“I could’ve simply beheaded him for treason, but I cared more for my image than your health.”
“No, Nicolas,” I cut in sternly, placing my hands atop his. “If there is one thing I’ve learned in this place, it is the value of a reputation. If you’re seen as a tyrant, or your cousin is seen as a martyr, it will bring about further instability. The serpents we see are only the ones on the surface, but who knows what lies in the burrows?”
Prince Nicolas looked at our hands, then back to me. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I’ve done what I must to ensure our mutual safety, and that I only regret doing it poorly,” I explained through gritted teeth. “I will not fall victim to cowards who would use me to advance their position. Not Percy, not anyone. They tried to remove me to weaken you. That makes their enmity ours to share. If we’re to survive, then we’ll face these threats together.”
My chest rose and fell. The prince stared, lips twitching into a surprised, admiring smile before the whole of him softened with unabashed adoration. “You’re a rare woman, Alana.”
My mouth hung open, a faint croak tumbling out.
The prince studied my face in silence, fingers tapping the desk before steepling beneath his chin.
“Percy’s recovery poses a problem,” he said finally. “Should he regain his wits fully, suspicion may yet fall upon you, but with him on the mend, I can’t suggest another poisoning. It would draw too much attention. No, what we need is distance from this incident.” He paused, then added more carefully, “And there is another concern. If we are to face future threats together, you should be able to speak freely when strategy demands it.”
“Naught can be done about it,” I sighed.
Nicolas stood and began idly pacing around the room. “Magic has been outlawed in Gallae for centuries, but Hadria follows a different custom. There are sorcerers within their court, bound by strict codes. Because of this, their state boasts some of the finest healers in the world.”
I parted my lips. “If that’s true, would the whole world not travel to Hadria for healing?”
“The world has turned against magic, and they are right to do so. Even if the Hadrian sorcerers follow those laws, their tolerance remains a tremendous risk. My father elevated them to a high noble rank to bind their loyalty and stave off their lust for power, with any deviation from their code punishable by execution. They produce remarkable healers, but most would sooner let the flesh fall from their bones than seek aid from a witch. Only the truly desperate or foolish make that journey.”
“And which are we?” I asked.
“Neither.” Prince Nicolas grinned. “I have no fear of magic; else I would’ve had you killed. Are you of superstitious mind?”
I thought back to the wild fancies my mother recounted from the villagers, of broken mirrors and black cats, luck and fate, and an irrational fear of all things unknown. I shook my head. “I prefer to be pragmatic.”
“Magic is only a tool. In the wrong hands, it may harm, but so might a blade, and yet I do not fear the sword. So long as those who wield the means of death are my allies, I have no reason for fright. Dark magic cannot kill a Callan. Our blood is blessed against such curses, as was part of my father’s pact.” He returned to the desk, rounding it so that he stood at my side with an extended hand. “They’ll not harm you. Will you go to them and seek their aid?”
I was slow to take his hand, but ultimately allowed the prince to help me up. “You would send me to Hadria to alleviate my curse?”
“I would accompany you,” he corrected. “And yes.”
The prospect of freedom from my curse should have filled me with joy, yet I found myself torn. The curse was well-ingrained in my identity. I didn’t know how to exist without its burden governing every aspect of life...and, if the prince’s feelings wereentirely artificial, would I want to discover what lay beneath the comfortable lie of enchanted devotion?
“What if you no longer care for me, once it’s removed?” I asked, adding with a sigh, “If such a thing is truly possible.”
Prince Nicolas scoffed quietly, caressing my cheek. “I would keep you regardless. Only a fool would forsake someone as loyal and useful as you’ve proven yourself to be. Besides, I have observed enough royal marriages to know that love, while pleasant, is not essential for effective rule.”
Something cold settled in my chest at his choice of words. I knew that he loved me, if only as a by-product of the curse’s affliction, but perhaps the extent Prince Nicolas could come to love anybody only went so far as finding use in them.
“We’ll depart for Hadria within the week,” Prince Nicolas announced. “I’ll make arrangements within the court; they’ll believe us to be on an errand of diplomatic concern.”
I nodded and stood, though my heart hammered away. I had only days to steel myself for the possibility that I might return as nothing more than Alana Chastain of Finn’s Hollow, stripped of both curse and newfound status.
“Alana…”
His voice stopped me on my way to the door. The prince watched with an indecipherable look, his posture rigid and awkward, but there was enough weight to it that I stayed, awaiting his next words from a distance.
“What of you?” he asked slowly, as though the words pained him to speak. “I forced you to be here. Would you want to go home if things were different?”
He danced around the meaning of his words, but I understood.
“I don’t know that I can ever go back,” I answered with a distant smile. “My family has moved on without me. I could go to Finn’s Hollow, but I’ve grown fond of this place. I don’t want to start over again.”
“Will you grow fond of me?” The prince’s voice lowered. “I’ve made a mess of courting you.”
