More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
Suddenly, she takes hold of the Prince’s hand. I glance over her head in time to see the startled expression spread across his face. His brow puckers. For a moment, I think he’s going to shake off her fingers. But he doesn’t. He tightens his hold, looks up, catches my eye, and winks. My whole face floods with heat. Blood pounds in my ears so that I almost don’t hear him when he says, “One, two, three . . .” At the last second, I realize what he’s doing. Responding to his lead, I adjust my grip, and together we swing Sis right off her feet in front of us. She lets out another bright, bell-like
...more
The Prince utters another curse. “Sometimes, Darling, your courage looks rather too much like lunacy to the rest of us.”
He’s here. Just at my back. His hand clasped warmly in mine. Though deep down I know it’s foolish, I’m suddenly convinced that we will solve whatever problems lie before us.
He glances back at me. “Last chance, Darling. Will you retreat into the temple and let me deal with these louts?” I meet his gaze hard. “I’m not abandoning you.” At this, his mouth breaks in a devastating smile. “That might be the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
The wild fierceness of his expression softens into something incredulous and . . . strangely tender. “How can you be so foolish and so brave all in the same breath?” I open my mouth to respond, but he lifts his hand, brushes my cheek. Trails a knuckle gently down my skin. And all words are quite stolen away.
“You must know why I wished to speak to you.” His lips quirk slightly. “I have any number of suspicions.” To my utmost horror his gaze drops pointedly to my mouth. “And hopes.”
I feel rather than see the small, bitter smile curving his lips. “I always knew I would have to fetch you eventually. I couldn’t help myself.” “What?” He turns, looks down at me. I can’t bear to meet his gaze, but continue staring straight ahead, even as his eyes bore into the side of my face. “The knowledge that you were there in Aurelis—breathing the air of Eledria—was torture. During those five years you spent in Estrilde’s thrall, not a day went by that I did not think of you.”
Yet even in the very depths of loathing, I could never fully hide from the truth. The truth that, from the first moment I set eyes on her pale, terrified face, my soul was set ablaze. Not with hatred. No, this is a greater, far more terrible and destructive flame. A flame that would burn down worlds for her sake.
“Vervain is neither the first nor the last librarian to fall prey to her own shadow-self.”
I shiver, a chill running down my spine. That voice . . . it didn’t sound like mine. Something tickles against my cheek. Like delicate threads, dangling from my eyelids. I reach up to brush them away, but there’s nothing there.
I become aware of the Prince’s stare. I cast him a wary glance. His complexion is pale, his expression almost desperate. “Darling, you can’t be serious.”
“No charge, pretty thing. It looks to me as though you’ve not got long before your own pain will begin in earnest. Then my sisters and I will harvest. Take this as a little pick-me-up. To keep you going until then.”
I rest my head against his shoulder. Darkness and warmth reach out to envelop me. I drift into them, even as the Prince roars, “No, stay with me! Don’t go away. I need you with me. I need you here. I need you. I need you, do you hear me?”
Then, not stopping to think about what I do, not stopping to doubt or to question, I strip off my own damp shirt. Pull her against me. Rest her head against my shoulder, her back against my chest. Wrap my arms around her. Holding her, rocking her, as the fire grows and crackles on the grate. If I could, I would let all the warmth and life in me flow into her. As it is, I give all I can; no magic, no glamours. Just my own body heat and my urgent, defiant will.
“I do.” He casts me a sidelong glance. “These days known only to my father. But one day, I’ll offer that name as a gift to she who will be my wife. If she accepts me, she will speak it back. And I will come to her from anywhere in all the worlds.”
“Clara,” he breathes. My lips, chapped by the cold breeze, part. I let out a short breath. Then with more daring than I knew I possessed I whisper: “Castien.”
I just have time to gasp a breath and grip a handful of white feathers before the Prince settles into place behind me, wraps his arm around me, and pulls me back against his chest. I dare a glance at Ivor. The man looks ready to decapitate someone.
