Idris lowered his arms obligingly, twining his fingers into the mane again. I let out a breath of relief, but it took a few seconds more to relax my vice-like grip on his shirt, and even longer to let enjoyment weave between the tight coils of fear once more. But it was impossible not to enjoy this. Even though the cold wind all but skinned my bare hands and legs, even though my eyes streamed continuously. It all faded into insignificance as we soared through endless blue. I could have stayed up there forever, huddled against Idris’ warmth, with Heaven within my reach.
My body disagreed.
When at last we landed, surprisingly smoothly, all things considered, I could barely pry my stiff arms from the prince’s waist. I was frozen. My whole body trembled with cold and adrenalin, and the ground spun beneath me. Idris swung his leg over the horse’s neck, sliding gracefully to his feet, and turned to lift me down. Though I tried to help, my legs wouldn’t cooperate, and I suspected I resembled nothing more than a sack of gravel as he dragged me from his glorious steed. My legs immediately buckled, and I flopped onto my back, shivering violently and staring at the sky I’d soared from only moments ago.
Saeth wandered away with a snort, his cold, damp feathers skimming the length of my leg. I couldn’t even bring myself to roll away from his thudding hooves. Idris’ face appeared above me, blocking the light, his mussed-up hair a faintly glowing halo in the sunlight. Ironic, given he was the devil incarnate.
“Are you well?”
Well? Well? I’d just had my hand inside a cloud. A peal of hysterical laughter erupted from me.
“I’ll take that as a no.”
He disappeared from my line of sight, but a faint rustle alerted me to movement at my side. I lolled my head to find him draped on his side in the grass, his temple propped on his fist. His hair really was a disaster, and his skin was flushed, but there was a light in his eyes that I’d never seen there before. That hair though…
My trembling, numb fingers patted my own head, and I grimaced at the tangles I was unlikely to ever fully comb out.
His eyes followed the movement. “It’s worse than you can possibly imagine.”
I chuckled, my hand flopping onto my belly, which still swirled and somersaulted and plummeted. “It was worth it. That was sik.”
My words slurred over my numb lips.
“Sik?”
I could practically hear his disapproving frown.
“I forgot you’re a dinosaur. It means… amazing. Incredible.”
“What is a dinosaur?”
I squinted my eyes against the sun to look at him. “Something even older than you, if you can imagine.” I felt drunk, like I couldn’t make my words come as quickly as they should, my tongue slow to form them.
His lips tightened ever so slightly. “What’s the matter with you?”
As though in answer, my body gave a violent shudder. “Cold,” I breathed through numb lips. “Freezing.”
His frown deepened, his green gaze raking over me. How had he avoided hypothermia? Was it something to do with being immortal? Not fair…
My eyelids flickered, and then the ground was moving, jolting, and heat washed over me. I opened my eyes to find myself nestled to Idris’ chest, his arms cradling me. My frosty brain registered dim surprise and I wriggled, trying to free myself. He shouldn’t be doing that. He didn’t even like me. Idris' arms tightened, pressing me close.
“I forgot how pathetic humans are.” His voice came from far away, seeping into my consciousness like warm chocolate sauce drizzled over ice cream.
“I miss chocolate,” I mumbled.
“And strange,” Idris huffed. “Pathetic and strange.”
My eyelids drooped again, too heavy to resist the warmth pressing against my cheek. I curled into it, savouring it as it sank deeper into my frozen flesh, and I sank into dreams of feathers and clouds and wild, unbound laughter.
When I stirred, I found myself back in my room at Nairsgarth, wrapped in a toasty cocoon of blankets. The fire roared in the grate, and on my nightstand stood a plate of luxuriously decorated chocolates.
I took my breakfast in the communal dining hall the next morning, hoping to bump into Idris, but the prince’s dark hair was nowhere to be seen amongst the heads of many witches, all gleaming in the sunlight streaming through the doors, thrown open to the courtyard.
When I was accosted by a seamstress, mere heartbeats after swallowing my last mouthful of porridge mounded in brown sugar and laying down my spoon, and dragged along to a studio brimming with rolls of fabric in every colour of the rainbow, he wasn’t there either.
Maybe the princes already had more than enough regal costumes fit for a fairytale ball, but I couldn’t show up dressed in denim hotpants, and so I endured the measuring and prodding and poking while mindlessly agreeing to every design suggestion the witch threw my way, all the while itching to escape, my head full of clouds and feathers.
Had yesterday been a nightmare turned into the loveliest of dreams? I’d started the morning at a funeral, only to end up as close to heaven as any living soul had ever been.
No sooner had the seamstress dismissed me then I leapt down from the crate she’d insisted I stand on, despite my already prominent height advantage, and dashed away down the corridor, barely noticing the direction my feet carried me in.
My fingers flexed, the tips rubbing together as I passed a window and glimpsed the fluffy white clouds beyond. I’d touched one of those. I’d held out my hand, reaching, and Idris had done something with his body weight in response, steering the horse closer until my fingers had trailed through the swirling mist. Such a small gesture, but the gift he’d given me… it was profound. A core memory. I would never forget that moment. Which was precisely why I wanted to see him today, to thank him, and to apologise. I’d misjudged him.
Maybe it was because I was already thinking of him, but when I came across him, lounging in a secluded oriel window, sketching in his little black book, I walked straight past, too lost in thoughts of him to sort memories from the present.
Realising my mistake, I halted, glancing over my shoulder, only to find his eyes already pinned on me beneath surly eyebrows. A tiny crease formed between them at my attention.
Smiling, I retraced my steps and trilled, “Morning.”
One of his long legs was propped on the window seat, leaving no room for a second person to sit, while the other trailed on the floor, the picture of princely arrogance. He made no effort to budge, nor did he return my smile. Instead, he dropped my gaze, resuming his sketching, and said, “It is indeed morning.”
My spirits, which soared on feathered wings, dipped slightly, jostled by sudden turbulence. The scratch of his pencil filled the awkward silence.
“Drawing anything good?”
“Why are you here?” he asked without looking up, his cool, irritable tone negating the need for a glare or filthy look.
