Page 14 of To Sway a Prince (Tempting Thieves)

14

AN INVITATION

I held my breath as I heard the two speaking about me. Pressing my hand to the wall, I listened closely.

Caein sighed. "It isn't that. I am fond of her. I'm simply surprised to learn that you invited her to remain. Especially given what she is."

Their voices were soft enough that I had to focus to hear all of the words. Ramiel said something I couldn't quite catch.

"This will only make it harder," Caein responded. "Remember what you told me: you don't want to burden anyone with the grief. She won't be able to remove the knots in time."

"I have other methods I am using to resolve the issue. But more than that, perhaps…" Papers rustled. Something scraped over the desk. A sigh followed as if Ramiel did not want to say it aloud.

"You know so long as the curse remains it cannot be so, your Highness. The omenfang is?—"

"You don't have to remind me." His voice sharpened. "I am well aware of what it does and of the limitations. If I take some small measure of comfort in her presence, what harm is there in that? I am strong enough to endure."

"You're the one who told me?—"

"She doesn't want to leave. If I cast her out, she will return."

"Yes, I was there when she launched herself up with Giselle. She's lucky Giselle is so patient with foundlings."

"They all like her. Even Thalorion."

"Of course they do now. They know she saved you. But given what you have said and what you claim to value, I do not see that this is wise."

Ramiel spoke again, his voice more contemplative yet still clear. "Perhaps it is not perfect, but there are advantages to this. Perhaps she will care for the dragons when I am gone. Perhaps she will help you find some new host structure."

So that was his game. He wanted me here to help take over his duties so to speak, even if I wasn't a Sentinel. Somewhat manipulative, yes. But part of me respected him for it. Knowing what he wanted made me feel more confident as well. I could work with that. I…I did care about him. Odd as it was.

"I do not require her assistance. I have three other structures which I can use. Just because the process did not go entirely as planned does not mean I am helpless," Caein responded tightly. "And I would rather you focus your efforts on surviving the curse, my friend. Survival matters little when everyone you care about is gone. I do not deny that it pleases me to know someone will be here with you when I must go to the other hosts. It weighs heavily on me when I do. But what happens when she learns?—"

"Enough. Give me peace this night," Ramiel said, his voice rougher.

Caein scoffed. "There won't be much peace for you if she comes to comfort you in your dreams."

"Go on then, shade." It almost sounded as if Ramiel was smiling. "Other tasks are far more important than us prattling. And I doubt she'll visit me as I dream. If everyone sleeps peacefully and restfully tonight, then that's more than enough good to have come from this. I won't be greedy."

My heart warmed to hear him say that. In truth, to see him within my dreams would be welcome indeed. Especially compared to what I usually dreamed about.

I returned to the guest bedroom. Once inside, I found everything I could possibly need. And I used it.

It was strange to bathe with water and soap rather than relying only on my magic for personal hygiene. The simple night shift left me feeling vulnerable and exposed but more like a person than I had in ages. It was even stranger to lie down in a bed again. To draw silken sheets up over myself. This one smelled of lavender and cedar, comforting and warm. The softness made my body ache a little, and the sheets were cool against my skin. When I reached out with my aura, I noted several wards woven into the walls along with sigils intended for protection, peace, and rest.

I'd have felt safer with Zephyrus with me. It brought a faint smile to my lips to imagine him in here at my side. He'd insist on being on the bed, even though it would barely fit his chest. Most likely he'd smash the bed to kindling, then roll around on it and crush the wood into splinters before tucking in around me. He was back with his kin in a giant cuddle puddle of dragons, able to thrash and turn and grunt as much as he wanted without risking crushing anyone.

Those images made me smile. I closed my eyes, holding onto the good images, the warm feelings, telling myself there was a way through. Within minutes, sleep took me. Dreams found me swiftly.

This time Ramiel was there. Not the stern, guarded version but the gentler, warmer one. The one who soothed the sting of the threads on my wrist, who watched with shaded eyes. We stood together on a balcony overlooking the Chasm, its swirling mist ethereal and beautiful from this distance.

"It is beautiful even if it is dangerous," he said, his voice carrying on the wind. "It's all been worth it here. I'm only sad that it has to end so soon. I wish I could have visited it again without the curse. It was a wondrous place."

I turned to face him, surprised by how close he stood and yet longing to be closer. "It's not going to end."

