The Encounter
THE ENCOUNTER
T onight was his last chance to catch the thief and save Garrin. No pressure . The thought was almost laughable. Almost. His heart was too heavy to find any humor in the situation.
A rash still covered his tongue and cheeks, a persistent reminder that he must refuse any food or drink offered to him. He looked around the still garden, shrouded in solitude. Would the thief return tonight? He could only hope and pray that the person would.
He stretched out his legs and rested his back against the trunk of the tree as a long yawn stretched over his mouth. When his eyelids began to droop, he got to his feet and began pacing back and forth across the soft grass in restless strides.
And then it happened.
His heart jerked when he heard the soft, lilting sound of a woman singing. The notes floated on the night breeze like a whisper of forgotten dreams, filling him with indescribable joy. It permeated every empty space inside him and embraced his soul. While he’d sat through many a performance by renowned minstrels, he’d never before heard anything so exquisite.
This had to be the work of magic.
He pressed a hand over the neck of his tunic and felt the comforting outline of the stone. He hoped with all of his heart that the stone was magical. And that it would somehow help him get through the next several hours.
He jumped to his feet and looked around in all directions. “Who’s there?”
The singing stopped. After hearing such perfection, the silence was deafening. He swallowed hard and winced at the dryness in his throat. Suddenly, he was parched. The need to quench his thirst overshadowed all else. It was a persistent, pressing desire that throbbed through his body, demanding to be satisfied. He pulled the necklace from his tunic and cupped it in his hand. The need for water abated as quickly as it had come.
Exultation swelled through him. He might just have a chance against this wily thief.
He cocked his ears, hoping to catch the slightest sound.
He heard a rustle of movement and looked to the right.
A slender maiden with long, golden hair that flowed over her shoulders in a thick curtain came gliding towards him with such nimble movements that she might’ve been part Fae. She was ethereal—a goddess come to earth. A warm smile of recognition curved her lips. “Good evening, Tabian. It’s nice to see you again.”
He blinked. “Again?”
He glanced at his bow, resting on the ground. Everything in him shouted that this was a trap. And yet, he was so mesmerized that his gaze was drawn to her. To say she was beautiful would’ve been an understatement. Her shimmery hair was a halo of perfection around her heart-shaped face. Even though she was waif thin, she wasn’t too skinny. Her cheekbones were high and taut against her ivory skin. Her slender nose tipped up slightly on the end, giving her an impish quality. Everything about her—right down to the lyrical refinement of her voice was desirable.
Tabian yearned to do everything in his power to please this perfect creature. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for her. He’d carve out his own heart and hand it to her if she asked. A warning bell went off in his head. This wasn’t normal. He placed a hand over the stone and pressed it to his chest. He welcomed the blessed return to sanity, which immediately came. His mind was again his own.
He looked at the maiden through new eyes. She was still stunningly beautiful, but he could now withstand her bewitching charm. She was a maiden of flesh and bones, not an ethereal being. He glanced down at the bow, wondering if he should grab it and shoot her with an arrow. Even as the thought flitted through his mind, he winced. He didn’t want to have this maiden’s blood on his hands.
Laughter flowed from her throat like the delicate tinkling of bells. “You’ll have no use for that,” she said smoothly. “I came early so that we would have plenty of time to finish our conversation from last night.”
He flinched with the realization that he’d conversed with her the night before. No doubt he’d been a doting fool who played right into her hands.
No chance of that happening tonight. Not while he was wearing the necklace. Gratitude welled in his chest. His mother had given him a great gift of protection. And he’d gotten it just in the nick of time.
The maiden lowered her thick lashes so that they brushed softly against her skin. Then she looked up at him with a shyness that was both endearing and alluring. “Let’s sit down. We have several hours before dawn approaches.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You mean several hours before you can steal another apple?”
She blinked as if shocked by his harsh response. It only took her a moment to recover, an expression of gentle reproach crossing her face. “I just want to talk.” She offered a demure smile. She patted her side, and he realized she was wearing a leather flask. “After we’re done talking, I’ll give you some water. You must be thirsty.”
His first inclination was to hurl accusations at her, but then he thought better of it. This maiden possessed the ability to enchant men and make them forget anything that happened. There was no telling what other powers she possessed. Even if he managed to shoot her with an arrow, it was doubtful that she would be hurt. The best chance he had of outwitting her was to make her believe he was enchanted by her spell.
He feigned longing, letting his gaze linger on the flask before meeting her eyes. “A drink would be nice.” No doubt there was more than just water in the flask. Whatever it was had put him in a deep sleep the night before and stolen his memories.
A glimmer of satisfaction touched her beautiful face. “Let’s talk first, and then you may drink.”
They sat down on the grass. He angled to face her. “You have the advantage. I have no recollection of speaking with you last night.”
