A cold shiver runs down my spine. You’d try to get as far away as possible. You’d try to get off the grounds.
Swearing profusely, I whip around and sprint out of the ballroom, down the Long Gallery, and burst out of the SouthDoor and into the gardens. There, across the lawn, I see Pink, running as if his life depends on it.
I suck in a deep breath and give chase. I can’t let him reach the road while all frantic, flustered and vulnerable. It wouldn’t be safe. He doesn’t even have a coat, let alone his wallet or phone. He’d be alone in the world with nothing and no one. A very pretty young man with no defences.
As I dash across the sodden grass, a pulsing wave of magic overtakes me. It reaches the boundary wards and they thrum in answer. Oh by the dark goddess! My mother has inverted the wards!
Sheer and utter terror floods my veins and gives my legs a new lease of life. I’m so glad I run every day. My muscles pump, my lungs heave, and miraculously I catch up to Pink, mere yards from the perimeter. With no time to lose, I rugby tackle him to the ground.
He cries out, and fights me ferociously. Wriggling, squirming, kicking and punching. Desperately trying to get away. I flip him over, sit on him, and pin his arms above his head.
“Mother has inverted the wards, they will kill you if you cross them!” I yell.
Pink stops his fight. His lungs are heaving. His hair is tousled. His face is deathly pale, despite his exertion. And his eyes, oh goddess, his eyes. Wide and terrified. Glassy. Fixed on somewhere that is not the here and now.
My stomach heaves. I’m holding him down. Pinning him to the ground. Looming over him. My groin pressed against his.
I’ve thrown him not only to the floor, but right back to the harem. He is reliving it right now. Experiencing hell as he lies beneath me. But I cannot let him go. He is still panicking, he could very well fling himself at the deadly wards.
“Pink!” I call out desperately. “Pink! Darling, it’s me! It’s me! It’s Monty.”
He blinks and starts to hyperventilate.
“It’s me,” I plead. “Pink, please look at me. Please see me.”
He blinks again and his eyes slowly clear. He seems to focus on me. And he still looks scared. Pink is scared of me.
My heart is breaking. Shattering. Splintering into a thousand shards. “I’m so sorry. I had to stop you. The wards would have killed you.”
I see the comprehension in his beautiful brown eyes. My clever boy. Even in the throes of a deep panic, he can quickly grasp the situation.
“I would never hurt you,” I say, but it comes out as a hoarse croak.
Pink is staring at me, calmer now, but still full of fear, doubt, and mistrust.
I swallow dryly. “My parents are Revivalists, but I never have been. It’s not a cult you can walk away from. They don’t let you go. Mother…was being Mother by telling you.”
I don’t even know if I am making any sense. Words are just pouring out of me. I can only hope that some of them achieve what I am desperate for them to do.
“I’m so sorry,” I say again, as if meaningless apologies are worth uttering. I suck in a shuddering breath and try again. “I never wanted to put you in any danger. That is why I never told you.”
Pink stares up at me. Silently. I can’t tell what he is thinking. His face is a mask of fear and uncertainty.
“I wanted to keep you safe,” I beg. “I wanted to keep Laurie safe.”
But I’ve failed at that too. I couldn’t outwit my mother and now she has hidden him away and I probably won’t find him in time. And she has tangled Pink up into our world to spite me and he hates me now and I’ve failed at everything.
A broken, pained sob fills the air. It takes me a moment to realize it is mine. Tears are falling from my eyes. I hang my head so they don’t fall on Pink.
“Please Pink,” I try one last time. “I’m not a Revivalist. You know me. You know my heart. Youaremy heart.”
Pink sniffs. A soft noise of pain, angst and conflicted confusion. I lift my head up to meet his eyes. His expression is infinitely softer now.
A tiny flicker of hope ignites within me. My desperate dread recedes enough for me to notice our surroundings. It’s cold and raining and Pink is covered in mud. I need to get him inside before he catches a cold.
“Swear to me Monty,” he says. “Swear to me on everything you hold dear.”
My lungs stutter and my tears continue to fall. “You are the only thing I hold dear.”
