Page 13 of To Sway a Prince (Tempting Thieves)

13

KNOTS

I winced, biting back a pained cry as the threads thrashed at my wrist and tightened, the ends poking hard.

Ramiel grasped my arm and placed the base of his palm just below the threads. Light flared from his hand. At the same time, I channeled my own energy back up into the threads, severing them. They tightened around my wrist again, then died.

Wincing, I cut them free with my blade. Though it was dull to cutting flesh, it excelled at slicing through these magical fibers. They vanished after a moment though the sting remained.

"That is concerning," Ramiel said, his voice grimmer than I'd heard it before now.

I raised an eyebrow. "More concerning than the fact that they are killing you?" I rubbed my wrist. "As far as I'm concerned, this is just wretched magic trying not to die. It's easy enough to manage." My skin prickled and stung from the patch, and a sharp sensation cut through me, fear piercing my heart. "It's not the first time I've seen something like this."

"Are you all right?" he asked. His brow was still furrowed, and his hand curled over my arm, just below the point where the threads had tried to burrow in.

"Yes. I'm fine." The heat flared stronger within me, and I thought about tugging away. Yet I didn't move. "It's fine."

He gave a noncommittal hum, his gaze fastened on my wrist still. "Did it hurt you?"

"No." I planted my hand firmly against his shoulder and pressed him back. "But it will kill you if we don't deal with it."

His eyebrow twitched. "Look at you taking control."

I clicked my tongue, but that pleasant heat flared through me again. Thread rot, I was lonely. This was not the time to be getting all moony about this man. Though I had to focus a little more, I pressed my aura out again and highlighted the cursed strands. "Even with what you did, one of the strands did not grow back. Two grew back immediately. One grew back after you helped me. But one did not. That means we have an advantage."

That dark chuckle of his made me burn all the more. "Assuming nothing changes."

"Stop being so dour and let me work." I pretended not to notice just how handsome he was as my fingers stroked lines along his chest and sought out the next weakest knot. My preference would have been to go straight to the central knot and central thread, but I couldn't even spot it. Instead I continued working and succeeded in removing another smaller knot. It glowed, resisted, and then cut against me. This time I removed it even faster and dissolved the energy that remained.

The threads still coiled around my wrist and tried to bite and cut, the strands surprisingly sharp even though I tried to cut them as bluntly as possible. Ramiel tensed more at those moments, watching every movement of the threads and sometimes putting his hand over mine to destroy the threads. "You don't have to do this," he said after the fourth one.

The heat between us intensified. My mouth was going dry. I moistened my lips with my tongue as I leaned closer, steadying myself with one hand splayed across his chest and the other directing my energy toward the knots. "No. But I want to."

"Are you in pain?"

My eyebrow arched like his as I tilted my head, the blade loose between my fingers. "Ramiel, you are the one whose heart is bound in cursed knots that defy standard magic. If we should be worried about anyone?—"

He scoffed at this, cutting me off. Concern still shone in his eyes. "I am aware of what my fate is likely to be. I never wanted to drag anyone else into it with me."

As he crooked his arm back behind his head, I noted the charm on his pendant. Small. Likely disguised. A suppression charm. His magic was wavering at the moment. I found a faint but sad smile tugging at my mouth.

As I removed another four strands, they snapped along my wrist and tried to cut. One scraped especially deep. I winced and destroyed it. Damn it. That one did hurt more.

"You know, you really should consider working with a spindle for this," he said. "Give the magic something else to latch onto."

"I don't work with spindles," I said firmly.

He propped himself more on his side, angling toward me. His brow scrunched. "A knotweaver who doesn't use spindles at all? How do you manage the longer cursed threads?"

"I destroy them." There were a few techniques I had mastered over the years, but generally speaking I simply avoided working with such curses. My blade helped a lot.

His frown deepened as he contemplated this. "There's little sense in?—"

"I don't work with spindles." I didn't care if the threads left me bloodied. So long as I lived, I never wanted to see a spindle or a spinning wheel. My stomach twisted, my throat knotting with emotion. I tried to swallow it, but a mist of tears blurred my eyes. "Just leave it be, Ramiel. We both know I'm not in danger from this. It's just uncomfortable. If it turns out I need a spindle, we'll figure something else out."

Though his eyes narrowed, he gave a small nod. Concern. That was what was in his eyes. And I hated it. Because I wanted to explain. And now wasn't the time.

I leaned in, putting my face closer to the cursed threads and trying desperately to focus on that.

It was a slow process, and the tediousness of it all made it hard to not let my thoughts drift. I needed to talk about something else—something that didn't involve me. "Did you start wearing suppression charms after you realized you couldn't escape the curse?"

His eyebrows lifted at this question. Then he gave a slow nod. "Yes. And usually I keep it hidden. You have a good eye if you saw through that enchantment."

"Your skills are a little sapped at the moment," I said, offering a small smile. "Who was she? Did you meet her and then decide this? Or is it just a precautionary measure?" An odd bit of jealousy curled within me. Foolish, I knew. It wasn't as if he would ever choose someone like me. So why be jealous at all?

"No," he said softly, eyes shaded as he drifted in thought. "No. I knew from the time I was a youth that I had a mate. I was the only one in my family to have one foretold by destiny, though others in my family of course found happiness and love. But I…I had someone intended for me. Only one person intended for me. Then I learned that if I wed and had children of my own, the curse would pass to them as well. And when I learned how swiftly the bonds were tightening and the dangers that it brought with it, I knew I could not sentence anyone to such a fate. Especially not the one person I was supposed to protect and love above all others."

