Page 12 of To Sway a Prince (Tempting Thieves)

12

STRANGE VOWS

W hy was Ramiel insisting on this vow? It unsettled me, but I could not spot a trap. It was just…intrusive. "I will vow that if Zephyrus no longer wants me to remain here, then I will depart…unless his life is at stake and I believe that in remaining I can save him."

I half expected him to protest or snatch his hand away and reject the vow. After all, if he was going to try to trick me into leaving, that was what made the most sense. But instead a smile broke over his face, far more satisfied than I expected. He kept his palm turned upward. "I accept this vow. Now make it."

My instincts prickled at this, my aura stretching out. I couldn't spot any deception within him. No harm toward Zephyrus or me. Only that this vow was exceptionally important to him. Turning my hand over, I scrawled the runes over my palm. They glowed golden, tickling my palm. "I so vow it and bind this to my spirit, my flesh, my soul, and my mind." I pressed my hand to his then, palm to palm.

A pleasant warmth flooded me as our palms connected—not just the heat and energy of the runes, but something deeper. I'd made such vows before, of course, but never one that felt so... binding. So permanent. And over something so basic and small. I would have obeyed Zephyrus's wishes even without the vow.

Ramiel knew this too. So why ask for the vow?

I stared at our joined hands. His dwarfed mine, strong and surprisingly warm, especially for a sorcerer. His fingers flexed slightly over mine, curling ever so briefly over the tops of my fingers. Calluses lined his index and middle finger as well as a point at the base of his palm. Heat flared within me.

What was wrong with me? This had to be loneliness. Maybe just a need for something more permanent. I'd spent fifteen years with Zephyrus, never lingering anywhere long enough to call home. Always moving, always watching over my shoulder. The thought of remaining here, even temporarily, made something inside me twist.

"Is something wrong?" Ramiel asked.

His voice cut into my consciousness. I pulled my hand away, flexing my fingers as the last of the golden light faded. "Nothing. Just...sorcerers usually have cold hands." I shrugged, pushing away the odd sensation. Forcing a smile, I lifted my gaze to his.

"Do they?" He sounded amused, one eyebrow lifting. "I've never noticed."

The heat was still unpleasant in my cheeks and up my spine as I gestured toward his chest. "We should get to work on those knots before they tighten again. The grave bane is temporary. We need to find a place where you can lie down. And you'll need to remove your tunic and surcoat."

He scoffed at me, his eyebrow arching higher.

More heat blazed through me. "Not like that." I tried to think of something to say to ease the tension. "I'm not just trying to see you without your shirt." The words stumbled out, making me seem more flustered than I was. "If it makes you feel any better, you're not my type." A lie. Bold and stinging. And it had stumbled past my lips so quickly. Polph, that wasn't what I meant to say.

"Well," he said dryly. "That makes me feel wonderful."

I shook my head, not certain whether the lie or shame hurt more. More importantly, I couldn't bear the thought of him believing that. "No. I'm sorry. That was cruel." I released a tight breath. I really had lost my ability to deal with people. The truth seemed the wisest course now, and I hoped he would accept it and let us move on. Thread rot, this man was getting under my skin. "You are very handsome, Ramiel. It was a poor excuse of a joke. If I were one who believed in mates or love, I'd certainly be interested."

He chuckled at this. The lines in his brow deepened, and some formed around his eyes. "You don't believe in mates or love?" He motioned for me to follow him, then picked up the chest and the book, and strode toward the staircase.

I twitched my shoulders, realizing how poorly I had expressed myself. This was so tedious. Why did he bring out the dumbest parts of me? "It's…no, that's not the right way to put it. I just…I decided that based on the life I lead, I was never going to be with someone like that. I…" What was wrong with me? I stiffened, blinking in shock. Had I really been about to tell him that I had scourged my mate bond? That I had eliminated that male from my life to protect him? "Some people aren't good for love. At least not like that." If I weren't so good at picking up on spells, I'd have suspected he had enchanted me. But not even someone as powerful or skilled as him could do that without leaving behind some trace.

A soft laugh escaped his lips, more relaxed and calm than at any point before. Oddly so. He started up the staircase. "I can understand that. I made a similar choice. No woman deserves the fate that would await her here with me." The stairs creaked beneath his booted feet. At the next landing, he pressed his hand against the door and pressed it open. The door yielded on silent hinges, opening into a hall that smelled of magic, cedar, incense, and smoke. "Do you love it though?"

