Taking a deep breath, I sank beneath the surface. Hot water hugged every inch of my body, and my hair wafted around my head, as light as air, drifting like seaweed. It would have made the perfect photograph; a pastel rainbow wafting in a tub of pink crystal.
It was heaven. No bath I’d ever had could compare. Even my pulse, beating steadily under my skin, had slowed. Dramatically, actually. I scowled, counting. The faint throbs came dangerously slowly. I surged upward, setting water sloshing against the crystal and spilling onto the tiles with a slap. My fingers went straight to my wrist. The last thing I needed now was to finally succumb to the death I’d narrowly avoided, not when I was hatching a plan of escape.
A few seconds of counting confirmed that my pulse was normal, if slightly elevated. Certainly not the sluggish funeral beat of impending oblivion I thought I’d felt…
As the disturbed water stilled, the lazy thrum returned, a faint rhythm humming over my submerged skin. Not my pulse at all. My eyes grew wide, and I held my breath, my attention narrowing to the sensation. If not me, what was it? Could it be… magic?
Only this morning, I would have rolled my eyes at the notion, but with my miraculously healed skin glaring up at me, with the memory of Sage’s portal, and fairies, and creepy, wispy shadow men fresh in my mind, I wasn’t nearly as dismissive as I should have been. Was it some sort of potion mixed into the water, making it hum, or even the magic of the crystal tub? I couldn’t pretend I’d paid much attention to the crystal craze that had swept my world, seeing vending machines full of pretty rocks spring up in the unlikeliest of places. Was it normal for crystals to have their own pulse? If I hadn’t been frozen in wary disbelief, I might have laughed at myself for thinking such nonsense, but…
Magic was real. Witches were real. Curses were real. Was it that far-fetched to believe that crystals had powers?
Whatever it was, the minutes ticked by, and the odd sensation did nothing to harm me. In fact, the tension in my muscles dissolved into the water. Who cared about magic and crystals when heat seeped into my bones, easing the knots and aches away?
Unable to resist the lure of a full body soak, I sank back, resting my head against the smooth innards of the crystal. Water lapped at my jaw. God, I needed this. I drifted for a while, my relaxation so complete that barely a thought crossed my mind, but eventually, the bottles Pansy had left beckoned, each one filled with thick, pearly liquids. More of Sage’s recipes? The bottles gave little away, though I found one with the consistency of shampoo, and rubbed it into my hair, breathing deep the luxurious floral scent.
At last, clean and obscenely relaxed, I left the magic tub, dried myself and wrapped my hair, before donning a silk robe trimmed with lace and heading back to the main room. It seemed a shame to put my dirty clothes back on when I smelt like an expensive bouquet.
To my surprise, I found a dinner tray and a neat little pile of clothes laid on my pristinely made bed. Had Pansy returned while I floated in a bath fit for a queen?
My stomach grumbled loudly.
“I know, I know,” I muttered, massaging the deep ache in my belly. “Give me a minute.”
The clothes laid on the bed were not my own, but I lifted the soft fabric, and the folds tumbled away to reveal a nightdress of palest lilac. Where had it come from? It certainly smelled new. I glanced at my grimy shorts, then stripped off my robe and donned the dress. It fit perfectly, hugging my curves as though it had been made for me alone, the skirt skimming my hips and falling elegantly to my calves.
I turned my attention to my dinner. A cloche covered plate, cutlery and steaming pot of tea awaited me on a tray, along with a dainty cup and saucer. I thought sadly of my enormous mugs back home. Nothing was right in this world. Still, tea was tea, and I was in dire need of it after the day I’d had. I lifted the cloche, freeing a plume of fragrant steam. My heart sank at the sight awaiting me.
Steak.
A beautifully cooked one, to be fair, but steak nonetheless. I’d been a vegetarian since the age of seven, roughly around the time I’d made the connection between the chicken on my plate and my feathery little friends at the farm Mum took me to visit. Maybe I should have mentioned something to the witches, but it had slipped my mind amongst all the saving the world stuff.
Thank God for side dishes. A hearty stack of new potatoes and a mound of green beans and roasted tomatoes would ease the ache in my belly. When had I last eaten a real meal? Had it been the barbeque at the campsite, the night before we visited the caves? Sage’s jam and bread didn’t count, and those blackberries definitely didn’t.