I tugged at the knots, my heart clenching. The subjects of mates and love and happiness were complicated and nuanced among the fae. To have a mate carried with it expectations and sacred duties. "You sound like you love her." And a small part of me whimpered to admit that. It was a beautiful thing. A respectable thing. And all I could think of was how I wanted someone to feel that for me. It would not be hard for me to feel that for someone…someone like…

He nodded his head. "I do," he said, his voice quiet. "I love her even though I can never have her. She is far too beautiful and wondrous to be shackled to death."

I swallowed hard, the taste of regret bitter on my tongue. "Do you regret it? Cutting yourself off from her?"

"No." He said it so firmly it bordered on harsh.

I tried to swallow that knot of emotion in my throat. When I severed another knot, the threads coiled at my wrist and stung more. A few tears rolled down my cheeks, and I dashed them away. "You're better than me," I said, my voice thick.

"I doubt that." He put his hand over my wrist to soothe the sting.

I kept my eyes down, not meeting his gaze and trying not to think about the warmth and strength of his hand around mine. The urge to fling myself into his arms or curl up beside him thrust itself into my mind, and I had to shove it away. "You were trying to keep the omenfang trapped. Or you were trying to trap something else, and then the glass broke. Was that one of the other solutions you were testing?"

"Yes." He measured his breaths, keeping them slow and steady. The warm cedar scent intensified. "I still have a few more possibilities. You are buying me time and breath. For that I am grateful. Already I feel better than I have in days."

We talked about all manner of things, mercifully avoiding the topic of mates, love, and family. It had been foolish of me to even bring it up. Some of the knots were more resistant than others. It took minutes to dispatch a single one, and a few reformed entirely and had to be removed a second and third time before they only returned with fewer threads and eventually vanished entirely.

At last my hands cramped. They ached, and the well of my magic felt dry. I sank back and rubbed my hands. "It's a start," I said, though already I was calculating how many hours it would likely take to remove them all. We had a very long, long journey ahead of us if I was to undo them this way.

He eased the rest of his way onto his side. His expression was weary but relieved. "One for which I am exceedingly grateful." He nodded toward my hands. "Are you in pain?"

"It's nothing serious." I cracked my fingers and then flexed them, feeling the ache in my knuckles and wrists.

"You should eat. The larder is fully stocked." He stood and picked up his tunic and surcoat. Carefully he pulled them on and adjusted the shoulders. "I apologize that I cannot join you. There are matters in the tower that require attention."

"Do you need help?"

He took my hand in his. His thumb brushed over my palm, kneading gently to ease the tension. "You can help me best by recovering. By restoring your magic."

I tried to pull away, feeling self-conscious, but he held my hand firm. "You're sure?"

His gaze held mine. "Yes. Please. Sleep in the guest room tonight. Eat. If there is more you can do, I promise I will tell you. But you have already done more than enough."

"Given that I broke into your tower, I feel like I should make myself useful. Seems the best way to make up for it."

"Even accounting for that, you have done more than enough."

He helped me to my feet and then released my hand slowly, his touch lingering. "You need to eat too," I said firmly.

He gave another small, scoffing laugh. "I eat."

"I may need you to prove that." I folded my arms.

"Very well. We will share a meal together at some point soon. But for now, I must see to my other responsibilities." He took my hand in his once more and pressed a kiss to my aching knuckles. "Please make use of this room. All that you need will be in here. Including garments if you need them."

A teasing response leaped to my lips. Asking him whether he thought I smelled or if he simply preferred the thought of seeing me in something other than my riding leathers were both possibilities, but I found myself simply smiling and thanking him instead.

The air grew thicker and smelled more of dragons, hay, and blood as I descended the staircase back to the stable. It was warm, almost humid in the hollow core of the tower. Upon reaching the door, I peered inside.

Zephyrus was in the cell nearest the door this time. He lifted his head, a low growl rumbling up his throat that soon turned into a chuff. That deep, happy trill made my heart lighten even more.

The other dragons stirred and shifted, a few rustling their wings. They were likely exhausted from the day's endeavors. Thalorion was in one of the cells now, head resting on his forelegs like a large cat as two of the others curled up beside him. He watched me with half-lidded eyes.

I crossed as close to Zephyrus as I could. "You did good out there. You and the rest of your kin. I never knew you could fly in formation like that. It sounds like that isn't close to half of what you're capable of."

Zephyrus lifted his chin, his gaze still fixed on me. Steam curled from his nostrils. A series of low chirrs and the way he puffed his chest confirmed he was proud. As he should be.

I picked up a stick from the corner of the room and used it to scratch his jaw through the bars. He rubbed against it, curling his upper lip and pressing his teeth on the edge.

Soon I'd be able to hug him, and perhaps soon we could fly together again. I spent a few more moments giving him the best scratches I could, spoke to the other dragons, and then left. I really didn't want to sleep, but sleep was necessary to restore my magic.

As I neared the door to the guest room, I heard voices. Caein and Ramiel. My heart tightened, and my stomach somersaulted. I should just go back to my room and prepare for rest. But maybe I should say good night.

I slipped down the hall, drawing closer to the voices, then paused when I heard Ramiel say "I don't understand why you are suddenly so antagonistic. You said you liked her, didn't you? You won't be here in a few days anyway. Why wouldn't you want Astraia here?"