"Everything ends, Astraia. All things have their time." His eyes were clearer than I'd ever seen them, the violet rich and bright. They warmed as he smiled, small wrinkles forming at the edges of his eyes and temples. He reached out, his fingers brushing against my cheek. "It's sad that ours is so short."

"It isn't over though," I said. The tears stung, and my body ached. It felt like I had a fever, and my shoulder throbbed, the pain beneath the scars almost as strong as it had been when I seared my flesh. "Why would you give up?"

"I'm not giving up." He cupped one hand along my cheek. "I chose the wisest course to protect what I love. Sometimes, Astraia, all we can do is our best and then we must let go and allow what is to be what is."

He said it so gently, and yet I wanted to sob.

His hand closed around mine, warm and solid as he brought it once more to his lips. I leaned closer, drawn to his warmth as his other arm moved around my waist.

"If there was no curse, I would ask you to stay," he whispered, his breath tickling my ear. "Not for the dragons, not for duty. Stay because?—"

The balcony crumbled beneath my feet. Ramiel's hand slipped from mine, and I fell, screaming into darkness.

Then came the familiar nightmare—the one that haunted me since childhood.

No. No!

All right. The darkness engulfed me. I knew what to do.

Just a dream.

Just a dream.

I held myself tight, shaking as the air became thick and stale. Threads spun in the darkness and curled around me. I was alone in a pitch-black space. Invisible cords wrapped around my chest, my throat, my limbs. With each breath, they tightened.

I tried to scream, but even my voice abandoned me.

It didn't matter.

This was just a dream.

A dream where I was alone.

No answer came. No one ever answered, but it would end. I could endure until it ended.

The cords constricted further. I couldn't move, couldn't breathe. But I couldn't stop fighting.

I strained and gasped. Knots appeared before my eyes.

I woke, flailing, my hands seizing the covers. Blankets and sheets covered my face. Where was I? Wait— the Eye of the Needle—the Sentinel tower. Zephyrus. Ramiel.

My shoulder throbbed and ached even more. I pressed my hand to it, wincing. Why was it getting worse? I'd scourged myself years ago. Couldn't it ever be done hurting? It was like one final indignity, an even more present reminder of my mistake.

My breaths ragged, I lay there. Was it the bed that had made it worse? I swallowed hard, my mouth dry. Maybe. Or maybe it was because I was still separated from Zephyrus. The binding spell didn't hurt, but its pressure remained steady.

Still, I needed to get this day started. The sooner I finished restoring my magic and eliminated the knotted curses around Ramiel's heart, the sooner the binding spell would be removed and I could ensure Zephyrus and the others were safe.

Time to get dressed.

As Ramiel had promised, the wardrobe did in fact hold numerous garments. As soon as I reached inside, a shimmer of silver light passed over my hand and into the garment I touched. The mossy-green fabric shimmered a moment as well, transforming before my eyes. When I removed it, I found it to be a soft woven gown with an embroidered neckline and sleeves that depicted dragons weaving through clouds and mountains. The silver sash hung low on my hips, and it smelled of lavender and cedar with just a hint of green tea and chamomile. It made me think of the tea we had shared yesterday.

That memory comforted me somehow, almost as much as being with Zephyrus. Funny. It had only been a couple days, and Ramiel was now the closest friendship I had with someone other than a dragon. Caein too, though certainly different.

I made my way out, smelling melting butter, warm cinnamon, and yeasty dough. The scent guided me to a kitchen several doors down. When I pressed my hand to the door, it gave way easily.

Inside I found a charming kitchen with stone walls and a wood floor. The large fireplace dominated the back wall with a massive cast-iron stove positioned to the left. Herbs hung from the hooks in orderly rows along with strings of onions and garlic. Slices of crystals hung in the window as wind chimes, singing and humming softly. The cupboards were all polished walnut with intricate runes etched into the panels. Blue porcelain bowls sat on the counter, a few eggs rolled up against one. The air shimmered and wavered over a lump of bread dough situated in the middle of an uneven circle of flour.

"Caein?" I hoped it was him. Usually there was only one Nolche in a single building.

"Ah, you're awake." All the utensils jolted and shuddered as Caein's voice rose in pitch. I had no idea what he had looked like in his fae form, but the image of an older man smiling flashed into my mind. "I wasn't able to offer you breakfast yesterday. And you did not eat dinner either. You and Ramiel can be so alike."

"He doesn't eat regularly either?"