I ate my dinner right there on the end of my bed, wolfing it down without pausing to taste it. By the time my plate was clear of vegetables, my stomach was warm and heavy, as were my eyelids. I transferred my tray to the coffee table in the sitting area of my room and began the seemingly endless task of blowing out the candles. No doubt the witches could have extinguished them with a snap of their fingers. When only the one on my nightstand remained, I crawled into bed. The cool, crisp sheets against my freshly bathed skin dragged a soft sigh from me as I nestled into the pillows. With one last puff of breath, I was plunged into darkness.
The nostalgic scent of candle smoke drifted up my nose, reminding me of birthday cake and happier, easier times. My birthday was still two months away. I had plenty of time. I’d find a way to escape Neath and get home with weeks to spare. Maybe I’d have a party. Twenty-five wasn’t an important milestone, but I wasn’t going to miss a single opportunity to spend time with the people I loved. I would take nothing for granted.
My eyes drifted closed, the knots in my muscles easing as I envisioned the celebration. I’d have an enormous cake. Maybe even party hats, for old times’ sake. Metallic cones topped with coiling ribbons and pom poms. I’d wear a crown…
My crown was much heavier than I expected. It made my neck ache with the strain of holding my head aloft. The weight lifted, easing from my scalp, and I breathed a sigh of relief, rolling my head from side to side. A heavy clink sounded nearby, but before I had time to look for my expensive headwear, a set of large hands closed around my trapezius muscles, kneading and rolling the tension away with body melting pressure.
I moaned into the mattress. Had I been lying down the whole time? Naked?
Those clever hands swept down my slick spine in heavy, lazy strokes, unhindered by any hint of fabric. Whose hands were they anyway? I didn’t care, actually, as long as they kept working their magic. When they reached my waist, they veered off course, dragging over the tickly spots below my ribs. I squirmed, flinching away. I hated being tickled.
Teeth clamped between my shoulder and my neck. Sharp teeth, threatening pain, like cat claws primed to pierce flesh. With a gasp, I fell still. Something loomed over me, hovering over my back. What? Who? Warm breath fanned over my skin, pinned between the clamp of vicious jaws, but then the pinch disappeared, replaced by a hot, wet tongue, lapping away any hint of pain. The contrast of sensations had my eyes rolling back in my skull, and I stopped caring about anything at all.
A hand slid around my throat, large enough to cover my entire neck as it arched my head back with gentle force. The teeth returned, nibbling at the lobe of my ear. My skin burst to life in an explosion of tingles that robbed me of my breath. Every inch of my body thrummed in response to those teeth, to every nip, to the tiny licks and kisses that interspersed them. In my peripheral vision I glimpsed skin as pale as moonlight and hair black as the night, topped with a silver circlet. I knew him after all. I’d seen him smiling down at me with his lop-sided grin. I was supposed to be his. Why had I ever resisted the idea?
The hand around my neck tightened slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to claim.
I didn’t need to be claimed. I wasn’t going anywhere.
9There Goes My Escape Plan
An enormous crash shattered my devilish visions of fae princes. With a ragged gasp I lurched upright. Darkness pressed against me, obliterating my senses, and hiding the world. Rapid footsteps thudded toward me, bringing a glaring light that scorched my retinas.
“Isobel!” I snapped, screwing my eyes shut and shying away from the beam. “Turn off the torch!”
Instead of unyielding rock, something soft and warm shifted beneath me. A mattress. I wasn’t in the cave at all, and Isobel wasn’t waving her torch around without a care in the world for my vision. My thundering heart sank to the pit of my stomach as glimpses of the past day came back to me.
“Aliza, you have to get up.”
Light glared against my closed eyelids. “What?”
“Come on, quick. We have to hide.”
Hide? Why? What? Glimpses of my dream came back to me. A hand around my neck. Sharp teeth. The prince. Had he come for us? Were we hiding from him? No, that couldn’t be right. He was cursed, and I was supposed to save him.
I peeped through a crack in my eyelids. Pansy’s eyes stared back at me, ringed with white and brimming with fear. Her clammy hand closed around mine and she hauled me unceremoniously from the bed.
“Can’t see,” I muttered, stumbling over the duvet that had been dragged with me.
Pansy didn’t put out the light or offer an explanation. Instead, she tightened her grip on my hand and led me in a blind rush across the room. My bare feet scuffed the stone floor and tripped on rugs before finally slapping against the smooth cold of tiles. The faint scent of jasmine drifted up my nose. The bathroom.
“Pansy, what’s going on?” I dared to open my eyes wider. The light, though still bright, no longer threatened the permanent loss of my vision.
The sky outside the bare window was still fully black, and the glass reflected my dishevelled self and Pansy’s terror-stricken face with the clarity of a mirror.
