“Yes. We did.”
“How nice for you both.”
“We had a deal.”
“And so we did! You wish for place and power, a position to rival your brothers, and I can give you just that. The moment you cross the bridge out of this winter town, you will forget all about this and find yourself on a road to a whole new adventure. I’ve laid it out splendidly! I found you a nice kingdom, plenty of good crops, a fair number of hardworking dragons, a river with not too many Lorelei inside so you don’t have to keep an eye on drownings—”
“When we started on this quest, you said that…if we wanted…we could go back to Love’s Keep. Er,Icould go back. With Imelda.”
“What an intriguing little turn!” the witch said happily. “Are you quite sure?”
“Yes.”
The witch paused, and Ambrose didn’t like that knowing glint in her eyes. “Have you asked her?”
Chapter 17
IMELDA
Imelda startled out of her dream at the sound of the closing door. Her eyes snapped open, a blush spreading across her face when she thought of last night. She’d never imagined she’d find such freedom in the small enclosure of Ambrose’s arms. It was like escaping into a hidden kingdom, where the only time that mattered was the interval between kisses and the only dictate that held sway was whatever ratcheted the thrum of blood in her veins. It left her joyously untethered and feeling inexplicablybrave.
Look at what she’d done for herself and no one else.
Look at how she’d reached forward instead of stepping back.
Look at how she’d emerged unscathed.
She wanted to prove to herself that she could do it again. Imelda grinned, reaching beside her in bed, only for her hands to be met with cold sheets.
“Ambrose?”
He dropped a box on me, mourned the horse cloak from the closet.
“A box?”
I don’t like boxes.
“Where’d he go?”
Apparently, wherever it was did not require the presence of a horse. All he said was to watch the box because it was for you.
***
Imelda couldn’t decide if she wished she’d never opened the box. Or if she was counting her blessings that she had. All she could do was stare at what lay within. Strange, she thought, that no matter how far away she got from home, a pair of shoes always put her in her place. It didn’t even matter if they were enchanted to root her to the spot or yank her forward. They always had the same effect:
To remind her of control.
Ambrose’s present was the loveliest pair of shackles she’d ever seen. Delicate glasswork slippers, with crystal roses and green ribbon vines that could be wrapped around one’s ankle. A pair of translucent moth wings opened and closed at the heels, and the sound was like the chiming of chandelier pieces. Her aunt’s words thudded in her skull.
“Trust me, child, he will try to control you, in the end. I know what you want, and the only way to get it is through power. Soon enough, you’ll see. He’ll just try to keep you down, and then what will you do? Better to look out for yourself, to loveonlyyourself.”
Tears stung at her eyes, and she knuckled them away. She was glad she’d seen this now, before she’d done something foolish. She’d been on the verge of asking that the witch give her the freedom not to go off on her own, butjoinhim. To choose to give him her heart. To start over.
Footsteps pounded the stairs. She shoved the box into the closet, shutting the door despite the cloak’s muffled protest. Imelda forced herself to stand, to pull herself together, even as something broke within her.
The door opened, and Ambrose crossed the threshold.
Chapter 18