"Love what?" I almost added 'being alone?' but I held off.

As I stepped into the hall, I realized that this was the one floor that the pulseporting had never dropped me, but it was clearly where Ramiel lived most of the time. The shield with the three swords was marked on the wall, that comforting, peaceful sensation present even more than before. The air was warmer here, quiet and pleasant. Dark-blue velvet curtains hung at the windows, the one nearest us partially opened as if he had been checking outside. A textured leather book lay on one of the tables beneath an oil color painting of a peace treaty signing among elementals and rune fae. Probably something he had been reading before he got distracted. White beeswax candles, some half burnt, littered the tables and shelves as well as the oil lamps, and a series of hooks held several cloaks, some weather-stained, others mended, all dark in color.

Somehow this floor felt like him. And I didn't know how to explain how that made me feel.

"Flying through the world with a dragon and your will," he said.

"Oh…" I dipped my head forward. A heaviness stole over me, but I forced a smile. "It's beautiful. The freedom. The wind in my hair. The possibilities." The cold nights. The hard ground. The never knowing how much longer this could continue. "Is that something you wanted?"

"Thalorion and I did our fair share when I was a child. But my calling is here. Some things cannot be escaped." He stopped in front of another door and pressed it open.

"Would you? If…if you could and no one would get hurt?" I followed him in. As I crossed the threshold, I halted.

This room wasn't what I expected. It was lovely, yes. Tidy and pleasant as well. It was all comforting, calming shades—deep indigo curtains covered the windows, pale lavender walls, and a velvet throw folded neatly at the foot of the bed over a periwinkle duvet. To the right was a blue velvet couch that looked comfortable enough to sleep on. A glass lamp lit up in response to a gesture from him and cast a gentle glow over the dark wood furniture, and the air carried the faint scent of chamomile and cedar. "This isn't your room," I said.

He glanced back at me and smiled a little. "No. I thought I would show you the guest room since I found you sleeping in the Covenant Chamber. As you can see, it's safe. You can lock the door. The window can be opened, and given your ability to break into the tower, I know you could easily get out. If you're going to be staying here, I feel it would be better if you had a more comfortable place to rest."

"I apologize if my being there caused offense—" I started. Once more that damnable shame stole over me. Why was I so concerned about what he thought of me? I didn't usually care so long as no one got hurt.

He crossed over to the small polished table before the couch. He curled his fingers and traced a design rapidly in the air. A silver tea service appeared, steam rising from the ornate pot's spout. "The chamber is a peaceful place. One I have enjoyed many times. It causes no offense to sleep there. But it is not good for restorative rest. All those commemorations of the sacred bonds can be disruptive, especially if one is sensitive. You were having a nightmare when I found you."

That didn't have anything to do with the location. Nightmares always plagued me. And almost always the same one or some variation of it. "It—it's all right. The room had nothing to do with that."

"Is there something that could be done to make the guest room more to your liking then?" he asked, his manner calm but curious as if we were not about to tug on the cursed knots that engulfed his heart.

"No—no, it's nice. Thank you. I'm just not used to it. That's all." His being kind to me and so hospitable made me feel worse and more on edge. Maybe he was feeling lonely as well. Perhaps that was all this was. I shook my head. "Listen. It's all very lovely, but why don't we just get to work on that curse?"

He glanced up at me, his expression almost coy. "Oh?" Picking up the teapot, he poured two cups of tea into the delicate porcelain cups. Each one had a series of runes worked into a floral design. "You want me to strip off half my clothes now? You're in quite the rush."

I folded my arms, refusing to back down and show just how embarrassed that comment made me. The worst part was that if I didn't find him attractive, this wouldn't be embarrassing at all. "Fine. It's your life that's on the line. I'd have assumed you'd want to do something important with what little time we have, but if you'd rather talk, we can talk. Why not answer my question? Would you travel more if you could do so and no one get hurt?"

"This is important." He handed me the cup and saucer, then sat on one end of the blue velvet couch.

