Page 22 of Bound by Wishes (Enchanted Deceptions #1)
T he first stirrings of panic were subtle. It began with a creeping, unnerving tightness in my chest, like an invisible hand was squeezing the very breath from my lungs. My poor heart started to race, each beat a frantic thud against my ribcage. I wondered why the poor organ hadn’t given out by now. I tried to focus on my surroundings, but the torchlight did nothing to hold back the panic wrapping its hands around my throat.
A cold sweat broke out on my skin, chilling and clammy, while a dizzying lightheadedness threatened to pull me under completely. I leaned against the cool stone wall, using it as a crutch to hold me up. The room seemed to close in, and the gnawing sensation of losing control spread through me. I breathed in deep, trying to ward off the panic attack that threatened me. If I gave in now, everyone was doomed. I had to get out of this room and get to Ranen and release him from the lamp before the Nightshade wreaked havoc on this poor unsuspecting world.
What plagues your mind, little sayyida? Whatever it is, be it real or imaginary, I will slay it. Ranen’s words came flooding back to me, and I clung to the memory of his strong presence, using it to anchor myself and pull me back from the edge of fear. I closed my eyes, and I could see his rugged face, leaning closer to me on the bed. He was trying to hide it, but I saw the hint of concern flickering in his intense gaze. If you will allow me to, I will sit with you until you fall back asleep.
My eyes fluttered open, and the vision of him shattered into the cold reality surrounding me. How I wished he were here with me, but he wasn’t and he never would be again unless I pulled myself together. I had to find a way out of this dungeon. My breathing slowed along with rapid pounding of my heart as my panic eased.
I rose to my feet, my legs wobbly from everything I had endured. Taking a deep breath, I scanned the room. I walked over to the door and grabbed the handle. Of course it was locked. I knelt by the door, my mind racing for a solution as panic tried to flood back in. The door before me was old, but the lock was in good shape and stubbornly holding me prisoner. I studied the lock. It was a simple pin tumbler mechanism, one my father had taught me how to pick. It wouldn’t take much to open it, if I had the right tools, but those were in my father’s worn canvas bag at the bottom of that deep pool in the cave. The memory of it, sinking beneath the cold, dark water, was almost enough to bring tears.
I glanced around the room, disappointed to find nothing but old scrolls and bottles of vile-looking liquids. I looked down at my elegant outfit of harem pants and a crop top, the soft, sheer fabric gently clinging to my skin. All I had was this necklace. I tugged it free, letting the delicate chain slip through my fingers, but I kept hold of the pendant. A blood-red ruby was delicately framed between two curved pieces of gold that was fashioned to look like leaves. I snapped the two leaves off the pendant and tossed the ruby aside. I wished it was steel or even silver, anything but gold. Gold was too soft, too pliable, and I wasn’t sure it would be strong enough to pick the lock. But it was all I had.
Carefully, I shaped the two leaves into makeshift picks. The gold flexed as I worked, and I hoped it would hold up long enough. I slipped the first pick into the lock, feeling for the pins. With my other hand, I pressed the second pick against the first pin, nudging it upward until I heard a soft click. The gold bent slightly, making my breath hitch as I shifted to the next pin.
My hands were slick with sweat, making everything harder. Each pin was a struggle, a delicate balancing act of holding the tension steady while the soft gold threatened to twist out of shape. By the time I reached the final pin, both picks were warped from the strain. But I couldn’t stop now. With a final, careful twist, I lifted the last pin, feeling the lock release with a satisfying click.
The door creaked open, and a wave of relief washed over me. I held up the now-useless leaf, its once-delicate beauty twisted beyond recognition. Gold may be weak, but sometimes, even the most fragile things are strong enough to get the job done. I tossed it to the ground and hurried out of the room.
