“What do you take me for, Roarke? A complete dumbass? I may have only been in this realm for thirty years, but I am well aware of how things work.” Crux moves around the small space, lighting candles with his magic.
Kneeling, I slap Abbot’s cheek. “Wake. Now.”
He groans and opens his eyes. “I hate magic.”
“Well, I detest humans, and your host is a warlock, so you might want to watch your words.”
Abbot focuses on Crux, a healthy amount of fear in his eyes. The warlock offers him an evil smile and points to the corner. “Chamber pot there. Water in a jug on that back table, and cured lamb meat in the cabinet. Make any noise at all, try to escape, and I will truss you up like a Christmas goose.”
“I won’t,” Abbot says as he scoots back on the blankets.
“Keep him here until I return,” I say. “If for any reason, I am not back in seven days…” I stop on the stairs with a shake of my head. “Well, then I am dead, and you may do with him what you will.”
Crux grabs my arm. “If you don’t return, he’ll regret the day he was born.”
As I shake him off and continue up the stairs, Abbot murmurs, “I already do.”
Chapter Six
Aurelia
Awareness returns slowly. In bits and pieces. First, scents. Straw and damp stone. Then, utter and complete silence. I remember the silence.
Fear winds its way through my body as I open my eyes to total darkness. But I also feel the cloth tied tightly around my head.
He never removed the blindfold.
The fear turns to panic, and I suck in sharp breaths as I sit up.
I can move my arms. He untied me.
Lifting my hands to my face, I pull off the rough fabric, then squeeze my eyes closed as the harsh morning light blinds me.
Light. There’s a window. A window means there’s a chance I can escape. Until I remember how many flights of stairs we climbed. And how weak I was when the Prince released me from my bonds. I don’t even know if I can walk, let alone find a way down from any sort of height.
Bringing my hand up to shield my eyes, I risk opening them to slits. The pain is less now, and the room starts to come into focus.
A spinning wheel rests in the very center, and beyond that…bales of straw. My head pounds, and when I try to stand, the room pitches and I crumple to the floor with a whimper.
And then the Prince is at my side. Was he watching me the whole time?
“You are still feeling the after-effects of my father’s compulsion,” he says softly. His hands are gentle, gathering me close, pressing a cup to my lips. “Drink, Lia. This will help.”
My name is not Lia.
Despite his use of a name I hate, I comply immediately. The cool, sweet liquid tastes like heaven, and after a few sips, I feel strong enough to hold the cup on my own, but the Prince bats my hands away.
“No. You will let me help you.”
My arms fall, my hands landing in my lap, and I give in, though I know I should not.
“Good girl. Finish it now, Lia. You will feel much better soon. I have your morning meal as well.”
Food. I would give anything for food. My stomach growls, and the Prince chuckles. “I am so very sorry you had to go hungry for so long. The cooks were all asleep when we arrived last night. But you will never want for anything again. Not as long as you are in my care.”
My eyes flutter closed as I rest my head on his shoulder. He shifts me slightly, and the most delicious smells waft over me.
“Keep your eyes closed, my sweet,” he says, and I obey without a second thought. I’m warm, held, and about to eat. What more could I want? Something touches my lips, and I open for him, moaning as what I think is salted pork hits my tongue. Next, a bite of fluffy, honeyed cake, dredged in syrup, then, another sip of nectar.