After taking a long draught of the tea, he leaned back. "I would have traveled more, but in the end, I would always return here. It's not an easy life, but it is mine. And there is something to knowing that you are giving back to the world while also being able to live near such wonder and terror."

I breathed in the fragrant tea, chamomile and lavender filling my lungs. It had been ages since I'd had a hot cup of anything. I cut my gaze to him once more, then bowed my head slightly. "Thank you. It's delicious. But…you don't have long, Ramiel. Shouldn't we be focusing on eliminating this curse? You had your own solutions you were pursuing."

He took a long slow sip, then lowered the cup. "The leviathan is what disturbs the Chasm currently. We sealed it. He has returned to sleep. He usually sleeps for at least a week in between attempts, sometimes longer. He'll rest and then hunt a bit. Over the coming days, the pain will likely worsen. We gave him some relief. When it becomes too much for him, then we are at risk for the others breaking through as well. It's become much trickier because I couldn't go into the Chasm to heal him after he was injured this time. So now we wait while he rests and try to heal him when he attacks. But the advantage of this is that we do have a little time."

"How can you be certain he will stay asleep that long and nothing else will try to escape? Things go wrong."

"The leviathans are the only creatures on their side powerful enough to break through the elements that keep that which is in the Chasm within the Chasm. And you're right. Unless there's a miracle, I don't have long. So…" A contemplative look stole over his face, his head slightly bowed. "Why not enjoy a few quiet moments with another rune fae?"

"I'm not completely rune fae," I said. "Only my father was rune."

"You must have been trained well. You cast with strong precision," he said.

"The ones I know well, yes. I'm better with knots." I took a sip of the tea. It stirred an old memory nearly forgotten. One of my instructors had loved a similar tea, though I remembered it was a touch more floral. "If I had to come up with something on the spot, it would be trickier."

A silence spread between us. To my surprise, it was…comfortable. There was a macabre undertone to it, knowing that he was savoring his last moments if we weren't successful. But we would be. Still...my curiosity pricked at my patience. More than halfway finished with my tea, I tilted my head. "So what exactly is attacking you? An omen?—"

"An omenfang." He set his jaw. "Years ago when I was a younger man, I was with Thalorion. We were traveling and stopped at a river. I wasn't paying attention, and I crushed a spirit house. One of the tiny ones. Nothing lived in it at that time, but the witch who guarded those lands was understandably furious. And…she cursed me."

"With an omenfang?" I cradled the cup in both hands, its warmth seeping into my palms.

He nodded, his gaze fixed on the window past me. A little light streamed along the edges. "It was an overreaction. I offered to rebuild the house, to repair the damage. It wasn't enough. She was insulted and angry. I was barely an adult when it happened. My family tried to help me undo it. But the omenfang was bound to me with unusual ferocity. Each time I used my abilities, it drew it in closer until I reached a certain point. And each time that reservoir is smaller, constricting my powers and draining my life. Tending to the Chasm and the beings within is a task that requires a great deal. What has made it more difficult is that after a certain point, the curse itself began to…disturb the Chasm itself. It changed it, making it impossible for me to enter."

"Disturb it?" This curse he was under was certainly disproportionate, but that was also true to so many fae. We weren't really a measured people. Some did better than others, but some…well, they gave us all a dreadful reputation. "Did the witch who did this intend it to be that way?"

He shook his head. "No. At least not nearly so bad as it was. At that point, there were only a few Sentinels left. We returned to her and beseeched her for mercy. We had failed time and again to remove the strands, and it was becoming increasingly difficult."

I frowned. "And still, even knowing what you were doing and the risk to the Chasm, she refused?"

"No. She relented." His finger tapped the side of the porcelain cup. "She even agreed to come and remove it, but the curse refused to respond. She cast it when she was in a rageful and distraught state. As a result, it was not fully what she expected. She vowed to make things right, even if it cost her her life."

A heaviness pressed upon me, cold dread building within my core.

He let the moment linger, then sighed. "Sadly, she paid that price and it was not enough. One of the chasm wraiths destroyed her as we battled the omenfang and sought to calm the Chasm. It ripped her spirit out of her body, and by the time we found her, it was too late."

The dark poetry of dying in part because of something that had been done to harm another was not lost on me. "It sounds like a dangerous curse."

