Page 15

Chapter 13

Morgana

I drag my eyes open, and for a moment I think I’m back in Otscold, tucked up in a room at the Fox and Deer. The noise of happy customers drifts up from the pub below, mingling with clinking tankards and footsteps across the inn’s rush-strewn floors.

The bed I’m in is warm and soft, and if I concentrate, I can almost imagine Tira knocking at the door, coming in to offer me a hot drink with a side of playful teasing about being a lazy sluggard for sleeping in so late.

“Finally.”

The voice isn’t Tira’s. I sit up and lock eyes with Leon, who’s sitting across the room from me. He’s taken his cloak off, and his booted feet are perched casually on a stool. His sword is no longer attached to his belt, but still within reaching distance on the table beside him, and his shirt is half undone. The fabric parts to reveal a sliver of his chest, all taut muscle wrapped in tan skin.

“Where are we?” I ask, my voice coming out in a croak. We’re certainly not in the woods that form my last memory. Not that I’m complaining about being under an actual roof, especially when I look over and see a jug of water beside me. I pour myself a glass and gulp it down.

“We figured you might need some quality rest if you were going to survive the withdrawal.”

Leon watches me as I drink, and I drop my gaze, suddenly self-conscious. My eyes land on my lap, where I see I’m not wearing the dress from the market but a fresh nightgown. I set my glass down with a clatter.

“Did you undress me?” I demand.

“Such gratitude.” He uncrosses his legs, setting his feet on the floor. “What about a thank you for making sure you didn’t die? For risking getting caught so you could wean yourself off your personal poison here?” He pulls the vial from his pocket and waves it at me, displaying the few red drops still sitting at the bottom.

His tone is surprisingly harsh. He’s irritated, though I doubt it’s about my survival. I’m fairly sure by this point that the fae prince doesn’t want me dead—yet.

“Thanks so much,” I say. “Especially the part where you violated me while I was unconscious.”

I narrow my eyes at him, searching for the flicker of guilt. Instead, his expression turns stormy.

“The nightdress belongs to the innkeeper’s wife. She dressed you.”

The tension in my stomach eases. I didn’t really think he would take advantage of me like that. Maybe he’s part monster, but not that kind of monster. And yet, I’ve recently discovered I’ve been very wrong about a lot of things. I didn’t want to be wrong about that too.

He stands, the chair scraping across the floor with a screech.

“We’ve wasted enough time here,” he says. “And you’ve delayed us long enough with your dramatics.”

I’m too exhausted to be afraid of him, but I don’t have the energy to argue either, so I just take the opportunity to glower back at him.

“At least you’re easier to travel with when you’re passed out,” he continues. “Let’s aim for more of that sweet silence in the days ahead.”

I speak before deciding whether it’s a good idea. “Wow, it’s clear that I’ve pissed you off by selfishly nearly dying, so very sorry.” His face shifts to fury at my sarcasm but I don’t care. I finally remember to ask him the question on my mind.

“How long has it been since the trading post?”

He is about to slip his glamour ring on, but pauses, offering me a few more moments of his true face.

“Two days.”

Two days. Two whole days without my potion, and I feel—well, not great, but not dying either. I’m sore, tired, and generally weak, but my headache is gone, and the world sits still at last.

I don’t need it . I don’t need that ghastly potion. I can survive without it.

That fact fills me with joy and horror in equal measure.

I’m not sick. But I am cursed, and that elixir has been keeping that curse locked inside me all this time.

What does it mean now that I’ve freed it?

“There’s food on the table,” Leon says, pointing to a covered plate. His tone is a touch less irritated than a moment ago. “We leave in the morning.”

As he walks by me, out the door, I catch a waft of his scent again and inhale in spite of myself. Then I turn to my plate, removing the cover. That’s the only scent I should be focusing on now.

I eat, my stomach only realizing how hungry I am when I take the first bite of bread. When I’ve stuffed myself full, I clamber back into bed and sink down into the pillows. There’s too much to think about. So much that I decide to put off worrying entirely about everyone I cared about lying to me all these years, my power, the bounty on my head, the dark-haired fae downstairs I can’t figure out. None of those problems can be solved today. The best use I can make of my time is getting some rest. For the first time in a long time, I fall easily back asleep.