I crept through the passageway, thankful the torches were still blazing. A sigh of relief escaped me once I made it back to the dungeon. I hurried past the grim cells and menacing torture devices that lined the walls. The rusted edges and dark stains, which I imagined to be dried blood, made my skin crawl. If Razoul caught me trying to escape, would he use those vile tools on me? I shook my head, forcing the thought away. I couldn’t dwell on that now. What I had to focus on was getting out of the palace.
I climbed the treacherous stairs carefully, wary of their damp, slick surface. The memory of nearly tumbling down them to my death flashed through my mind, causing a shudder to run through me. This time, Ranen wasn’t here to catch me if I slipped, and the thought of his strong arms not being there to save me made my heart ache. The tension winding its way through me eased once I reached the top. I was surprised that Razoul didn’t feel the need to place a guard. Apparently, he thought helpless little me couldn’t possibly escape that room. The arrogance of it almost made me laugh. He underestimated me, as many did.
My steps slowed as I entered the main halls of the palace. The cold dread that had clung to me in the dungeon began to lift as the warmth of the upper levels seeped back into my bones. The goosebumps that had prickled my skin slowly started to vanish, but it was short-lived as a guard turned the corner.
He gripped the hilt of his sword but slowly eased his hand away when he saw it was me. “What are you doing down here, princess?” he asked, his eyes venturing down, taking in the dusty and torn state of my clothes. Shock flickered in his gaze. “What happened?”
“I…I fell…” I lied, my shaky voice betraying me. “Down the stairs.” I held up my bloodied palm as proof. The edges of the wound were crusted with dried blood while the center still oozed. The memory of Razoul slicing through my palm made me wince, but I kept my gaze on the guard, hoping the injury would distract him from any suspicion.
His eyes rounded in horror at the blood. “Quickly,” he instructed, motioning me forward. “I must get you to the physician and inform the king that you have been injured at once.”
All the blood drained from my face as panic surged through me. “No!” I wailed way too loudly, judging by the shocked expression on his face. I stood up taller, forcing myself to collect the scattered remains of my composure. With a deep breath, I put back on the mask of a princess, the one Ranen had so tediously taught me to wear. “It was just a silly accident,” I said, injecting a lightness into my voice that I didn’t feel. “And I do not want my future husband to think his bride is clumsy. Take me to my servant. She’ll tend to my wound and help me get cleaned up.” I kept my tone firm, hoping my confident words would mask the desperation simmering beneath the surface.
“This is highly irregular, Your Highness. I should get the servant to come to you.” He eyed me skeptically. “You shouldn’t be anywhere near the filthy servant’s chamber.”
And just like that, his words lit my anger like a flame to a candle wick. “I don’t recall asking your opinion,” I hissed. For a fleeting moment, I wondered if my anger was intensified by the fact that I now knew they were “my” people, sharing the same lineage. “Take me to her, now.”
The guard bowed his head once, leading me down the hallway toward the servant’s quarters without any more argument. “That will be all,” I said, dismissing him once we reached the door. As he disappeared around the corner, I eased the door open and stepped inside. My senses were on high alert, and every muscle in my body was tight with tension.
The nauseating scent of human waste and unwashed bodies hit me full force, making tears well up in my eyes. I quickly closed the door behind me, my breath catching as I turned around. The chamber was crowded with servants, and their startled faces turned toward me in a mix of shock and fear. Gasps rippled through the room, as they threw themselves to the floor.
“It’s okay,” I said soothingly. “You can get up.” I stepped forward, my voice barely more than a whisper. “Arwa,” I called, venturing deeper into the servant’s quarters.
No one moved. Their wide eyes followed me, as I pressed on. Time was definitely against me. I had no doubt that the guard was on his way to inform the king about what happened. I needed to find Arwa before it was too late.
Arwa’s head popped out from behind a makeshift curtain, a flimsy piece of material that offered little privacy. The moment she saw me, she bolted toward me, falling to her hands and knees. “Forgive me, princess,” she wailed, her voice trembling with fear.
