“Master?” Fran’s voice echoed in the open area. She gasped and raced up the stairs. “Mistress? What? What happened?”
My eyes rolled toward the sound of her voice. My mouth opened, but before I could get a word out, that leash on my middle yanked on me, pulling my body against the vines that held me. I screamed, feeling like I was being ripped in half.
“Oh, dear.” Fran breathed out. “We’ve run out of time.”
“What?” Blackthorn turned his head to her. “What are you talking about?”
“Let her go,” Fran snapped, pulling at the vines around me.
“What? She’s hurting herself.”
“And you’re hurting her by keeping her here.” Fran touched the side of my face, sadness on her face. “I’m sorry I couldn’t find a way to help you. For not being able to break—” she choked on the word, spitting out instead, “your chicken.”
I huffed a laugh at the spell’s improv, then winced as it tugged me once more.
Blackthorn loomed at her side, his eyes bouncing between us. “I demand you tell me what’s going on, right now.”
“If I could...” Fran swallowed, shaking her head. “I cannot. You must let her go.”
Blackthorn peered between us once more before his vines slowly unwrapped around me, placing my feet on the floor. My knees buckled, and Blackthorn’s hands caught me before I fell. I shook in his embrace, my head lifting until I could meet his gaze.
“I’m...” I licked my lips, sucking in a breath, “I’m sorry.”
His brows furrowed, hand cupping my face. “I wish you would talk to me.”
My mouth opened once more to try to explain — to tell him, something, anything — but the spell didn’t let me. It yanked me from his arms, my hands finding the banister before it could throw me down the stairs again, each footstep more painful than the last until I reached the bottom of the stairs.
Fran and Blackthorn were close on my heels.
“There’s nowhere else to go,” he reminded me, watching me carefully.
I breathed heavily, staring at the large double doors keeping me inside the castle. If I was lucky, the spell would know I couldn’t go any further, even if I wanted to. And yet I could still feel the tug in my middle, demanding me to go forward.
“Rumple,” I gasped, fighting the pull. “I belong to Rumple.”
Blackthorn growled. “Not anymore, you don’t. Why won’t you believe me? I won’t let him hurt you.”
“I know.” I gave him a weak smile, before I doubled over in pain.
Fran reached for me. I waved her off. She spun on Blackthorn. “Open the doors.”
“I can’t.” He stared at her, a befuddled expression on his face. “You know why.”
As if listening to him, the spell threw me forward, my hands slapping on the wood of the doors. I winced, my body growing weaker against the pull of the magic. My hand found the handle of the door, tugging on it though I knew it wouldn’t open.
“What is she doing?” Blackthorn’s voice called behind me.
I squeezed my eyes shut, knowing that the magic was not going to let me go. Not this time.
“You have to open the door, master. You must,” Fran implored, panic filling her voice.
“I won’t. It’s not safe out there,” Blackthorn barked.
“Please,” I whimpered, pulling at the door handle again. Even though the door wasn’t budging, the spell was determined to get me through it one way or another.
My body slammed against the door. Pain radiated through my shoulder, the door far stronger than anything my body could produce. Still, the spell yanked at me. It threw me against the door again and again until my arm was numb and my face bloody.
“Stop. Please, stop.” Blackthorn’s hands grabbed my shoulders, holding me to him. “I’ll open the door. Just stop hurting yourself.” He held me tightly against his chest, hand stroking my hair. “Fran, get her some shoes. She can’t very well leave bare foot.”