"You both get caught up in your tasks." Caein sighed. The spoon rattled against a bowl of half-beaten eggs. "And I do not require food any longer so it is easy for me to forget. But good food is good for the soul, and that makes your magic stronger."

General health and well-being always provided positive results for one's magic so long as you weren't cursed in some way to prevent it. I stepped farther in, debating asking about what I'd overheard, then deciding against it. "Can I help?"

"I have it—" Caein swore in a language I didn't recognize as the spoon flipped out from the bowl and onto the wooden floor, spattering a sugary glaze. "Yes. If you would like to assist me, I would not object."

I stooped down to pick up the wooden spoon. Seeing a small blue and white check towel, I used it to clean up the floor. "Cinnamon bread?"

"Yes, an old, old recipe from my mother's side. Now…if you could add a pinch of crushed cloves and three pinches of nutmeg and mix it in, I would be most grateful."

It was a little surreal to be helping prepare cinnamon bread, but I enjoyed the hominess of it all. After I washed my hands in the basin, I measured out the cloves and stirred it together. "Where is Ramiel?"

"Trying to break the curses and tend the Chasm, heal the leviathan, all the usual tasks," he said. "The dragons were especially energetic this morning. They were up before the sun. He set them through their paces."

"Does that mean the leviathan will try to break through sooner than expected?" I hadn't removed enough of the cursed knots to give Ramiel much of a reprieve, and I didn't think he could take more than one or two more fights with the omenfang without the curse destroying him despite the ground we had gained.

"No, it means the leviathan has calmed. He'll likely rest, then hunt, and then sleep. It should mean we have more time." A long sigh followed. "Time. The one thing we need, and the one thing we're never certain we'll have." The bread dough squashed at an awkward angle.

"Would you like me to knead it?" I asked.

"If you wish." He sounded rather relieved. I couldn't blame him. If I were in his position, I'd hate it, and I guessed that what he was doing was an act of kindness specifically intended to bring comfort. There were other simpler cuisine you could prep and that would be easier to manage if you had to rely on your aura or telepathic abilities or will to maneuver objects.

I rolled the dough onto the flour and began to work it. It stuck to my palms and fingers, the yeasty scent growing stronger. My mouth watered. It smelled so much like the peace loaves my mother and sister and I made each year with all the other women.

"I'm glad you're helping him," Caein said, his voice vibrating around me. The whisk beat around in the bowl with the eggs, faster and smoother now. "I feared that when I returned from rest again, he would have perished…what happened on the bridge has been a grave fear of mine since the coming of this curse. When the omenfang attacks outside the tower, its power is always far greater."

"You're leaving? Or—I guess resting?" I glanced up at the ceiling. "Why?"

"I'm still adjusting to being a Nolche. It requires that I often…sleep might be the best term for it, but there are mercifully no dreams."

It was strange to watch the implements within the kitchen move themselves. The spoon in the bowl stirred in stuttering strokes, and the whisk moved in halting spins.

"No dreams, huh? That sounds nice. As long as you can get out of it."

"It is restful. The challenge comes in moving between the host structures. I am not the guardian of only this place."

"You're the guardian of the guardian tower?" I smiled at this. The rolling pin clattered toward me, wobbling as if someone had sent it rolling from the wrong end. Picking it up, I dusted it with flour and started to roll out the dough.

"A guardian of the Sentinels. I was a friend to the Sentinels before my transformation. I am a friend to them now though Ramiel is all that remains. I divide my time between the families I loved in my corporeal life."

"What happened to the other Sentinels?" I rolled the dough. There was something comforting about his presence, despite his ghostly nature.

"That is not my story to tell," he responded. "But Ramiel may speak of it when he is ready."

Fair enough. We fell into an easy silence. As I kneaded the dough, I decided then not to mention the conversation I'd overheard last night. Caein was trying to protect Ramiel, just as I was trying to protect Zephyrus. And now we were all trying to protect the Chasm.

As I put the loaf in the oven, it startled me to realize how important that had become to me.

When Ramiel came to the kitchen, my stomach somersaulted again. He didn't remain, but he did smile a little.

I didn't know how, but…somehow we really found a beautiful synergy. Over the next three days, we did little more than work and prepare, but time passed swiftly.

Ramiel did not stop for meals, only pausing long enough to gather food from the kitchen and then returning to his desk or the rune tables. He barely stopped for sleep. And for a few hours out of each day, he stretched out on the couch and let me work at the knots.

