie cry from outside.

It’s Danver.

I sit up, ready to go collect him. With Pika around, I haven’t worried about a predator finding the fox, but something has upset him. I swing my legs over the side of the bed, and when I do, I meet a knife.

The sharp, cold blade presses against my neck, and I freeze.

“Hello, Anwen,” the dark voice says.

I swallow, trying to breathe. “Dimitri. What are you doing here?”

“What do you think I’m doing? My love, I’m paying you a visit.”

“What do you want?”

Dimitri steps from the head of the bed, keeping the knife in place as he moves. “The truth?”

“That would be novel for you, wouldn’t it?” I hiss, unable to help myself despite the blade.

He smiles, but it’s a chilling expression. “I was going to kill you and your prince. Originally, I had hoped to catch you together. I assumed you would have married by now. ”

I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to hide my fear.

“But it seems you’re all alone. I’ve watched you for days, and your Prince Disgrace is nowhere to be found.”

His eyes go wide with mock surprise when I don’t answer. “He didn’t want you?” He laughs. “You left me for a man who didn’t want you when you could have stayed with one who did?”

“You didn’t love me, Dimitri.”

He leans down, his eyes wild. “I did,” he says vehemently. “I would have done anything to keep you.”

“Except give me back the changeling stone.”

He slams his fist against the wooden bed frame. “Always the stone, Anwen!”

“If you’re going to kill me, then do it.”

He narrows his eyes. “You don’t think I will?”

His hand shakes. A trickle of hot blood trails down my throat. Suddenly, he growls and throws the knife across the room. It falls to the floor with a clatter that echoes off the walls. He grabs my shoulders, and I don’t move. I’m more scared of the look in his eyes than I was of the knife.

“He’s left you.” His eyes search mine. “We can be together, Anwen.”

Startled, I begin to shake my head. His hands tighten on my shoulders, and he shakes me hard. “Don’t you see! We’re supposed to be together!”

“Please, Dimitri,” I whisper. “Let go. You’re hurting me.”

He softens his grip only slightly. “It’s still because of him , isn’t it? You’re still in love with him . It doesn’t matter,” he says when I don’t answer, and he laughs. “He’s dead by now. Once I saw you were apart, I sent men to finish him.”

My breath catches. “What do you mean?”

He leans forward. “Your prince is dead.”

I go cold, but I shake my head. “He’s a knight. You think your men can kill him?”

“No, they probably couldn’t.” He smiles like we’re having a civil afternoon conversation. “But assassins can.”

My stomach lurches, and the room spins. Dimitri laughs quietly, and he draws my startled self toward him, wrapping his arms around me in an embrace.

My cheek brushes the trim on his vest, and when it does, a rage unlike anything I’ve ever felt courses through me. I jerk away and make to gouge his eyes, like Galinor taught me, but Dimitri anticipates my move and grabs my wrist before I can make contact.

“Stop fighting it.” His breath is hot on my face. “You will be mine.”

I fight, freeing my wrist. “I’d rather die.”

Dimitri’s eyes narrow, and then his hands wrap around my throat. “You’d rather die than be with me?” His hair falls in his face, and his shoulders shake.

He pushes me back. I’m pressed against the bed frame, and though I don’t know how to free myself, I struggle against him.

What did Galinor say I should do? Why can’t I remember?

I try to escape—I kick him, knee him, twist away—but he blocks me with his body and makes my effort pointless. I vaguely hear screams in the hall and a great beating at the door, which Dimitri must have locked .

Dots mar my vision. I’m not going to last much longer.

“Tell me you love me, and I’ll let you go.” Dimitri’s hands tremble even as they squeeze. “Please, Anwen. I love you, darling. Don’t make me kill you.”

Even moments from death, I shudder at his mad words.

Suddenly Dimitri screams, and for just a second, his hands loosen on my neck. I gasp for air. Sweet as it is, my throat burns. Remembering Galinor’s lesson, I thrust my palm into Dimitri’s nose.

He doubles over, his hands clutching his face even as he frantically kicks his leg. Danver’s jaws are clamped on his calf. Over and over, Dimitri kicks Danver against the bed frame, but the little fox continues to cling to him, fighting like a mad creature.

Suddenly the door breaks open, and Pika bursts into the room.

I’m slumped in the corner, still gasping for breath. “Pika, no!” I yell, but it’s too late.

The glasseln’s emerald eyes find Dimitri, and she lunges forward, a cat with its prey in sight. Dimitri’s screams fill the room. I squeeze my eyes shut and clasp my hands over my ears, hoping, but failing, to muffle the agonizing sound.

Then there is silence.

I open my eyes. Danver is on my lap, licking his wounds. Pika doesn’t linger over her kill—she has no interest in Dimitri now. She comes to me and sits by my side, her fur wet with blood. Dimitri’s blood.

My stomach heaves, and I fight the urge to be sick .

Frantic voices fill the room. Milton pulls me from the floor, and I cry against his chest. Giving Pika a wide berth, he walks me out of the room.

“Don’t hurt her!” I cry.

Father stands in the hall, surrounded by maids and other servants. He looks pale and scared, and I rush to him. He wraps his arms around me, his muscles stronger than they look.

Voices merge together into chaos, and people dart this way and that, no one quite sure what to do. Standing at the edge of the fray, is Ergmin.

“What is he doing here?” I demand.

Father pats my shoulder. “He came to warn us about the attack. If it hadn’t been for him, we would never have been able to open the door in time.”

I glare at Ergmin, still unable to forgive him for his involvement with my mother.

“I have to go,” I say.

“Not now.” Father holds me back. “Who was this man? What happened?”

“I love you,” I say, ignoring his question. “I promise, I will be back.”

I hug him tightly and then run to my room, averting my eyes as I pass Dimitri’s lifeless form. My stomach rolls again, but I don’t have time to dwell on the morning’s horrific events. I pull a gown from my wardrobe and dress quickly in the empty, adjacent room.

Danver limps after me, dragging his back legs. They must be broken. When I see him, I sit on the cold floor and welcome him into my arms. His breathing is shallow and uneven, and he trembles under my hands. Hot tears roll down my cheeks as I cradle him.

“You saved me, little friend,” I whisper.

He shuffles deeper in my lap, takes a long, ragged breath, and then goes still in my arms. Pika pads to us, her head tilted in concern. She mews, waiting for him to answer. When he doesn’t, she lies next to me and nuzzles his furry body with her nose.

My tears fall on Danver’s still, tawny red coat.