“Prince Stormdân, you are expected,” he said, voice carrying along the street. Then lower, “Her Highness and your lady await you in the great hall. Any resistance you meet is not from Her Highness’s forces. Proceed with royal blessings.”
I didn’t dare acknowledge his statement aloud, afraid of what I would do if he spoke again—I was coiled, ready to snap.
He held my gaze for two rapid heartbeats, his eyes conveying a desperate need to prove his sincerity so his men might live. This man was brave, and far from stupid. He looked away before I did.
When his eyes dropped, the beast stopped pushing for aggression, flaring in confusion. It didn’t know what to make of this, and neither did I. No fight. Just another open door. The tension within me was turning to wariness as the cobblestone path that led to her stretched before me.
Was this what Cadoc had hinted at? Was I walking into a trap? Or could I truly be witnessing the princess’s influence at play? I almost feared hoping.
I rode ahead slowly, uncertain, scanning every shadow for movement, senses reaching for any sign of magic. As I trotted on, more people watched from windows but didn’t come out. The longer the silence lasted, the more the rage in my blood dwindled. The monster, always clawing, always hungry, had also quieted.
Because it was…afraid. It had never been afraid. It had never been uncomfortable. But she’d changed everything.
I dismounted at the castle steps, passing the reins to a young servant, who bowed and fled before I could speak. Before me, a third set of doors stood open.
Still no arrows, fire, or swords...
I didn’t sheath my weapon. I simply walked forward as the curse pulled me, willing, deeper into the fortress. Each step felt lighter than the last, buoyed by the promise that she was close.
Flecks of dried blood slid off my armor as I walked down the stone-lined corridor. In a twisted way, Gelida’s blood was returned to her. The great hall rose ahead of me.
I stepped into the chamber. It was smaller than Darreth’s, more austere. The looming space was stark and cold, built of rough-hewn stone and lit only by a few torches set in iron sconces. At the heart of it all was a raised dais where a figure waited on the steel throne.
Princess Anwen.
I hadn’t seen her since we were children, but her pale eyes and brown hair were as unmistakable now as they’d been then. She sat alone, hands folded neatly, expression unreadable, without a guard in sight.
A thread of magic, familiar and warm as a perfect summer evening, lingered here. Soft and welcoming, like lavender. It brushed against the raw edges of my soul and attempted to soothe the thing inside me that never slept—but today it wouldn’t be caged.
I came seeking only one thing, and she wasn’t here. The stone under my feet shook, and the heavy rafters above groaned with my renewed fury. My voice became a growl made thunder by the curse surging through my veins. “Where is she?”
The room shook again, and Anwen flinched. But her gaze held a silent defiance. With her eyes fixed on something behind me, she flicked her raised chin in that direction.
I didn’t take my eyes off the cold princess until the invisible tether linking me to Isca snapped tight. A door creaked, and my heart started racing as the curse took a deep breath, readying itself for battle.
Two guards entered, holding the door for a figure clad in crimson and gold.
For the first time since her loss, the curse stilled, ready to pounce but frozen by the sight. I’d expected it to force an attack. To grab her and run. To do anything but what it did. It breathed her in like it hadn’t thought to live since she’d disappeared. I felt myself doing the same thing.
Isca wasn’t in chains. She wasn’t carried or dragged; she walked in front of the guards, head held high. She was clean, hair in her normal crown, wearing the colors of my house, of fire and sovereignty.
Her eyes locked on mine. The emotion in them, the unshed tears, nearly made me drop to my knees. My chest split open with relief so sudden it staggered me.
Mine.
This was more than my hope; this was my dream made flesh. She was whole. She was more than worth the price I would need to pay for the sins I’d committed to reach this moment.
But the curse didn’t understand mercy or peace. It saw the bruises on her wrists and decided to raze this place to the ground for daring to take her. A primal howl echoed within me, pushing me to act.
“Emrys.” Isca’s voice sliced clean through the rising madness. A single tear trailed down her face. “You’re here. I’m sorry. I-I tried…to…”
My fingers twitched with the beginnings of a spell that would bury this castle under its own weight. I could steal her away. Carry her into the mountains, the woods. Anywhere far from this cold, treacherous stone.
“Emrys, stop!” She must’ve sensed what I was doing.
And then she was moving.
The guards stepped aside as she brushed past them without hesitation and flung herself into my arms.
