The king rolls back to his haunches, his expression still haunted. “You tell me.”
“Memories,” I whisper. “Nightmares.”
He stares at me, but something like compassion bleeds through that glacial jet gaze. I hate the fact that he caught me in such a vulnerable position. “Painful ones?” he asks softly, surprising me.
I swallow and wrap my arms around my body, feeling the hideous sensation of being consumed from the inside out. “Horrifying. I... I think I might have been... a monster.”
I feel his eyes on me, but he doesn’t say anything or probe for more explanation. “We’re all capable of monstrous things,” he says eventually, and so gently that it makes tears spring to my eyes for no reason at all. “Some more than most. But that doesn’t make us monsters.”
“I am,” I blurt out, and lift my arms, staring blindly at the cuffs. “There’s so much blood on these, and I don’t know how they even got there. I don’t know what Ididbecause I can’t fucking remember!” The last words turn into a choked sob.
The king stands and walks a few steps. “Here,” he says, returning with a filled goblet. “Drink this.”
I do as he says, grateful for the coolness of the water calming my sore throat, and then give him the empty cup with a quavering hand. Those midnight eyes of his miss nothing. My skin itches with discomfort at feeling so exposed. “Why are you being so kind all of a sudden?” I blurt out.
“I can’t be kind?”
I frown, abandoned walls rising with alacrity. “Let’s be honest, Your Majesty. I’m your hostage. You probably didn’t want me dying on your hands, causing a diplomatic incident that might start a war or something disastrous.”
He stares at me in silence, then swipes a hand over his nape. “I don’t want you to—” He cuts off abruptly and sighs. “You’re not a hostage.”
“So you’ll let me leave?”
“It’s not that simple,” he says. “You’re not safe going anywhere until you regain your memories.” He points at the cuffs on my wrists. “And until we can determine what those are and what their purpose is.”
“They won’t come off,” I remind him.
He nods. “I am aware. We tried everything to to remove them when you first arrived. The magic is... unlike anything I’ve seen, and I’ve seen more than you can possibly imagine.”
The king extends a hand down to me. Not wanting to be churlish, I take it, blushing when my knees buckle as I rise and I slump against his big frame. He catches me easily, and we both gasp when that strange current zings between us.
For a heartbeat, every nerve in my body feels charged and alive as if I’ve been struck by an elemental force, and then the flow deadens and cuts off as quickly as it had come. The red glow of the runes on the bracers indicates that something had clearly happened. Whatwasthat?
“The cuffs did something,” I whisper, pushing out of his embrace and staring at the runes that had lit up. “When we touched.”
His expression is unreadable. “I saw.”
The runes are arcane; there’s no doubt of it in my mind. While I can’t read them, I suspect the symbols etched on the bracers are powerful, inscribed by a very strong runecaster. “Do you know what any of these runes mean?” I ask the king.
He nods gravely. “Obstruction and confinement. Runes to weaken and to ensnare, runes of submission and compliance, runes of obligation, consequence, and punishment. Runes of control. Pain. Forced dormancy.” He snaps the words out like they’re poison in his mouth, and with each revelation, I flinch.
“Forceddormancy?” I whisper.
“To render you unconscious,” he says.
Someone has put these on me to bind me, tocontrolme to excessive extremes. Butwhy? I’m nobody... a bladesmith from the desert. Fear snaps through my veins and I suppress a shudder. Nothing good can come from manacles like these.
“Show me your hands,” he says, and I comply before I can think too hard about it.
His fingertip traces a faint five-pointed shape on each of my palms, causing me to nearly jolt out of my skin. That same deadening prickle sweeps through me, but the potency of his touch is much more carnal, as though he’s stroking up the center of me. My thighs clench, face heating and breath lodging in my throat. This feels strangely intimate, his index finger softly kissing the lines along my palm. Sensation sings through my body. I gasp and snatch my hands away, miniature shock waves of pleasure detonating inside. Stars above... did I just... ?
He frowns at me. “What’s the matter?”
Gods, kill me now.
“Nothing,” I mumble.
Silence stretches between us as my ears grow hot with discomfort. I shuffle uneasily when his stare doesn’t leave mine, his face unnaturally still like a stone gargoyle. He doesn’t give away a thing, but I can tell he’s thinking.
