Freed from Gravity (Bound and Freed #2)

Chapter 2

Two

ALLETTE

The sack bobbles against my thigh as I race to where Senan stares up at the sky. Relief burns like a fever as hope floods my heart anew. I fall to my knees beside my prince, needing to touch him more than I need my next breath.

When his gaze meets mine, my thundering pulse stills.

His eyes are glassy and glazed, the silver of his irises dull, his pupils no more than pinpricks.

He blinks up at me, first one eye and then the other, before smiling a soft, sleepy sort of smile. “Allette?”

He’s alive. He’s safe. He knows me . All good things, but why does it still feel as if I’m holding my breath? “I’m here. I’m here, my love.” Cupping his stubbled jaw, I bring my forehead to his, taking his breaths as my own.

“He took my wings. He…he cut them off,” Senan slurs.

“I know he did. But think of how much faster you can run without them weighing you down.”

“Never liked running much. But I’ll run with you.” His eyes sink closed, and his head lolls to the side.

Still holding tight, I twist toward Bilson. “What is wrong with him?” Could the pain be making him delirious?

Bilson catches the prince’s brow, forcing Senan’s eyes open with his thick fingers, revealing no sign of silver, only white. “Still drunk, I suppose. The king gave him quite the dose of barmite. A blessing in disguise, really. Should dull the pain from the wounds.”

So that’s what the king poured down his throat. A bloody truth serum. “What if the king does the same to you?” Then Boris will find out we survived and send more guards after us.

“I’ve been taking small doses of barmite for years to build up an immunity. He’d have to drown me in it to reveal my truths.”

I want to trust Bilson; really, I do. Heaven knows we could use an ally. But after what Eason did, I don’t believe that Bilson’s intentions are entirely honorable.

Senan stirs, his head swinging up and eyes pinned, not on me, but on the tiny cottage. “Where are we?”

“In the human realm.”

The wrinkle between his dark eyebrows deepens. “This is where you lived…with him? ”

I hate to admit it, but there’s no point in denying the truth. “It is.”

Bilson’s fingers tap against his thighs, his gaze darting from me to Senan and back again. “Someone else lived here with you?”

“Eason fucking Bell,” Senan cuts in, his hands balling into fists on the frozen dirt. “He stole my mate. Took her right from under my wing and kept her for himself.”

Heat burns up my throat to my cheeks. “Enough about that. Bilson needs to return to Kumulus before they get suspicious.” And before I die of mortification.

The muscle in Bilson’s jaw feathers. “Where will you go?”

He must think me a fool if he expects me to tell him my plans. “It’s best if you don’t know.”

With a somber nod, Bilson collects a fistful of snow and then pushes to his feet. “Can you walk, sire?” he asks Senan, scrubbing the blood on his leathers until no trace remains.

“Better than you ever could,” Senan shoots back. But when he tries to move, his boots slip on the frozen earth. When Bilson extends a hand, Senan smacks him away.

“You’ve already done enough,” I tell the guard. “Leave us.” Bracing Senan’s arm across my shoulder, I manage to help him to his feet.

Bilson waits until we’re steady to turn on his heel and stomp back into the cottage. He reemerges a moment later with a cloud of black smoke chasing him out the door.

“What did he do?” Senan asks, watching his former guard melt into the forest, becoming just another shadow as smoke continues billowing out of the cottage.

Bilson is covering his tracks the same way Eason once did. If the other guards follow the smoke, they’ll find a burned-out shack and the charred remains of a woman. Hopefully, they won’t look too closely and realize there’s only one body.

The structure groans as the thatch roof and stone chimney collapse, red sparks shooting like fireworks into the sky.

I turn my prince from the flames and start for Window Mae’s home. “He’s giving us a chance.”

“Fuck, that hurts,” Senan grumbles, giving me far too much of his weight.

“I know, but we must keep moving. One step at a time. You’re doing so well.” As soon as we reached the tree line, I managed to use the vestiges of my magic to stir the snow near the cottage, obscuring our fleeing footprints.

Senan’s harsh breaths puff white clouds into the clear, cold air as we pick our way over fallen logs and twisted roots through the sleeping forest. We’ll be farther from the town and much-needed supplies, but also farther from the stones. I’d put an entire continent between us and the portal if I could.

“Why is it so…c-cold?”

“Because it’s winter.”

“I h-hate winter.”

Right now, with clumps of snow tumbling into my boots, making every step a slog, so do I.

The tall chimneys atop Widow Mae’s two-story house rise like beacons on the horizon. No smoke curls from the stone stacks, which bodes well for my plans to hunker down and hide from the world.

“Almost there,” I encourage, a little worried to see so much sweat beading on Senan’s brow. I hope that’s a side effect of the barmite or exertion, not the first signs of a fever.

Senan rests his head against my shoulder, his trembling breath fanning across my neck. “Mmmm… You smell nice.”