“To really love someone is to be willing to give them up. To know they are free to make their own choices, for better or for worse. To allow them that freedom. To let go . . . even if it means watching them fall.”
Suddenly, I cannot resist. Not one moment more. I lean forward, catch him by the face, and press my lips against his cheek.
Perhaps she does not hate me anymore, though the gods know I’ve given her little reason not to. Perhaps we have even formed an uneasy sort of alliance, found a footing of mutual respect. But if she knew who I really am—if she knew what I’ve done and what I’ve kept from her all this time—her hatred would be unending.
How could I have been so mistaken? How could I have misread everything that took place between us? I really thought he would kiss me. I really thought . . .
I meet and hold his gaze, harder than I’ve managed since that terrible moment when I stared into his eyes, waiting for him to respond to my impulsive kiss. Waiting, waiting . . . only to be rejected. Only to have everything I thought had been building between us for days, weeks—even months—thrown back in my face and made to seem utter foolishness.
But when I gaze into his eyes, so near to mine, so full of fire and that sweet, sweet music . . . I know he could never hurt me. Never.
He looks hungry. Starving. As though he would devour me if given the chance. His hand lets go of mine. He slips it instead underneath my hair, gripping my neck, drawing me toward him. So I wasn’t mistaken after all. Everything I’d thought was happening between us . . . it was real. This is real. This place, this point in time. His mouth opens, like he’s going to kiss me, like he’s going to consume me. I lean into him, as hungry as he, as desperate for that feast we’ve been denying ourselves for far too long. “Clara,” he breathes, his lips so near I can just about taste them. “Clara, my
...more
I nod. “He’s agreed to lift the curse on Oasuroa. For a price.” The Prince waits. But I can’t say it. I open my mouth, but the words won’t come. It doesn’t matter. His eyes widen. His mouth becomes an ugly, terrible leer. “Never,” he snarls, and turns away from me.
He’s resisting. I feel it already. I can see the pain in his face, the tension in his brow. “Don’t do this.” He grinds the words through gritted teeth. “Don’t make me.”
Suddenly, a hand slips around my waist, presses flat against my stomach. I catch a breath. A single tug, and I’m drawn back against a warm, broad chest. Breath tickles my ear, and another hand touches my jaw, gently trails down my throat. “I will come to you.” His mouth rests just against my ear, his voice low and deep: “Should you need me. For any reason. Not for Obligation, only for need.” I’m shaking, shuddering. But he holds me closer, as though he can hold me together, keep me from bursting into a million pieces. “Call my name,” he whispers. “I will come to you. From anywhere in all the
...more
The dragon chuckles. “How like a fae you sound! We all know a truth omitted will sting just the same as any falsehood.” She lowers her head, bringing her face down to the level of mine. “I see the truth of your rotten little soul. She’ll never be yours, elfkin. You’ve offered your heart, but even if she accepts it, she’ll throw it back in your miserable face the moment she learns of your falsehood.”
Ivor has given me no command. Might I possibly pass through the Between Gate, find the Prince? Might I release him from this foolish Obligation and set him free? Apologize for my foolishness. Tell him how I hate myself for what I’ve done to him. But I never come anywhere near the gate. Long before it’s in sight, some invisible tether stops me so hard, I nearly choke. My hands fly to my throat even as I fall to my knees. I bow over, my bare back prickling at the cold wind like a shivering finger trailing up my spine. And so I remain for some while. Weeping. Alone. Cursing myself for the fool I
...more
What will it be like, standing in her presence again, knowing I have given her my name, knowing she has not—
My ears are filled with a different sound. A voice, soft and low. Trembling with fear. Both far off and intimately near. Whispering into my heart, my soul. One voice. Hers.
“Say my name.” He stares into my eyes, hypnotic and dreadful. “Say it how I want to hear it.” I swallow. My lips part. A breath of sound eases from my throat. A whisper, a sigh. Ivor frowns. His grip on my chin tightens. “What did you say?”