Those solid hands are on my shoulders again, just like in the forest, comforting—inviting…but this time they’re not staying still.

They’re undressing me, I realize—and I like it, a thrill of excitement dancing through me as those nimble fingers brush the base of my neck. They unfasten my dress, then slowly tug the fabric down so that the cool air kisses my naked skin.

Then they’re skimming down across my breasts, teasing my nipples into peaks, making me gasp with pleasure.

I know those hands, have seen them fight and destroy—even kill—and yet I can’t get enough of their touch. It feels like they’re bringing me to life, stroking across my waist in a way that makes me arch into them. Gods, it’s been so long since my body felt this good. My muscles are loose, and a delicious tightness builds at my core, waiting to be unraveled.

I don’t hold back, letting myself moan.

“Do you like that, princess?”

His voice rolls right through me, and just the sound of it heightens the ache between my thighs. I spread them, offering him access, showing him my wetness, my need.

“Touch me,” I demand—or am I begging? I don’t care, as long as he listens.

He laughs, smooth as honey. “I thought that’s what I was doing,” he says. He kisses the edge of my hip, making that patch of skin hum.

“More,” I gasp, and gods—he gives it to me. A thick heat slides between my legs, making me gasp with pleasure. It stretches and fills me perfectly, and as he presses into the deep recesses of me, I can barely speak, barely think. I can only focus on that point of pressure he’s hitting. I need him to keep hitting, again and again. Forever.

I look up into a pair of fathomless gray eyes and ask for the storm to take me.

I wake with a start. There’s a banging in the hallway as someone stumbles their way downstairs, and I push back my sheets. I’m too hot, my heart’s pounding, and I’ve sweated through my nightgown. I check my forehead, but the fever hasn’t returned.

This isn’t withdrawal. This is my body responding to something else entirely. I remember where my mind was a moment ago, and a fresh flush crawls up my neck.

Oh gods. No.

I shake my head, trying to dispel the thought.

I did not just have a sex dream about Leon. He’s the Nightmare Prince, for gods’ sake, not…whatever that was.

I try to push all thoughts of it away as I climb out of bed and peek behind the curtains. It’s early morning, and my cleaned dress has been laid out for me.

But as I start dressing, the damn dream keeps coming back to me in vivid flashes.

Hands skim across my breasts, making me gasp.

I yank on my stockings, nearly tearing them in the process.

“Touch me,” I say, begging him to give me what I need.

I shove my feet into my shoes so violently, I almost break a toe.

I spread my legs for him ? —

Enough.

My mind wouldn’t have gone there, couldn’t have gone there. Surely, I wouldn’t ever want to be touched like that by that brute, knowing what he’s done.

Then why did it feel so good? Why did I feel a crush of disappointment when I woke too soon? And why am I still yearning for more?

The answer comes to me like a sledgehammer.

Magic. It has to be. I didn’t dream this on my own—that bastard slipped back into my mind while I was sleeping. It all makes sense to me now.

There’s a knock on the door, then barely a pause for me to answer before Leon strides in. He’s still not back in his cloak, but his sword is at his hip again, and he looks aggravatingly calm.

I fix him with a look that would wither a weaker man.

“I told you to stay out of my head.”

He quirks an eyebrow at me. “I see someone has woken up in a sunny mood.”

“I mean it. You have no right to mess around in my dreams like that.”

He folds his arms across his chest, his shirt sleeves rolled back, emphasizing the toned lines of his forearms.

“The only time I deliberately used my sensic power on you was to calm you during the worst of your fever. I pulled you out of your dreams, but I didn’t give you any.”

He certainly gave me something in the scenario I witnessed.

I shake my head, still fueled by my anger that he would do this to me.

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” I say.

“Then what in the name of Classitus are you talking about?” he asks.

I can feel the blush creeping onto my cheeks, and hate that I hesitate, unsure how to phrase it.

“I’m talking about last night, when you made me dream…when you and I…”

He looks confused for a moment, then his eyes brighten, and a smug smile slowly stretches across his face.

Oh no.

His reaction tells me everything. First, he had absolutely nothing to do with the scene that played out in my dream, and second, I’ve just utterly and completely embarrassed myself.

“If you were dreaming about me, princess, then I assure you that was entirely of your own doing.”