"It is." He cut his gaze back to me. "And beyond that, you should be cautious. Whenever someone tampers with a curse, there is the risk that it will have unintended side effects on the one who interferes."

"I know that well," I responded. My heart tightened. "Anyone who interferes with a curse risks that the curse comes upon them or fulfills in a new way. It's the risk of being a knotweaver." And I had seen just how devastating it could be. "But sometimes it is simply too dangerous to allow it to remain."

"Mine has been a part of me for so long I can scarcely remember life without it." He stared at me now unblinking. "I will not fault you if you don't want to continue with this. I don't want to harm you. Sometimes all we can do is our best and then we must let it be. I am at peace if this is where I end. It is not necessary for you to risk yourself."

"If I undo the knots, then the power evaporates," I said. "I just have to be right about what I undo. And I will be. If there's a central thread, which I'm sure it will, then removing that will be enough to unravel it. I can also loosen these knots in an emergency and give you more breath. Was the witch who put this on you truly unable to remove any aspect of it?"

"She said the magic twisted because my father and mother and uncle attempted to remove it, but later she also admitted that in her rage, it had warped beyond her capabilities. She did apologize though."

I scoffed, placing the now empty cup on the table. "As if that did any good."

The small nod he gave suggested he had been through this many times before. His manner was of a man who had accepted what had happened and now worked to make the most of what remained. "I appreciated the sentiment nonetheless." Setting the teacup down, he sighed. "Are you ready to begin?"

I nodded.

He removed his surcoat and tunic, folding each one and setting it on the table. Then he removed his boots and stretched out on the couch, his head resting on the velvet armrest. It was a serious moment, and I tried not to let my thoughts drift, but thread rot, the man was exceptionally handsome. His muscles were as perfect as if they had been sculpted from marble. A few scars etched across his chest and back. Knowing the kind of fae he was, he had chosen to keep their appearance. That small bit of vanity made me smile. And they certainly drew attention to the broad planes of his torso and the sharp v's at his waist.

Kneeling beside him, I stretched out my hand and reached out with my aura as well. The gold light lit up his chest, highlighting the dark bonds and vicious knots. My stomach twisted. I would not wish this on my worst enemy. It was even worse than it had seemed at the start. The knots themselves were small, bound and twisted in such a way that they surely hurt him constantly even if all he did was breathe.

He closed his eyes for a moment as if steadying himself when I placed my hand above his heart.

"You're in pain."

"The discomfort is not because of you," he said firmly, despite the faint strain in his voice at the end.

I shook my head and leaned in closer, my fingers pressing lightly against his flesh. A frown creased my brow. These didn't simply surround his heart, some pierced it. And some of the strands were layered and then knotted together. I swallowed hard, then flexed my fingers. "This will not be pleasant."

"But you're here. That makes it better." That small smile of his made my stomach flip, but I gave him a sharp look.

"Just stay steady." I swallowed hard and then drew in another deep breath. Carefully I searched over his heart with my aura, flexing my fingers and directing my energy over him. Not piercing. Not cutting. Nothing except examining.

"Thread rot," I breathed, unable to keep the shock from my voice. Never had I seen such a brutal weaving, a complex lattice of suffering and cruelty. It constricted the flow of his own magic far more than I'd ever thought possible.

"Your confidence inspires me."

I cut my gaze back up to his. And when our eyes met, I knew that this was already clear to him. He did not have real hope that I could help him. He was simply allowing me to see this part of his life…the very short breadth of what remained for him. So many questions rose within me. "I will help you," I vowed. Then I flexed my fingers over the bonds.

For almost an hour, I searched in near silence. He did not protest at my proddings, though his jaw sometimes twitched. A curse like this had a central thread, but it was guarded. There were a couple ways to potentially handle this, but first…I focused on the smallest knot at the end. Removing my pale gold blade, I held it above his heart and directed my own magic in. The knot pulsed, its light a sickly shade. Carefully I separated his energy from the knot itself, ensuring that only the witch's magic remained in that knot. Then I cut.

The knot snapped free, taking four small strands with it. Two rejoined, forming a straight line while the other two did not. I gave a small gasp of delight as I held the severed knot aloft.

"Astraia!" He sat up, gesturing toward my hand.

The four strands snapped around my wrist, trying to burrow into my flesh.