I drew out the threads with great care. Each one when severed curled back on me and vanished into the air with a pulsing hum, cutting or biting at me. Though he sometimes winced, he often soothed or stroked my arm to remove that sting. Each touch from him made me grow warmer. Sometimes my hands shook a little.

Foolishness. Loneliness. Whatever it was, I had to be cautious. My fingers worked along his chest.

There was something undeniably intimate about this. Each time my thoughts drifted in that direction, I blushed but turned my head to hide that. If he noticed, he never mentioned it.

Still the energy thrummed stronger between us. Sometimes I just wanted to stretch out beside him, feel his arms twine around me, and rest my head on his shoulder.

I cursed myself for that desire. I cursed him for being so impossibly close.

Now wasn't the time or place.

Even if it would be easy.

So very, very easy.

Heat radiated through his parted tunic and into my hands and side. Part of me hated how much I longed to be close to him and how quickly I fell for him. As I spread my aura out over his chest, I thought I glimpsed the central thread. "It looks like it really is woven straight into your heart." If I could get a solid hold of it, it would undo all the rest. Magical knots were magnificent like that.

"Not surprising," he said, his arm draped over his forehead. He studied me from beneath his arm. "If that's the case, then that means you won't be able to reach it unless I fully engage my magic. But that will trigger the omenfang's arrival for certain. And…" His brow pinched.

I focused in on another of the knots. My magic shuddered as this one resisted. "And what? Don't tell me you're giving up?"

He shook his head. "Do you always have nightmares?"

The abrupt change of topic left me blinking. "Um…yes. I usually do."

"I'll see what I can do about it. True rest is essential for healing, and that is difficult to do when you have nightmares." A contemplative hum rumbled from his lips. "I should have asked sooner."

"Why?" That response confused me. "My nightmares aren't your trouble."

I focused my magic on the next knot, tracing the patterns with the blade. This one seemed more complex, with tighter coils and sharper edges. Six threads instead of four. As I worked to loosen it, I felt resistance—stronger than before.

"They're getting trickier," I murmured, pressing deeper with my magic.

The knot suddenly constricted, then snapped back at me like severed violin strings. The cursed threads lashed out, slicing across my palm and wrist deeper than any previous attempt. I yelped in pain, jerking my hand back. My blade fell to the floor, spinning until it struck the wall.

"Astraia!" He caught my wrist before I could pull away. His fingers were cool against my burning skin as he examined the wound. The cut was deep enough that beads of blood had begun to form.

"It's nothing," I insisted, though my voice betrayed me with a slight tremor.

Ramiel's brow furrowed as he traced his thumb gently across my wrist, his healing magic soothing the sting. His eyes met mine, concern evident in their purple depths.

"These threads are becoming more aggressive," he said softly. "They're fighting back harder each time. Did it try to enter your wrist?"

"I—I think it just coiled," I said, but I wasn't actually sure.

He continued studying it. "I don't like how it lashes at you." His fingers wrapped over mine. "Has it been hurting more, gnat? This is the first time it's drawn blood, but it seems to be getting harder."

I started to shake my head, but he chided me. "You don't have to pretend."

"Severing curses always stings a little," I said quietly. But it wasn't the sting that had absorbed my attention. His thumb pressed against my palm.

The cut sealed shut. He still held my hand, his expression contemplative. "I don't like seeing you hurt."

Witty words escaped me, my heart racing faster. So I just shook my head again. "I don't like seeing you hurt either."

That gentle smile of his spread. I loved how it reached his eyes and how his eyes crinkled. "I appreciate that you have been doing this for me, and I know that it takes great skill and focus," he said. "Let me prepare you a special dinner. Something restorative."

"Something we can scarf down as I restore my magic and sever the cursed threads and you pore over your texts and continue with your experiments?"

That smile pulled higher. His low laugh made my stomach somersault and tighten. "No…I mean a quiet meal at a proper table with good food and good conversation."

"You can spare that much time?" Though I said it in a teasing tone, I was also serious. My progress in removing the cursed knots from around his heart was not going as swiftly as I hoped.

He pressed a kiss over the point where I had been cut. "Yes. Some of the reagents need to rest anyway, and…I want to spend the time in this way. I will see you after sundown in the eighth door down from your room."

"Of—of course." I drew my hand back to my chest. My skin tingled from the memory of his lips and his breath wisping over mine. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Don't be late." He crossed to the door, cast one more look at me, and then left.