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“How do you think of those incredible stories?” people would ask. As though any writer ever actually knew the answer to such a question!
The troll grunts and shrugs. “There be troll saying which go: Kaurga-hor, gruaka-hor. It be in small-bite speak: More fear, more brave.”
Between each stab, I see . . . glimpses . . . Kneeling at the feet of a shining figure. A sword upraised. Blood dripping from its edge. And beside me . . . Lying broken and twisted on the paving stones . . . Something dark stirs inside my head, behind my screams, behind my pain. Something dark and violent. Something alive.
“You know, Mistress, the Prince rarely dines with his librarians.” I meet her gaze in the glass again and narrow my eyes. “What exactly are you implying, Lir?” “Oh, nothing!” She trips away, pretending to tidy up the already spotless chamber.
Vervain chuckles. “Ah, but that is the real tragedy of existence, is it not? We all of us think we have some sort of hold on our own hearts. We all of us think we have some sort of control over how and when and whom we love. But ultimately, we’re prey to forces beyond our control. Each and every one of us.”
Lir stops. Turns back. Once again I can see the girl’s face, now resting against her maid’s shoulder instead of mine. I feel the coldness, the bare spot against my chest where she had been but a moment before. I ache to reclaim her, to restore her to her proper place.
Gently, slowly, he slides hair from my face and tucks it behind my ear. “Darling,” he says, very softly, “come back to dinner.” I shake my head. “It would please me if you returned. Does that mean nothing to you?”
He reaches for my hand. His fingers close around mine, and when I try to withdraw and back away, he grips a little tighter. “I’ve come to rescue you, Clara.” He inclines his head toward me, long locks of hair falling over his shoulder. “I’ve come to purchase your Obligation.”
“Estrilde won’t like it.” Ivor chuckles. “But there’s nothing she can do about it. You’ll be under my protection. And soon I will be King of Aurelis.” He smiles then, a smile that sets my blood pulsing all the way to my core. “Perhaps then I will be free to follow in the tradition of the previous king . . . if you understand my meaning.”
This last bit is accompanied by a chuckle that brings vividly to mind my last pixie hunt, when Ivor arrived unexpectedly to lend his aid.
No that was the Prince!
His face shadowed, the Prince’s eyes glint bright, and his teeth flash in a snarl. “I want . . .” His voice is thick, hoarse. “I want you.”
Ilusine tosses up her hands. “It was Lodírhal’s choice to take a human for his bride. He cannot fault you for that.” “I don’t know if a Fatebond counts as a choice, per se. Seems to me he didn’t have much choice in the matter.”
Ilusine rises and comes around the table, pauses beside me, and places a hand on my shoulder. “Think about what I’ve said, mortal maid.” Her voice is neither cold nor cruel. Instead it is deeply, shockingly earnest. “We must save him from himself.”
Only it isn’t her laugh. And when she turns, gazes up at me, it isn’t Ilusine I see. It’s her. Clara. Clara, who I drag into my arms.
Not until much later, when I’m curled up in bed with my head deep in my pillow and my eyes firmly closed, does the irony occur to me: I feel safer at the prospect of staying in Doomed City than of returning to Aurelis with Ivor. Strange.
The wards are lifted? I shake my head, uncertain what to make of this. The Prince has been very clear that I am not to have the troll children in my room. Is there a chance he lifted the wards on purpose?
“No,” his mother replies. “It was the Eyeless Woman.” They both go quiet. There’s a sudden tension in the air that wasn’t there before.
It’s in that moment that I realize the truth I’ve been avoiding for too long. It doesn’t matter what happens to me. Even if I survive my Obligation, even if I return home in ten years’ time, it won’t make a difference. I’ll never be able to marry Danny Gale. There are too many secrets between us.
Lir smiles slyly. “All the dresses in your wardrobe come from the Prince, of course.”
The Prince nods slowly. “I doubt very much the priestesses of the Deeper Dark will agree to see you. But if you have a plan in the works, I’m willing for you to try. After all, I’ve already lowered the wards and let the children through. We’re rather committed to the cause now, like it or not.”
He takes a step nearer. “Darling,” he says, his voice suddenly softer than before. There’s something in his gaze I don’t understand, something I’m not sure I want to understand. “Darling, I have not stopped—”
I can never be whole again. Not until I make her mine.
“Am I obligated to dance?” The line of his jaw hardens. “When have I obligated you to do anything?” Never. I realize it with the force of a thunderclap. Not once since the moment he purchased my Obligation has he made use of it.
“Go where you will,” he says. “Do as you wish. All that I ask of you, now or ever, is that you be whole. Courageously whole.”
I draw a long breath. Sitting back on my heels, I start to rise. His hand shoots out. Catches hold of mine. Startled, I look into his face, find his eyes open and staring up at me again. He draws my hand to his mouth and kisses it.
“No.” The Prince’s voice cuts me off sharply. His jaw works, the muscles of his throat tensing. “No, Darling, listen to me: I am Obliged to you.”