An ear-splitting crash. A rain of shattered glass. A cyclone of white feathers.
He rises. His head is low, his shoulders hunched. He speaks in a voice of absolute darkness: “Take your filthy hands off her.”
The Prince’s teeth flash. “You cannot have her.” “And why not? You’ve never been able to stop me from having anything I wanted. Your crown, your kingdom, your father’s regard. And now”—his smile is beautiful as the cruel winter dawn—“your wife.”
Before I can think or react, he whips a knife from his belt, cuts his own hand, staining the blade with purple blood. Then he flings the knife. It whistles past my skirts, sticks to the ground just at Ivor’s feet. Ivor’s gaze fixes on that quivering hilt for the space of five breaths. Then slowly he looks up. His golden complexion turns pale. The Prince smiles. It’s such a charming, deadly expression. “By the blood in my veins,” he says softly. “In the name of my father and his father and his father before him, I, Castien Lodírith, Prince of Vespre, demand the Rite of the Thorn.”
I let the pages drop back to the desk, staring down at them unseeing. “You shouldn’t have done it.” I shake my head, determined to force back prickling tears. “You shouldn’t have given me that name. It . . . it wasn’t meant for me.” “I am perfectly aware of the circumstances in which such names are and are not meant to be given.”
“You spoke my true name. Only one woman in all the worlds may do that. For her I would give my life. I would give a thousand lives—to see you safe and whole and happy.” One day, I’ll offer that name as a gift to she who will be my wife. If she accepts me, she will speak it back.
“I love you,” he rasps. For a moment he looks shocked, as though he cannot believe what he just said. “I love you,” he repeats, both declaration and confession. “Clara! Clara, my darling, I love you. To the very depths of my worthless heart and being. The battle is lost—the war is done. You’ve won. You’ve conquered and destroyed me. Love me or loathe me, it makes no difference now.” He strokes my cheek, my neck, smooths hair from my forehead. Gazes at me as though beholding the very source of all life. “Though you cut me a thousand times, still would I come back to you. I’d crawl on my knees,
...more
“Darling,” he murmurs, his breath hot and panting. “Darling Clara, I beg of you . . .” “What?” “Tell me you love me.”
“I love you, Lianthorne.”
“You may have me, Castien. However you want me.”
“Whatever may come. Today, tomorrow, and eternity, you are mine. My own. My wife.” His wife. Yes. Of course. It was true the moment he whispered his secret name in my ear.
“Husband,” I breathe. He smiles, his very soul suffused in joy.
“Perhaps,” I say, my voice muffled against his shoulder, “it would have been easier if we’d, I don’t know . . . walked the ten paces to the bedroom?” The Prince—Castien—snorts. “Taking you across my desk has been a long-time fantasy. Taking you across my mother’s bed? No. Definitely not.”
“My Castien,” I amend and pull him down into a kiss. No sooner do our lips meet, however, than the awful constriction of Obligation tightens around my throat. I gasp and yank back, staggering at the pain. The Prince’s eyes flash with understanding. “I’ll kill him,” he growls. “Damn the rite, I’ll kill him here and now!”
“Please, Castien. Win your victory. Win your crown. Win my freedom. But do not die for it. Do not die for me. I could not bear it if you . . . if you . . .”
“Three . . . two . . .” Lord Kiirion says. Just as he cries, “One!” Castien turns. Looks straight up at me. His face breaks in a triumphant smile.
I close my eyes and whisper: “Lianthorne.” Immediately, there’s a ripple of movement through the crowd. The next moment, my heart stops as I hear a familiar voice shouting: “Get out! Get out of my room, you gods-blighted, damnable oglers! If I spy even one of your objectionable faces within twenty feet of me in the next five seconds, I’ll start setting Noswraiths loose, so help me! Now, will you kindly make way for my wife?”
“It would seem when Lord Ivor met his sorry end, the curse he’d placed upon me broke as well.”
