Page 21

STRANGE WOMEN LYING IN STREAMS

H er mind remained in the hallway outside Malediction’s workroom even as her feet navigated the uneven ground to the orchard.

The interaction had shaken her. It was unsettling to see the curse affect him rather than herself, even though she refused to feel sorry for him—especially not for his self-imposed isolation.

She’d never been given a choice about cutting herself off from the world; he had.

He could have left his house, could have adopted some new moniker and visited many pubs, if he hadn’t been so paranoid about his enemy.

The paranoia seemed disproportionate to her—how would his enemy ever hear of him, when nobody knew his old name?

Would his enemy truly still be searching after all these years, even for the promise of gold?

At first, she thought Apfela had given up on her, but as she reached the edge of the orchard, the woman stepped out from behind a birch. Surprise lit her eyes.

“See?” Gisele said, giving a twirl. “Not locked up at all.”

“I’m glad,” Apfela said. “He didn’t warn you against me?”

“Should he have?”

Apfela laughed. “No, I’ll keep you safe enough. This way.” She took Gisele’s arm.

Apfela’s touch didn’t spark the same disorienting wave of emotion and magical connection as Malediction’s, but it was still passing strange to be so casually touched, to walk close to another and talk in a relaxed fashion.

“How far is the village?” Gisele asked, but she had difficulty concentrating on Apfela’s answer.

Walking was taking more energy than usual, and she was slightly out of breath as they followed the path along the stream.

It was the same stream that wound around Skymallow, filling its pools, and eventually into the meadow.

Huge blue dragonflies darted over its surface.

Gisele pulled up short because there was a naked young woman sitting on a boulder in the middle of the stream. She was glad of the excuse to stop; her legs felt as if she’d been climbing a hill for several hours.

“Hello? Are you all right?” Gisele called uncertainly.

The girl didn’t seem at all worried by her state, her back arched to most fully display the length of her body, her long dark hair falling in a slick waterfall down her back.

She was pale as the underbelly of a fish and had eyes that glittered a strange, poisonous orange.

Her expression was defiant, at odds with her carefully careless pose.

“Sunbathing, are we, Niressa? Nice day for it. Don’t let yourself burn, though,” Apfela said in a tone that held not one ounce of shock for the girl’s appearance.

Niressa’s nose wrinkled at this lack of reaction, but she recovered, raising one slender shoulder in a shrug. “Who’s your companion, then?” Her teeth, when she spoke, were pointed.

“I’m Gisele.”

Niressa peered closer. “You’re a mortal. I saw you on the other side of the meadow yesterday.”

Gisele recalled a flash of orange eyes and the gasp of horror. “That was me,” she confirmed.

Niressa’s expression soured. “I had to walk to get to this side of the stream. I’d be able to swim the whole length of it if it weren’t for your master.”

“He’s not my master. I’m his guest,” Gisele said.

Niressa and Apfela exchanged a silent look in which much was said and nothing was spoken.

“Does everyone think he’s imprisoned me?” Gisele said with a sigh.

“You do have his mark all over you, and in the normal way of things, he doesn’t let anyone into that house. What else are we to conclude?” Apfela pointed out. “Besides, how else does a mortal princess end up in Faerie except by kidnapping? Sorry, love; Zingiber told me who you were.”

Niressa gave Gisele a scathing once-over. “You’re not much of a stolen princess, are you?”

Gisele smiled because it was impossible to be offended when there were two people interacting with her as if it was the simplest thing in the world. “I promise he didn’t steal me. I brought myself here.” Because he absolutely does not want me here , she didn’t add.

“Let’s be getting on, then,” Apfela said, and there was something in her voice that made Gisele suspicious, but it wasn’t until she’d followed the woman another dozen yards—while Niressa watched with sharp interest—that she realised why.

Each of those dozen yards had felt like trying to climb a ladder with huge gaps between rungs, hauling her body against the weight of gravity.

The sensation only grew worse. By the time she reached the next bend in the path, her feet had become lead weights.

She knew in her heart what it meant, but she kept going just in case she was wrong, her progress growing slower and slower until she could only stand, panting with the effort of continuing.

It had taken an achingly long time to move the last few feet.

When she tried to move any further, it was if the air had become solid ahead, her muscles wobbling with the strain but unable to obey.

