Page 24 of The Last Knight (The Cursed Kingdom #5)
Chapter Seventeen
“ Y ou can open your eyes.”
Still unsure, Aubrey waited, then peeked through her lashes. It was what looked like the inside of a cottage, or cabin. If she hadn’t known she was elsewhere, she’d think she was back in her own realm.
“You used to live here?”
“Yes,” Gunther said. “When I first came here, Meliot made me believe I would live here. I did for years, until one day, his guards came for me.” He left the rest unsaid, but after seeing what happened at the castle, Aubrey couldn’t imagine what is must have been like for Gunther as a human among those creatures.
He turned away and walked to a window. Through the glass he studied the surroundings, barely moving, his body taut.
It was hard to imagine what he saw, if it was the actual scenery or the landscape of his homeland. She’d been to the Netherlands several times to visit. It was a beautiful country, which was why she’d gone back.
If ever Gunther were to be released, would he return there?
“I’ve been to the Netherlands, what used to be the Dutch Republic. It is beautiful. The people are lovely,” Aubrey said. She was not exactly sure why she said it, but somehow felt he should know.
When he didn’t reply, but seemed to be listening, she continued.
“Many people ride bicycles there. I have a friend from university living there. Her name is Uma. She and I rode bicycles every day. Oh, and I was lucky enough to be there during the blooming of the tulips. The display of colors is breathtaking. You would love it.”
She inhaled sharply at the last sentence. “I’m sorry, that was insensitive.”
Gunther turned, his face expressionless. “No, it is good to hear about my homeland. I am glad that you were able to visit.”
“Have you been there, I mean since coming here?”
His chest expanded as he took a deep breath. “Yes, a couple of times. But then I was unable to return. Meliot must have blocked it. So, I stopped trying.”
Taking a step closer, his eyes lingered on her face, seeming to trace every part of it, as if memorizing her features. Gunther closed the distance and slowly lifted his hand. Aubrey stood still, unsure of what her reaction would be, at the same time needing his touch.
The feel of his fingers on the side of her jawline sent ripples of awareness through her. The image of his naked body surfaced, the way his muscles rippled with each move, the feel of his skin under her palms as she urged him to move faster, to thrust deeper.
She closed her eyes, unsure what to say to him. How could she reassure or give him comfort when there didn’t seem to be a solution to his situation?
“Kiss me, Gunther,” Aubrey said.
His mouth claimed hers with the ferocity of a starving man finally given a meal. It wasn’t just a kiss, it was a desperate plea, a fierce binding of soul to soul. His arms wrapped around her, unrelenting and warm, while she clung to him as if her touch alone could anchor him to her.
Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, silently willing him to hold on. There has to be a way to save him. There has to be.
A sound rumbled low in his throat, a deep moan that sent heat spiraling through her. She loved that sound. Loved that it came from him, because of her.
Then, just as abruptly, he pulled away.
“Sterling is here,” Gunther said, his voice rough with emotion.
The name snapped her back to reality, though her heart still beat a frantic rhythm in her chest. Without thinking, she smoothed her hair, suddenly self-conscious.
Erin’s description flashed in her mind. A cross between an elf from Lord of the Rings and a K-pop star . Aubrey scoffed at the absurdity of that image…until the door opened.
Her jaw nearly hit the floor. Her eyes widened so far she half-expected them to roll out of her head. The being who entered wasn’t just handsome…he was unreal.
Sterling was ethereal, otherworldly. His fair skin had an opalescent glow, like moonlight on fresh snow.
Thick silver lashes framed eyes the color of frosted starlight.
Waist-length hair, so pale it shimmered like spun platinum, flowed over his shoulders.
His cheekbones were sharp, his jawline sculpted to perfection, as if some divine artisan had shaped him from light itself.
He stood just shy of Gunther’s height, lithe but strong, elegant rather than imposing.
His tunic, dyed in rich shades of lavender, clung to his frame with exquisite tailoring.
The fabric looked impossibly soft, like something between silk and a whisper.
Calf-high boots and a slim belt completed the look, regal and effortless.
His gaze flicked to her briefly—cool, assessing—but without malice. Then he turned to Gunther.
Without a word, the two males approached each other, solemn and composed. They placed their right hands on each other’s left shoulder in a gesture that felt ritualistic, heavy with meaning.
Aubrey stood frozen, her breath caught in her throat. She wasn’t sure what shocked her more, the arrival of a being out of a dream…or the realization that somehow, things had just shifted in a way she couldn’t explain.