I bent down and pulled her to her feet. “Shh. We have no time for that.” I dragged her along behind me. “And stop trembling,” I scolded. “You’re not in trouble. I need your help.”
Arwa’s eyes rounded in astonishment before answering. “Anything, princess.”
“I need a cloak or something to cover my clothes,” I instructed her, and her gaze ran down the length of my torn outfit.
Arwa disappeared without another word, returning moments later with a cloak that smelled faintly unpleasant and looked as though moths had been feasting on it. “It’s the only one I have,” she said with an apologetic shrug.
My throat tightened with emotion as I took the only source of warmth she had. I vowed to myself, if I lived through this ordeal, I would ensure she had a brand-new cloak, one that would rival that of a queen’s.
I gripped her hand, and she gasped at the unusual contact. “Thank you.” I smiled at her. “I have to leave the palace,” I explained, glancing around uneasily before stepping toward the door that led to the kitchen.
“By yourself?” Arwa gasped, her eyes widening in horror. “If the king finds out, he’ll skin us alive.” Her voice shuddered as she clutched the edges of her ragged cloak.
I pulled the cloak from her shaky hands, throwing it over my shoulders and pulling the hood over my disheveled hair. “I don’t have a choice,” I said firmly. “If the king asks, you or anyone else never saw me.” I locked eyes with her as I prepared to slip through the kitchen and out into the garden.
Arwa pranced nervously, shifting from one foot to the other as I tugged the hood further over my face to conceal my identity. Without another word, I slipped through the kitchen. I kept my head down, avoiding eye contact to ensure no one else would recognize me.
The rich, tantalizing scents of the kitchen filled the air. The aroma of spiced lamb, mingled with the heady fragrance of cumin and coriander and freshly baked flatbreads, wafted around me. My stomach grumbled in protest, but hunger was the least of my concerns right now.
My hand shook violently as I reached for the doorknob. I hurried across the garden, ducking behind fragrant-smelling shrubs and melding with the shadows of the tall citrus trees. Every rustle and creak sent my pulse into a frenzy, amplifying my urgency to escape.
Thankfully, I reached the stables without being stopped. Might as well add horse thievery to my ever-growing list of offenses. I ducked inside, the fresh, earthy scent of hay and horse manure hitting me full force. Dim light beamed from above, and warm air wrapped around me, making me feel safe for the time being.
I paused in the doorway, appalled that even the horse stable was nicer than the servant’s quarters. The high arched ceiling was supported by intricately carved wooden beams, their dark hues contrasting with the pale walls that were lined with delicate tiles in shades of turquoise and gold.
The floor was covered in a thick layer of fresh straw that rustled under my feet as I stepped forward. Each stall was spacious and clean and lined with plush, straw-filled bedding and a brass water trough that glistened beneath the sunlight that filtered in through the skylight above.
The air was thick and humid, with the aroma of freshly baked bread from the nearby kitchens occasionally wafting through the space. I glanced around as curious horses stuck their heads out of their stalls to see who was disturbing their leisure time.
They were all magnificent creatures, and I could only imagine how much animals like this would cost. Their coats were sleek and well-groomed, ranging from deep lustrous blacks and rich chestnuts to shimmering grays and dappled whites. I walked over to the closest stall, my hand just brushing the brass handle. The world tilted as I was harshly yanked away, throwing me off balance. My heart raced as I struggled to catch myself before tumbling into a pile of hay.
“What do you think you’re doing here?” a guard roared in my face, his breath hot against my face and his words sending a spray of spit across my skin.
I adjusted my hood, drawing it tighter over my head as I kept my eyes fixed on the ground. “The princess sent me,” I answered him, my voice shaking. “She wishes to go for a ride, and I was asked to ensure that a horse was saddled and ready for her.”
Blessedly, the guard’s grip loosened as he eyed me up and down. “You smell worse than one of the horses,” he sneered, dropping my arm with a look of disgust. At the moment, I was grateful for Arwa’s dirty cloak. It masked the scent of the fine oils and soaps I had used just that morning to bathe.
