Anwir looked at my hand, still resting on his arm, then lifted his eyes to mine. I hadn’t realised how close we were until those beautiful, golden-green orbs were before me. My breath stilled at how utterly gorgeous he was.
Flushing, I snatched my hand away. “What sort of magic do you have?”
“Lightning.” His voice was gruffer than it had been a moment ago. “Almost as rare as my mother’s gift, but much more dangerous.”
Of course. The crown prince was the only fae capable of wielding lightning, the only one capable of fighting back against the shades. I already knew that. Why wasn’t my brain working properly?
“I’d like to see it, when we’ve crossed the wards.”
Anwir shook his head. “I never use it. It’s not worth the risks.”
Something gnawed in my gut. “You’ll use it to get rid of the shades, though, won’t you?”
What if he refused? How could the fae fight Maelgwyn if their best warrior refused to wield his unique weapons? Had my efforts to wake him been for nothing?
“Time to go.”
I blinked and found Sage staring down at us.
“If we want to reach the border by nightfall, we need to make good time. Pack up.” She turned on her heel and stalked away, issuing orders.
Anwir stood, extending his hand. I couldn’t bring myself to look him in those stunning eyes as I took it, and he pulled me to my feet. What would that enormous hand feel like on other parts of my body? I gulped. Did he hold my hand a little longer than necessary, or was it wishful thinking?
Why was I wishing anything of the sort? My task was complete. I was going home. But I didn’t pull my hand away. I let him hold it, his skin warm against mine, until he gave me a small smile and dropped it of his own accord. Was it my imagination, or where his cheeks pinker than they had been a few minutes ago?
Nearby, Idris clambered to his feet and wandered off between the trees, disappearing from sight. Why didn’t he stay with the group? Was he off to murder more innocent animals, or was he up to something much worse?
22Years Of Academy Training, Wasted
Sage really did mean business. By my calculations, lunch should have been hours and hours ago, and my measly apple felt like it belonged to a different lifetime. I’d been light-headed and jelly-legged for ages, my stomach long since past the stage of rumbling. Instead, it felt like it was trying to implode.
My brain might have been full of starving fog, but I hadn’t failed to notice Idris slipping away from the main group several times during our long trek, only to return without fanfare or fuss an hour or two later. In fact, he was absent when Sage finally took mercy and called us to a halt beside a chatty stream. For all I knew, it was the same stream I’d fallen into during the spider attack on our journey to find the princes, but my senses had given up caring hours ago. I felt more than a little drunk as I sank down onto a rock while the witches busied themselves behind me.
I should have eaten more at breakfast, but I hadn’t expected to skip lunch completely. My rock was located in a patch of sunlight, and I tipped my head back, letting the light warm my face. If Sage hadn’t been such a tyrant, and if the world wasn’t full of monsters, I could have gladly stayed there for hours, basking in the early evening glow.
Before long, the scent of smoke and roasting meat drifted up my nose. The no fire rule had obviously been abandoned completely. The stream burbled past, and birds twittered overhead. I couldn’t bring myself to worry about spiders, or anything except the very real possibility of me fainting and falling face first into the water.
When the sun sank too low to break through the treetops, I gave up my sunbathing and watched my companions with fuzzy eyes. Nobody bothered me. Even Pansy kept her distance. True, she was busy, but I couldn’t help but feel she was making herself scarce deliberately, leaving room for a certain prince to speak with me. But Anwir was busy too, helping to prepare dinner.
I admired his broad back as he prodded and poked the fire. It was a miracle that his glorious physique had survived hundreds of years suspended in a tomb. The curse had clearly frozen its victims, preserving them in perfect condition. Had they truly been sleeping, or had they been aware of every second? Either way, it seemed a foolish way to go about things. If I’d been a villain, I’d have gone for something a little more debilitating, or permanent, but I wasn’t complaining. The view was really quite miraculous.
My gaze drifted, landing on an equally beautiful form. I blinked in mild surprise. Idris was back. I hadn’t noticed him sneaking back into camp, but there he was, lurking slightly away from the rest of the group, silent and sulking as usual, but helping. He knelt in the dirt, sleeves rolled up and knife in hand, chopping away at something I couldn’t see. A lock of black hair fell into his eyes, and he swiped at it with his bare forearm before returning to chopping. Muscles and tendons flexed under his skin as he worked. Had he been hunting again? Was that what he was doing during his absences?
What if he was a traitor?
The thought slid down my spine like an ice cube, and goosebumps erupted over my skin. What if he was a traitor? What if he was sneaking away to meet with his evil uncle? No, it made no sense. Why would he work for someone who had cursed him? Idris might be standoffish and rude and downright unpleasant, but he wouldn’t betray us, would he? Not his own brother, not the woman who’d broken his curse?
I’d kissed him.
Heat licked at my neck, chasing away my chill. My lips had touched his, and the curse had broken. God, I still couldn’t believe that it had actually worked. It was such a cliché.
Which prince did you give your life to, mon amor?
Did the vision’s message mean Idris would betray me? Did he remember the kiss?
As though he read my gut-twisting thoughts, Idris’ whipped his head around, eyes snapping to me over his broad shoulder. I looked away hurriedly, pretending I hadn’t been admiring his muscular forearms while remembering my lips on his. I hoped I hadn’t turned beetroot. I felt like I was about to spontaneously combust from the shame of it. If I did, it would be a mercy.
Abandoning my rock, I rose on wobbly legs. The world swayed, and it was a few seconds before I was steady enough to attempt what I hoped was a casual stroll over to the fire. Some poor little soul was roasting over the flames, but I averted my eyes before I could make out what, exactly, had been slaughtered.
“Can I help?” I asked nobody in particular.
I wasn’t sure what use I could possibly be, but I didn’t want to sit around looking shifty.
“You’ve already done your share.” Anwir smiled up at me from where he crouched over an assortment of metal plates and bowls. He offered one to me. “Here, this is for you.”
My plate was crammed with food. Carefully sliced cheese, including some of that delicious cranberry one, a mound of nuts piled on top of a bed of leaves, an assortment of juicy berries, buttered bread, and taking centre stage, an apple. Not just any old apple though. It had been sliced into delicate, wafer-thin strips, which had been skilfully arranged to look like a rose in full bloom.
“Oh my God.” I took the plate, a smile spreading over my face. “This is amazing! I almost don’t want to eat it.”
“Eat,” Anwir said firmly. “You look like you’re about to keel over.”
Well, that was always good to hear, especially from somebody who was too handsome to be allowed. Still, he was probably right.
“Thank you. This is really thoughtful, and pretty.”
“It suits you then.”
My blush bypassed my ears completely, igniting my entire face. I tried to speak, but the only sound I could make was an awkward high-pitched laugh. I retreated to my rock before I could embarrass myself further, but not before Pansy could give me a wink and a sneaky grin from where she sat, turning a stick of skewered mushrooms over the flame.
