My breath caught at the sadness in his face.
“But...” I prompted.
“But?” He choked out a laugh. “But I guess I have other talents that could help fill the gap.”
I ran my hands through his hair, savoring the silky tug on my palms. “I think that’s a fair trade,” I murmured, sliding my hands slowly down his face to twine strands of his beard around my fingers.
He leaned into my touch, a deep purr vibrating through him. “I know why you’re really here, what your job actually is. You’re after the prince. I don’t know who sent you, but it’s about time.” He gripped my hands, a hint of a smile emerging beneath the dark beard. “You’re just like my sister, Tamara. She would’ve faced an impossible task like this without a second thought. I love surrounding myself with strong women.”
“Good.” I squeezed his fingers, ignoring the spasm of pain up my wrists. “But?”
He swiveled to face me. “If you get him, I fail, and my sister dies. There won’t be time to save her, but I'll help you. She would hate what I've become...how often I turned a blind eye. She’d want me to do the right thing.”
He swayed. How long had he been awake? Watching me sleep, keeping me safe. “Lie down.” I pushed him gently, and he settled on the thin pillow, leaving his arm outstretched for me to sink in beside him. I snuggled close, his hand caressing my hip, warmth blossoming through my skin. His eyes fluttered closed, chest rising and falling deeply.
“There’s always a way,” I whispered. “When you're friends with the devil.”
The next morning, Clement walked me back to Lilyanna’s room and told me not to leave without him. It was cute that he now thought I’d do whatever he said.
A small wooden table had been erected in the corner of the lounge with two benches tucked on either side. Bacon sizzled in the central pan with herbed potatoes and crusted bread. I seated myself opposite Lilyanna, who, by the looks of it, had made no attempt to tame her appearance over the past few days. At least she was uninjured. And alive.
She studied her food, poking at it half-heartedly with a diamond fork. Did she blame me for not getting her out?
I loaded my plate with as much food as it could hold and stuffed myself, barely pausing to suck in breaths. When my stomach threatened to send it all back out again, I leaned back with my hands folded across my distended abdomen.
“Is this where we eat now?” I pulled a glass of water toward me. Droplets condensed on the outside, the cold a welcome relief for my tender skin. I rolled the glass over my face.
“Until the wedding, I think.” A lank curl of hair drooped over her face, and she made no attempt to brush it away.
I held the cold glass to the tingling gash down my face. “In how many days?”
“Two.”
The hearth crackled behind me. The ceiling lay still, its diamond stars dull against the stone. Don’t listen. I sent the plea into the ether. Nothing answered.
“What’s the prince’s eye color?” I studied her closely, willing her to look at me.
“Brown?” She stilled. The tomato she’d speared with her fork oozed red slime, bleeding into the grease lining her plate. “Green, actually. Well, hazel then.”
“Is that your final answer?”
She glared at me before dropping her gaze, her face melting a fraction. “And what’s Clement’s?”
“Black.” I slid the glass down my cheek, resting it against my swollen lip. “And so is his hair. Right from the top of his beard, cutting down his chin and cascading down his neck. Then his chest is bare.”
She peered up at me again.
“I know, I know. I expected him to be rugged all the way down. But,” I leaned forward, “it starts again just where that ‘v’ of muscle descends?—”
“Stop! You’ll make me blush.” She grinned, a hint of life returning to her cheeks.
“Good.” I rested the glass on the table and pinned her with my stare. “You need to pay attention, you need to really open your eyes and see?—”
She leaped to her feet. Her hands dug into the table, body rigid as she leaned toward me. “Maybe you should be paying more attention to what’s right in front of you rather than Clement’s hairline!”
So, she did blame me. Fine. Screw the spirits. I lumbered to my feet, clutching the table myself, but for support. “I tried to get you out! How can you think that I'd leave without you? Look at me!” I gestured wildly at my broken body.
“I know you didn’t leave me,” she hissed.
