Chapter Twenty-Six. In Which the Prince Reveals a Secret #3
“What happened?” the guard asked, staring down at his calloused hands with a queasy look. His voice was rusty from disuse. He cleared his throat to dislodge the gravel. “I feel sick.”
Javi glanced down at Risa, one brow arched in question, and she shrugged. She didn’t think informing the guard that he’d been stuck in a curse for the last five years was a good start to his unexpected freedom.
“I am Prince Javi of Kheadon,” the prince tried again, voice gentle and warm as he stood up. Free of the curse, the guard stood a few inches straighter, though he did not reach the prince’s absurd height. “I’m here for my wedding.”
“Huh?” The guard glanced at the castle walls, then back at them. His sparse brows drew together in a V. “What’s going on?”
Risa struggled to her feet with some difficulty, though Javi was helping her in an instant. “You’re a guard at the castle. There’s a wedding happening right now and the groom”—she indicated Javi with a flick of her wrist—“is late.”
The guard peered into Javi’s face and blinked. He stepped back, unsure. “I don’t remember.”
The curse had done far more damage than Risa had anticipated. The guard struggled to get rid of the mental cobwebs, scratching at his head, blinking furiously up at the sky, then at the ground, then at them.
“Here,” Risa said. She took his arm and helped him sit on the dusty ground until his back settled against the white wall. “You must be tired.”
“Yes.” His lethargic nod made a limp curl fall across his forehead. “Very much.”
“That’s all right.” She jerked her head at Javi, then at the gate.
The prince edged toward it while she handled the guard, whose head was tilting backward as he struggled to stay awake.
She had no idea whether letting him doze off was the right thing to do, whether somehow the curse would find a way to creep back in if she left him there on the ground.
“You can rest here for a while, and when you wake up, you should go home.”
He nodded again, lashes fluttering like moth wings. “I’ll take a quick nap,” he managed before his head lolled to the side and he slipped into sleep.
Risa adjusted his head with careful fingers. She didn’t want him to wake up with a crick in his neck in addition to having no clue what had occurred in the last half decade. When she was satisfied, she joined Javi at the gate and tried not to sway on her feet.
The prince slipped his arm around her waist and hoisted her weight onto his shoulder, nary a complaint on his lip about his bad back. She was too tired to swat him away, and too embarrassed by the sudden warmth that crawled up her neck at the feeling of his hand on her hip.
She was on a mission here. She couldn’t afford to be distracted. He’d tease her forever if he knew that his reverent touch made fire bloom in her chest.
“What did you do back there?” He seemed unaware of her internal turmoil as they snuck through an arched door of white wood, its silver handles glinting in the sun.
On the other side, an impressive swath of verdant green that fanned across the courtyard transported them out of the desert.
Risa couldn’t imagine the amount of water it took to keep the gardens alive under the harsh conditions of the desert, and she felt a spark of anger at the thought of what it meant for the people in the capital, trudging up those endless steep hills covered in layers of dust.
She could have used a drink of water then.
The gardens were perfectly manicured squares with perfectly manicured bushes that created more geometric shapes, which must have appeared majestic from the overlooking windows.
A white stone path snaked all around and ultimately led to the stone monolith of the castle entrance with its pair of large, imposing doors inlaid with silver.
She and Javi should have been more careful striding out in the open, obviously wounded, covered in grime and sand, moments away from storming a wedding, but the gardens were eerily empty.
There were no guards, no guests, not even attendants hurrying about.
The only people around were a few hunched groundskeepers, leatherlike hands wrapped around rakes and shovels, unaware of the pair.
“I broke him out of the curse.” Risa was racked by a sudden cough and lifted her hand to her mouth. It came away wet and sticky, black tar glistening on her palm like an oil slick. “Not my best work, apparently.”
His mouth pursed. He was silent for a moment, jaw flexing as he weighed his next words. “You were glowing,” he eventually said, an accusation mixed with awe.
“Oh.” She was surprised. She didn’t think he’d been literal when he mentioned it before. “I didn’t know.”
“Like a goddess,” he muttered, as if his sudden discovery of this divinity were a devastating fact. He shook himself, reaching for her hand. “Which is why I must tell you this now.”
She stiffened at the words, prepared to bolt. “What?”
Was he going to reveal that he knew about her all along? Was he going to admit that she was a mere distraction, that he would return to his real life and she would be relegated to a distant memory?
He gulped. “I’m cursed.”