Page 119 of Ensnared

“But I’m not ensnared,” I say. “I’m entwined, and?—”

“How did you do it?” the woman who was complaining about too much fish asks. “If I could do that, I might not mind the fish. I heard that being entwined’s totally different. Your blessed is—” She cuts off with a squeak and bows again. “But he seems to adore you.”

Clearly she’s scared of him, but she’s also jealous.

This is all very, very strange.

Liz is too tired to talk to you today. You’ll have to come again, in groups of no more than five. Azar sighs. Talk to Rufus one floor down. He’ll group you into batches and set up a few meetings a day.

“But we need guidance,” the man says. “We need a leader.”

And she needs time to understand her role. The whiplash in his voice that time shocks even me.

The ensnared all flatten themselves to the floor again.

I glare. “That’s hardly helpful,” I mutter. “Alright, alright, on your feet.”

They slowly rise with a lot of backward glances and trembling, and then they exit through the stairwell. I’m hoping they’ll find an elevator on another floor and not try to walk all the way down. Trotting down seventy-five levels would destroy me, and I’m in decent shape.

But one of them hasn’t left, one with silver hair. When I finally notice her face, I realize why.

It’s my mother.

“I know it’s presumptuous of me to ask this of you, Your Highness.” She drops to her knees. “But please, can you hear me out today?”

My mother doesn’t look good. Her formerly vibrant silver hair’s tangled and dull. Her skin’s dirty and sallow. Her eyes have hollows underneath them.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, and then I realize.

Her dragon’s half-dead and stuck in a magic red bubble. Did I think she’d be fine? I’m such a selfish jerk.

“It has been such a long day and a half,” I say, realizing that’s all it’s been. “I’m so sorry, Mom.” I drop to one knee and reach for her.

She skitters away, her head bowed again, her eyes trained on the ground. “I’m sorry for my impertinence, but I have an urgent request.”

“Anything, Mom. Say the word.”

She turns her face up slowly, her lips trembling. “Can you transfer my bond to another blessed?” She inhales sharply. “I’ll still serve, just with another blessed. Any one you choose.” She bows her head.

Oh, no. We did tell everyone that my bond was transferred. I want to tell her that’s not what happened, but I can’t. It’s not my secret. “Mom, I can’t do that.”

Her eyes are haunted when she pleads with me. “Can’t? Or won’t? Because I’ll do anything. I’ll be anything?—”

I grab her hand and wrap mine around it. “Mom, I would do it if there was any way I could. What happened with me, it can’t be repeated. It was. . .not something I can help you with.”

“Then, if you can’t transfer my bond. . .” A tear rolls down her face.

In that moment, all the moments in my life that Mom held me, that she wiped my face, that she brushed my hair, that she helped me dress, that she laughed with me about something silly, all those tiny moments roll together in my mind, and they’re all painful.

Because the one time she’s asking for my help, I can’t give it.

“If you can’t, then will you—or your master—” She pauses. She breathes in and out, and then she grunts. The rest of her question pours out in a rush. “Will you please kill my Blessed?” She begins to shake uncontrollably.

I wait for it to abate, but it seems to only be getting worse. “What’s going on?” Clearly Mom’s not going to be able to answer me, so I’m looking to Azar for answers.

She must’ve been commanded not to think any harmful thoughts about her blessed, he says. Breaking those rules is impossible for most ensnared. You should be proud. Your mother’s quite strong.

And Ocharta really is the devil’s bride.