“You seem unwell,” Sterling said, his voice a deep, melodic rumble that matched his ethereal presence. His silver eyes, cool and piercing, fixed on Gunther with concern. “What has become of you, my friend?”
Gunther met the Eslander’s gaze without flinching. “It’s growing stronger. Stronger than I imagined. I can feel it crawling beneath my skin…waiting.”
Sterling’s brows drew together in a sharp frown. “Then you should not have summoned me. I will not fight you, Gunther. And Iwill notkill you.”
“If it comes to that,” Gunther said quietly, “you must.”
A heavy silence followed.
Aubrey’s breath caught. “Gunther, no.” Her voice trembled. “Why would you ask that of him? There has to be another way. We’ll find it.”
Sterling turned his gaze on her, the silver eyes assessing her like one might examine an unfamiliar relic. Aubrey instinctively stepped back.
“Who are you?” he asked, his tone not unkind, but threaded with suspicion.
“I am…” she started, but Gunther moved subtly in front of her, placing himself between them with quiet protectiveness.
“She is Aubrey,” he said, his voice level. “She requires help to return to her realm. I didn’t summon her, she came on her own. And there’s no one else with the power to take her. Not that I know of.”
Sterling tilted his head, intrigued. “I can take her back, if that’s what you wish. But you should ask why she’s here before sending her away. If she was drawn to you…she may be part of the answer. Perhaps even the key to breaking free.”
Gunther's jaw tightened. “There was hope. Before perhaps. But the darkness has surged in the past days, and I’ve been unable to keep it at bay. I won’t risk her being taken by them.”
Aubrey stepped around Gunther, determination burning in her chest and held out the bowl and the dagger. “I found these. I don’t think it’s a coincidence. Why else would I appear here right after discovering them?”
Sterling arched a brow, the slightest glimmer of curiosity sparking in his otherwise unreadable face. He took the bowl from her hands and turned it over in his palm, his fingers tracing the strange carvings.
“Interesting…” he murmured. “There are bowls like these in Esland. Rare. Often hidden.”
He glanced up at Gunther, a spark of something deeper behind his eyes. “Perhaps she’s more than an accidental guest. Perhaps she’s the beginning of your salvation.”
Her heart jumped. “What is it used for?”
“A myriad of things. Mixing of herbs and grasses that are used for ailments or for solidifying spiritual strength.”
“What of the opposite, spiritual attachments or attacks?”
Again, the prince shrugged. “I am not a magic, but a warrior. I rarely require a healer or any treatments.”
“But there are people in your realm who are prolific in using this bowl?” Aubrey replied. “Do you think one of them, a magic, could save Gunther from the darkness?”
Sterling looked saddened when he shook his head, glancing at Gunther.
“It is very likely that whoever attempts to help Gunther will probably be killed by that which binds him.
The darkness is very powerful and will fight with all its might not to be taken away from its host. I do not believe it is possible.
“Would you do it?” Sterling asked circling Aubrey, the icy eyes not moving away from her. “Go as far as to risk your life for not only your own kind, but a total stranger?”
Aubrey refused to give up. “He is not a stranger. There has to be someone who is willing to help, a strong magic.”
“Stop,” Gunther said, putting his hand on Aubrey’s shoulder. “Right now, what is important is for you to return to your realm.”
Your realm . He’d not said, “our realm.” Did he not consider himself part of the human realm anymore?
Aubrey’s head snapped at the force when Sterling seized her arm and yanked and spun her, shoving her behind him. A metallic ring echoed as he pulled a sword, its gleaming tip pointed straight at Gunther.
“What…” she began, but the words died in her throat.
“The darkness,” Sterling said grimly, “it’s consuming him.”
Gunther didn’t look like Gunther anymore. His form wavered, splitting into multiple versions of himself, four, maybe five, each flickering like a broken reflection in shattered glass. The copies slid apart, then snapped back together in a nauseating rhythm.
Around his boots, shadows coiled, a vile, writhing mist that clung to his legs like living serpents. His muscles strained, cords standing out in his neck as he fought to hold something back. His fists clenched and shook, arms rigid as he battled against an invisible tide.
“Move!” Sterling barked pulling her out of the door dragging her behind a nearby tree. “He’s losing control.”
“I can’t,” Aubrey whispered, voice trembling as her eyes filled with tears. “Iwon’tleave him. Not now.”