She chuckled. “Well, let me refresh your memory. We talked about your father and brothers. We talked about Arabella and how she betrayed you with Lucien.”
His eyes widened. “I told you all of that?”
She nodded, watching him carefully.
He was appalled that he’d shared intimate details with this thief. He exhaled, forcing his voice to remain steady. “Did you tell me any personal details about yourself?”
“A few.” She gave him a cryptic smile.
He held her eyes, marveling at their depth of blue. “Refresh my memory.”
She dipped her head thoughtfully, her long tresses tumbling over her arm. “I told you that I’m an only child, and my father is a cobbler.”
“Where do you live?”
She rocked back as fear edged into her eyes. “I cannot tell you that. It is forbidden.” She glanced around as if afraid someone would overhear.
He leaned forward. “Forbidden by whom?” What was she afraid of?
She tensed, staring into his eyes. “Don’t ask me that again.”
Tabian understood what was happening. She was working her enchantment and expected him to immediately comply with her command. “Okay,” he said dutifully. “I won’t.”
She immediately relaxed.
An easy smile stole over his lips. “There must be something you can tell me about yourself. You have a lovely voice.”
She grinned with pleasure. “Thank you.”
“When you’re not singing, what do you like to do?”
She thought for a moment. “I enjoy walking on the sand and watching the waves crash into the shore.”
She lived near the sea. He committed that bit of knowledge to memory. “Tell me about your father—the cobbler. Does he do fine work?”
“Aye,” she grinned. “The best. Many people travel a great distance to hire him.”
He looked down at the fine leather slippers on her feet. They were dyed a rich chestnut hue that had a subtle sheen. Along the edges, in silver thread, was an embroidered intricate pattern of vines. Also, the toes of the shoes were pointed just enough to add a sense of refinement. “Did he make those?”
“He did,” she answered with pride.
Now that she was more relaxed, he took the conversation in another direction. “Last night, did I tell you about Garrin and how he’s in the dungeon?”
Her eyes shadowed with an emotion he couldn’t discern. “You did.” She looked down. “I’m so sorry.”
Fury kindled inside him. It took all the intestinal fortitude he could muster to keep from lashing out at her. “I must catch the thief who has been stealing the apples. Garrin’s life depends on it.”
She lifted her face to his, something flickering behind her mask of serenity. “You love him very much.”
“I do. He’s like a father to me. Tonight is my last chance to save him.”
They locked eyes for several long moments until she looked away.
His next words fell from his lips before he could decide if they should be spoken. “Why are you doing this?”
Her expression grew pinched. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”
“And yet, an innocent man will die if you take another apple.” He caught hold of her arm. “You must go before my real father—the King—and admit to taking the apples.”
She looked deeply into his eyes as her voice cut through the night air with the force of a dagger. “You need to drop this line of questioning. Now,” she ordered. She looked down at his hand, which was digging into her skin. “Release my arm.”
Reluctantly, he did so.
Silence descended over them.
She assessed him critically. “You’re different tonight.”
He kept his voice light. “Oh? How so?”
“You’re angry, confrontational.” She knitted her brows, her lips forming a petulant frown. “I liked you better last night.” She rubbed the spot on her arm where he’d grabbed her. “That’s why I came early—so we could talk like we did before.”
It was all he could do not to laugh in her face. “Sorry to disappoint you.”
“You were charming last night … funny.”
This time, he couldn’t stop himself from barking out a laugh. “Charming? Funny? Are you sure you’re not mistaking me for my brother Lucien?”
Her answer was immediate. “I’m quite sure. In fact, I thought we had a connection. I was actually disappointed that you wouldn’t remember anything we talked about.”
He’d had a connection with this magnificent maiden? The news boggled his mind almost as much as her magical abilities and the strangeness of this whole situation. She settled down, a pleasant expression coming over her. “Tell me more about Hans and all of your madcap adventures in the forest. I’m glad that you were able to rescue him from the river.” She shuddered. “That sounded so scary.”
“It was.” He’d certainly spoken freely the night before about his life.
Her expression grew dreamy. “I enjoyed hearing about the royal ball. I can’t imagine what it must be like to get dressed up in royal finery and dance the night away amidst lively music and the flicker of countless candles.”
Her words surprised him. When he first laid eyes on her, he thought her finer dressed than any other maiden he’d ever beheld, including Arabella. It occurred to him now that her frock—although a vivid sapphire fabric that matched her eyes—was a simple design, and she wore no jewelry. Rather than styling her hair in an elaborate braid in keeping with fashion, she wore her hair loose and unencumbered. She was so elusive that she might’ve originated from the water or the air. He got the feeling she would disappear as quickly as she’d come. He wondered again where she was from.
“You’re very fortunate to be a prince,” she said with a note of envy.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he scoffed. “I’m ignored by my father and ridiculed by my older brothers.” He pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. “I might as well be invisible.”