“Stable boy!” the guard thundered. A scrawny young boy who looked as though he could use a good meal scurried into the stable. “Ready a horse for the princess.”
He nodded once before rushing to obey the guard’s order.
“I’ll just stay out of the way and wait until the horse is ready before fetching the princess,” I said barely above a peep before leaning against the stable wall.
“You stay over there," the guard growled, pointing at a pile of hay that nearly reached the ceiling. “And don’t touch anything in here, you might taint it with your filth.”
He turned and walked away, leaving me seething with anger. I had to physically bite my lip to keep the words of anger from spilling out as he disappeared out the door.
I watched the servant boy as he quickly saddled a stunning gray with a speckled rump. The horse's coat gleamed in the dim light, its powerful muscles shifting as the boy worked. The care he took in preparing the steed was a testament to the animal’s worth.
“He’s ready,” the boy announced moments later.
“Go open the door for me,” I instructed him, pulling the hood back and revealing my identity to him.
He hit the ground, his forehead brushing against the hay-covered ground.
“Get up,” I hissed as I mounted the horse, who pranced eagerly beneath me. “Go open the door.” He stumbled upright, rushing for the door and flinging it open.
I eased the horse forward, drawing up beside him. “When they ask, make sure you tell them you tried to stop me,” I instructed firmly. I booted him hard in the chest, feeling a pang of guilt as his slender body hit the ground with a thud. Urging the gray forward with a swift kick, the horse bolted, its powerful legs propelling us toward the open gate. I gave him his head, letting the horse charge ahead as we raced to the exit.
Guards rushed toward me, their shouts and clanging weapons creating a chaotic symphony as they tried to block my escape. Two of them scrambled to close the gates, the slit narrowing as I watched in rising panic. Blood and adrenaline pulsed through my veins, sharpening my focus. I urged the horse to go faster, feeling the powerful surge of muscles as we barreled toward the closing exit. I squeezed my eyes closed as we reached the gate, the sound of clanging metal and shouting fading into the background. My legs brushed against the edge of the gate doors, barely squeezing through the narrowing gap.
Relief flooded through me, and I slumped in the saddle. But I wasn’t free yet. I still had to make it through the massive gates that separated the kingdom from the rest of the world. No one there would know I was trying to escape. So I quickly shrugged off the cloak, shoving it beneath me as I slowed the horse’s restless pace to a careful trot through the sparse marketplace. I would simply command them to open the gate and hoped beyond all hope they did as I asked. I had no idea how much authority a queen or soon-to-be queen had, but judging by how women were treated like property here, I doubted it would be much.
We finally reached the massive double doors, towering as if they stretched to the heavens. “Open the gate,” I commanded, steadying my voice.
The guards exchanged wary glances but said nothing. With labored grunts, they began turning the pulley system that opened the gates. I chewed nervously on my bottom lip. This was taking too long. I glanced down the dusty street that led to the palace, expecting to see guards descending upon me any second.
The gate creaked open, and the instant the opening was wide enough, I pressed my heels into the horse’s flanks and bolted through, not daring to look back.
My gaze fixed on the horizon and the promise of freedom it held. The sun was setting, its fading light stretching long shadows across the dunes that would help cloak my escape in darkness. I urged the horse to quicken its pace, unease prickling beneath my skin. I couldn’t afford to be caught now, not after endangering so many lives with my escape. The stakes were too high. If I failed to free Ranen from his lamp and stop the Nightshade, everything would be lost.
As we raced across the dunes, another horrible thought surfaced in my mind. Ranen had said time was different in the kingdom. Slowed to match his own agelessness. How much time had passed since I entered the Kingdon of Jalam? I had only been there a few weeks, but what about outside the gates? Weeks could be months, or even years, outside. The thought chilled me to the bone, urging me to drive the horse harder, faster, as if sheer speed might regain the time I’d lost.