I’m not sure how that’s possible considering I’ve been to the pit and back, but who am I to call him a liar? “Thank you.”

His head droops forward, and he watches my legs as we stomp through the snow. “I like your feet.”

“What?”

“Your feet. They’re pretty. So are your knees.”

“You think my knees are pretty?”

“I think all of you is pretty.”

This man. Stars, do I love him. Even on the darkest day, he can bring a smile to my lips.

When we finally reach the front stoop, I ease from under Senan’s arm, propping him against the brick wall so I can retrieve the spare key hidden beneath the flowerpot. Unfortunately, this means digging through more snow until my fingers are numb.

A loud, guttural sob wrenches up Senan’s throat. I spring to my feet, finding tears streaming down his pale cheeks.

“What’s wrong? Is it your back?” What am I saying? Of course, it’s his bloody back. The man had his wings sawed off.

Grimacing, Senan drags a fist below his bloodshot eyes. “He did this to you. My own brother did this to you. I have never questioned or d-doubted my love for you, but now I am s-starting to realize that I am the c-curse. If you never met me?—”

“If I never met you, I would have never known true happiness.” I smooth away his tears with my thumbs as my doubts from only a short while ago fall from his lips. “You are not a curse, Senan. You are my purpose, my reason for fighting. For living. Now, let’s get you patched up so that we can put all of this behind us and start our life together.”

With tears glittering in his eyes, he nods.

I turn the key, twist the knob, and throw the door aside. Peppery notes of clove dance on a rush of frigid air. How is it colder in here than it is outside? Has the frost permeated the stone walls? I’ll need to build a fire before we succumb to hypothermia.

Hooking Senan’s arm around me once more, I help him through the living room and into the main bedroom on the first floor, where he collapses face-first onto the mattress with a groan.

I hate that it’s going to get worse before it gets better.

A few years ago, Eason cut his hand on his axe, and it was my responsibility to stitch the torn skin myself. Knowing what I know now, the blackguard could’ve easily used magic to heal himself.

He played his part well.

Too bloody well.

The only upside is that I have some experience in mending wounds.

The brass headboard whines when I sink next to Senan’s prone form. “I’ll need to remove your shirt. It’s going to hurt.”

“It already hurts,” he murmurs, his voice muffled by the quilt.

Tears prick the backs of my eyes. There will be plenty of time for crying, but right now there are more pressing matters at hand.

I leave to gather Mae’s sewing basket and a few cloths from the hot press, a bottle of whiskey from one of her cupboards, and a baking dish of fresh water from the sink.

Back in the bedroom, I use the silver shears from the basket to cut away Senan’s shirt until I reach the horrific bloodstains. The dried blood is like glue, so I use the water in the bowl to wet the fabric, giving me room to cut through the rest of the way and peel his shirt open.

Stars …

What a mess Boris made of my beloved’s back.

Two palm-sized fragments of Senan’s black wings protrude from behind his shoulder blades, twisted and gnarled with bits of feathers clinging to them and blood weeping from the broken edges.

I won’t only be sewing his back, but what remains of his beautiful onyx wings as well. “Stay as still as you can.” My hand trembles as I dip the cloth into the water.

Senan whimpers as I cleanse his wounds. He curses when I douse them in alcohol. And he screams as I sew them closed.

When I finish, he remains still, his breathing unsteady. I assume he’s passed out from the agony until he whispers, “I’m so sorry that I married the princess. They didn’t give me a choice.”

His words are another harsh reminder of what happened.

Boris and all those guards waiting for us at the portal, demanding information about the princess. She isn’t just the princess anymore, is she? Leeri Eadrom is Senan’s wife .

The quilt twists beneath my clenching hands. “Do you have any idea where she might be?” I ask, doing my best to keep the depth of my pain from leaking into my tone.

“No,” he says with a small shake of his head, still staring at the wall. “But she was naked so she couldn’t have gone far.”

Oh, stars… “So you did sleep with her.”

It doesn’t matter. It does not matter. Anything that transpired between them wasn’t because Senan wanted her, but because he was forced. I will not take it to heart. I will not punish either of us for something outside our control.

“No. Nope. Nooo . Saw her bits though. Not nearly as nice as yours.” Senan’s long fingers envelop mine, loosening my death grip on the quilt. “How did you survive this pain?”

The pain of having my wings stolen was nothing compared to the agony of losing the two people I loved most in this world. “I don’t know.” But I did survive, and so will he.

Senan brings my hand to his soft lips, his warm breath thawing my frigid fingers. “I’m so sorry, Allette.”

“Do not apologize. This is no more your fault than it is mine.”

The fault for what happened to us falls solely on Boris Vale’s villainous shoulders.

If I ever cross paths with the King of Kumulus again, he will rue the day he tried to murder my mate.