“Gisele.” Apfela’s voice was kind.

In the background, less kindly, Niressa’s laugh fell like bits of glass shattering on hard rock.

Panic seized Gisele, irrational and overwhelming, and she fought against the invisible yoke until her breath came in gasps and her heartbeat drummed in her ears.

Eventually, limbs shaking, she dropped to the ground, heedless of her skirts, and lay panting in the grass.

Her mind was perfectly blank, and it remained that way for several long minutes until the worst thought in the world welled up.

At least you don’t have to feel guilty for staying, now .

Apfela put a tentative hand on her arm and helped her up. Gisele couldn’t look at her as she turned about to face Skymallow. Everything was immediately easier.

“I don’t think we’ll be having that drink today,” Gisele said. “Another time.”

Apfela just nodded, and Gisele couldn’t bear the sympathy in her eyes or the lack of surprise in her expression; she’d expected this. Had the invitation to accompany her been just a test the entire time? Gisele walked away, and it was offensively easy, like walking downhill.

She had to fight the impulse to break into a run, and despite everything, her heart lifted as Skymallow came closer, at the whimsical, beautiful mess of it.

Or did it lift for a more sinister reason?

Were her emotions due to the magical binding and not her own?

A cold weight grew in her chest, in conflict with the lightness flooding the rest of her body.

The kitchen door of Skymallow opened without her touching it, and the lights flickered on in welcome. She narrowed her eyes at them.

“Did you know I couldn’t leave?” she asked the house, which didn’t respond.

Did Mal know? He’d given such a good impression of being under the bond’s sway, unable to even think of letting her go—as if she’d actually had that choice available! Had it all been an act? A hot, sick anger began to burn low in her stomach.

This time, she didn’t bother searching the house. She simply followed the bond-sense, anger rising with every footstep. In her mind’s eye, her tower loomed. Trapped. Unwanted. And here she was, back in the same situation all over again.

She followed the bond to the library, where her Malediction was sprawled on a couch, a half-filled goblet in one hand and a half-empty bottle on the windowsill beside him.

When she’d left him, he’d been a perfect picture of a gentleman, but somehow in the intervening half hour he’d managed to descend into a perfect picture of dissolution, hair rumpled and neckcloth discarded.

He was staring morosely out the window, and he knocked back the rest of the glass while she watched.

The longing to touch him was so strong that it took everything she had to keep her feet steady on the threshold. This bloody binding magic , she thought grimly.

Mal reached for the bottle again, which wobbled as if the ledge had become sharply more sloped than it had been moments before.

Mal swore and fumbled after it before it could fall, yanking it out of the house’s reach.

“For pagefire’s sake, leave me to feel sorry for myself in peace,” he grumbled at the house.

“No,” she said.

His head snapped up, mouth dropping open. “Gisele.” He had absolutely no right to say her name like that. They weren’t friends. They were—even in her rage she knew it was no longer accurate to call them enemies—unfortunate forced acquaintances.

“Stop day-drinking and come with me.” She needed to know exactly how bad the situation was.

A floral scent abruptly overlaid the room, as if they’d been dunked into a vat of perfume, and the golden goblet Mal was holding went up into…fresh green shoots?

Mal jerked in surprise and dropped it onto the carpet. “How?—”

“Ignore that for now. Come with me.”

“ Ignore it?” he protested. “But?—”

With an exasperated growl, she took his elbow, pulled him up, and marched them both out of the library. Her body sang with the touch. She ignored it.

“Gisele, what in blazes—” he began to protest when she showed no signs of slowing down, grimly steering them towards the front door.

“You’ll see.”

The front door swung open as they approached, Skymallow apparently sensing her mood. They marched down the stepping stones to the front gate, Mal eyeing her with a mixture of alarm and amusement but not resisting her efforts until they had left the garden behind.

“The wards—” he began, pulling against her grip.

“You’ll only be outside them for a few minutes. We’re not going far. Come on.”

With an air of indulging a lunatic, he let himself be led, his hand warm in hers. Her heart beat so fast it hurt. She said nothing until they had stomped all the way across the meadow to the edge of the forest.

“You can go back to the house now,” she told him.

He raised an eyebrow. “Forgive me, but I don’t perfectly understand what this is about?”

“Go!” She waved at him.