Every time I stopped moving, memories flashed—Quinn’s screaming, the echo of a blow, the unbearable silence after the tether snapped.
“We have to do something,” I insisted.
“In case you haven’t noticed,” Vesper drawled from his spot by the door, “we’re in a dungeon. The bars are too close for even me to slip through.”
I ignored his sarcasm and kept pacing.
Branrir sat on the bench, deflating with a sigh. “What’s your plan?”
“I want to crash the wedding.”
After a beat of silence, Branrir barked a laugh. “You can't be serious.”
“He always is,” Thistle added.
“Saints, he really is,” Vesper said, turning now with a conspiratorial grin.
“I’m not letting her marry that bastard,” I said. “There has to be a way.”
“A way to what?” Branrir challenged. “Break out of a fortified dungeon, sneak into a royal wedding, and whisk the bride away?”
“Yes,” I snapped.
Branrir held up his hands. “Didn’t say I was against it. Just wanted to clarify your lunacy.”
“I can work with lunacy,” Thistle said. She stood, brushing off her hands. “But not tonight. You’re half-dead and barely standing. If we’re going to pull off anything tomorrow, we need to rest.”
“Rest?” I echoed. “How can you expect me to sleep?”
“Because we’ll need you functioning to make a plan,” she said, matter-of-factly. “The wedding’s not until sunset. Breaking out any earlier only hurts our chances of succeeding.”
I halted.
Sunset.
The final line I couldn’t let Edric cross.
Thistle settled back against the wall. “Lie down, Mav, for a little while. She’ll need you at your best tomorrow.”
I nodded, although sleep felt impossible.
Branrir slid his spectacled gaze to me, expression hardening. “There’s something else.”
Vesper’s ears folded flat. “Is this a pep talk, history lesson, or doom and gloom?”
“Mav,” Branrir said, voice quiet. “Quinn is almost out of time.”
“Doom and gloom, then,” Vesper snarked.
Branrir’s words hit like a bucket of ice water.
“I. Am. Aware.” I bit out each syllable.
“I don’t think you are.” His face locked into stern lines. “As much as none of us want her to marry that prick, if she does, Edric said both their curses will end. If we pull her out before the vows…we still haven’t figured out another way to break the spell. We only have two days until she falls asleep for another century. You have to stop pretending?—”
“I’m not pretending!” I shouted. “I’m refusing to accept that the king is her only way out.”
“And which way is that? Because if it’s true love, it’s time to be honest with yourself.”