I drop my gaze to the floor, hoping it might sprout a deep, dark hole I can jump into.

“Though I can’t say I’m not flattered.” The silkiness of his voice has me in danger of conjuring up the images from my dream again. I take a step back, as if that will help me escape them.

“I didn’t know you had a naughty streak,” he eyes me thoughtfully, then advances a step closer, his tone dropping even lower. “Tell me, was I good? Of course I was. But I hope it was truly satisfying .”

He’s playing with me, the prick. Enjoying every burning ounce of my humiliation. I won’t let him make me cower in shame. Instead, I jerk my chin up and glare at him.

“Are you done?” I demand.

He laughs, and the spark it brings to his eyes softens his taunting, making it more like a joke between friends. But we are absolutely not friends.

“Are we still leaving this morning?” I ask, businesslike, desperate to move on from this awful conversation.

“Yes, seeing as you seem better.” I ignore the trace of amusement lingering in his words. “It’s time we get back on the road. Alastor’s been asking around downstairs, and it seems some of the royal soldiers have been out hunting for us not far from here.”

My stomach tightens. A few days ago, I would’ve been hopeful to hear this news, but now my situation is so much more complicated.

“How did they find us so quickly? Weren’t you careful?”

He scowls at my accusation. “No one would be able to track us unless we let them. They were already in the area when reports of you reached them. Though why the Trovian army would have men passing through this backwater, I don’t know.”

He crosses the room to pick up my cloak, passing it to me.

“Hurry up, I don’t want to waste more time,” he says, though his tone is light.

I remember his irritation with me when I woke up yesterday, how annoyed he’d seemed by my slowing them down. That anger has mostly dissipated today, and as I pull on my cloak I can’t help wondering what’s changed. I shake the thought off as quickly as I can. It doesn’t matter what whims guide the Nightmare Prince’s mood.

We meet Alastor downstairs in the tavern, and he looks relieved when he spots me.

“Oh good. The captain told me you weren’t dead, but it’s still nice to see it in person.”

“I think the gods decided I’m too stubborn to die,” I say, earning a snort of agreement from Leon.

They’ve organized new horses and packs for traveling. Though as we leave the tavern, I realize the number of horses is the same—I still have to ride with one of them. I think by now I could work out the basics of it on my own, but when I mention the lack of a horse for me, Leon just grunts.

“After the trading post fiasco, I’m not going to hand you an opportunity to make a break for it. Who knows what idiotic plans you’re brewing?”

I don’t give him the satisfaction of looking riled. In truth, I’m worried about what would happen if those soldiers found us. Would there be any way I could prove my innocence? Would my surrender to the royal forces be enough to get me a fair hearing?

Perhaps. But then there’s the small issue of my being a solari. I have a big secret to hide from the court, one that would condemn me to death the moment someone found out about it.

So what’s left for me? Where can I go?

Not so long ago, I was set on finding sanctuary on the coast, with Will in Gullert. I’d earn my keep—surely he’d teach me how to help around the house and look after him as he got older, and in return I’d felt certain he would give me a home. He’s the closest thing I have to a father, and I know he loves me. But that was back before I realized all the baggage I carry. Could I really expect him to hide a murderous princess, and a heretic to boot?

I’d like to think he’d welcome me. I can only hope so.

We travel until the early afternoon, when we stop to rest and eat. I’m chewing on some bread, brought fresh from the inn, when I look up to see Leon standing over me. I’m instantly uneasy at the look in his eyes.

“Yes?” I ask, wary.

“The side effects of your withdrawal look like they’ve subsided,” he says. “You seem stronger now.”

He’s right. I feel better than I have in days. Maybe longer than that. Despite riding for so many hours, I’m not nearly as tired as I used to get just from sitting around and doing next to nothing. And the aches I’ve gotten used to over the years have vanished. Maybe suppressing my magic was putting more strain on me than I realized. Leaving Gallawing introduced me to a whole new world, but now I’m experiencing it in a whole new body too.

“Yes. I feel stronger,” I agree, though I’m still wary about where this is going.

He nods, pleased. “Then it’s time you learn to use your magic.”

“And how will I do that?”

He crosses his arms, looking determined.

“I’ll train you.”