She fired back a rebuttal. “At least you have Garrin, Elda, and Hans.”
“I won’t have Garrin if I can’t catch the thief,” he growled and was met with a stilted silence.
He took the conversation in another direction. “What happened to your mother?”
Sadness shadowed her eyes. “She left.”
Her haunting expression was a painful reminder of his own loss. “I’m sorry.” His words fell between them, empty and futile.
They settled into the confines of their own thoughts. Tabian looked up at the diamond-studded sky before glancing back at the maiden, noting the gentle curve of her jaw and the softness of her full lips. Without warning, a warm dart of desire shot through him. He touched the spot where his necklace rested against his chest, hoping the stone would squelch her control over him.
Nothing happened.
The pull to her was still there—strong as ever.
Maybe he was actually attracted to her. How could he not be? She was a vision. Much different from Arabella, who was so sophisticated. The blonde maiden beside him was ethereal—fragile and yet strong at the same time. He traveled the length of her long blonde hair and wondered if it would feel as silky as it looked.
He averted his gaze, forcing himself to get a grip. This woman was his enemy. She planned to take another apple and cause Garrin’s death. He couldn’t let her uncannily strong appeal make him forget that crucial fact.
She didn’t speak, seemingly content to sit and soak up the quietude of the early morning.
Dawn would be approaching soon. Urgency tightened Tabian’s gut, filling him with the knowledge that he would do everything in his power to catch this thief. “What now? It would seem that we’ve run out of things to talk about.”
A playful smile tugged at a corner of her mouth as she turned to him. “You could always kiss me again.”
Her words took the breath out of his lungs. “What?” he balked. “I kissed you?”
“Nay,” she said with a superior look, “but you wanted to. I couldn’t let you do it while you were” — she twirled her hand as she searched for the right words— “while you were …”
“Caught under your spell?” he finished for her.
Guilt filled her eyes, transforming them into fathomless twin pools so deep that he could dive into them and never make it back out. “Aye,” she uttered softly as she clasped her hands.
“Is there anything more that you can tell me about yourself?”
She pressed her lips together, thinking. “Well, I enjoyed talking to you last night … immensely.” She turned to him, her eyes softening.
How easy it would be to pull her into his arms and give in to the temptation to capture his lips with hers. He held her gaze. “What can I do to stop you from stealing the apple?” The time for playing games was over. He grabbed her arm. “You will go before my father and answer for the crimes you committed. That is the only way Garrin will be able to go free.”
Authority reined in her voice. “Release my arm.”
“Nay.” He tightened his grasp.
Shock trembled through her as her tone grew plaintive. “Why aren’t you obeying me?” She was suddenly vulnerable and fragile as glass.
He reminded himself that shards of glass had the power to cut. “This ends tonight,” he vowed.
“I—I don’t understand. No one has ever been able to escape the spell.”
He pushed out a harsh laugh. “Enough of your games. Let’s go.” He rose to his feet and roughly heaved her up.
“P—please. You don’t understand. I have to take the apple or else …” She pressed her lips together.
“Or else what?” he demanded.
Her words fell from her lips. “I can’t say anything else.” Tears gathered in her eyes. “It’s forbidden.”
He grunted. “You said that already.”
She offered a tiny, sad smile. “For what it’s worth, I do genuinely like you. If we’d met in another time or place.” Her voice grew wistful. “Who knows what we could’ve been to one another.”
For some reason he didn’t understand, a sense of both nostalgia and loss swept over him at the same time. “I don’t even know your name.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Her eyes darkened with what looked to be desire. She lunged forward and pressed her mouth to his.
He stiffened in surprise as her mouth moved coaxingly against his. Her lips were so soft, so intoxicating. He drank in her sweetness as his emotions skittered and tumbled. Instinctively releasing her arm, he moved to encircle her waist with his arms and pull her close. However, before he could, she darted away, her long hair flying out like wings behind her.
“Come back,” he yelled as he sprang into action. He reached to get his bow. Hands swift and quick, he reached for an arrow and positioned it into the bow. He drew back the string, his heart pounding profusely. “Stop, or I’ll shoot!”
She kept going, not looking back.
“Stop,” he ordered again. If he let her escape, then Garrin would die. He released the arrow. It flew swift and straight, hitting her in the shoulder. She fell to the ground.
A pang went through Tabian’s heart. “I’m sorry.” Her still form lay on the ground in a crumpled heap. Lowering the bow, he began walking towards her to inspect the damage. Had he killed her? He trembled at the thought.
He froze in place when she transformed into a bird that looked to be made of pure gold. She lifted into the air, flapping her wings in frantic motions, the arrow still lodged in her. Away she flew, vanishing into some secret part of the gray sky.
Tabian rushed over to the spot where she’d fallen.
Resting on the grass was a single golden feather.