Chapter 12 - Facets of a Prince
Wrenora
Warmth. Blessed, magical, wonderful warmth.
I snuggled deeper into the heavy blanket, letting the comfortable scent of cedarwood and peppermint permeate my entire being and sink into my thoughts.
It was so familiar, like a crisp winter morning.
My body ached from being curled in on itself, and I stretched my limbs out as far as I could, still not reaching the edges of whatever it was I’d been placed on.
The last thing I could remember was my cheek pressed to the prince’s armor, needles of the cold stabbing my extremities.
I sat up abruptly. Realizing I had no idea where I was, I glanced around. A worktable with canisters of crystals. Walls covered with bookcases. Translucent ceiling above.
I was in the prince’s study.
I jumped to my feet, my head spinning. The familiar smell was him.
I’d been sleeping on his sofa, under his blanket.
In his personal space. A space I’d been told I wasn’t allowed to be in.
I tried to remember how I’d gotten here, but all I could think of was his angry eyes when he’d burst into Madam Ignes’s home.
Fynn pranced into the room and over to me, hopping up onto the sofa and sprawling out to show me his belly.
“Well, hello to you, too.”
He slow-blinked at me, and I sat back down beside him, my fingers sinking into his impossibly soft fur.
“He’s going to kill me when he finds me here.”
“Only if you give me a reason.”
I was on my feet again in an instant, my eyes snapping to the prince as he stood in the doorway of his study, his arms folded across his chest. He was dressed as usual, but without his mask or gloves, leaving me with the maddening view of his handsome face, drawing my eyes instantly to the scars down his cheek.
“I...”
“Did you sleep well?” His voice was different from how he usually spoke. All the harshness and frustration were gone, leaving a smooth quality that settled low in my stomach.
“I...Yes, I did,” I said as I clasped and unclasped my hands, unsure where this new prince had come from and if I should bow or curtsey. What had changed between the last time I’d seen him and now?
“Magdala was concerned.”
Magdala. I vaguely remembered fingers in my hair. The elven woman’s sweet cooing voice as she told me I’d be alright.
“What do you want with me?”
I didn’t expect an answer. I expected his usual frustration, but instead, he took several steps into the room, his hands dropping to his sides.
I also didn’t expect the slight limp—the one I’d first noticed when he’d retrieved me.
I tried to push the thought away. I didn’t want to be curious about him.
Fynn sprung from his spot on the sofa and ran to rub against the prince’s legs and was promptly scooped into Callan’s arm.
“You’re an imbuing master.”
I blinked hard a few times, my throat tightening with fear. How did he know? How could he know? Since stepping away from my studies to follow my dead brother into the war, that part of my life had been left behind. And now it was shackled, forcibly locked away for the rest of my life.
“I...” Swallowing my fear, I tipped my chin up. “You seem so certain.”
The prince tipped his head to the side, the tiniest smirk turning up one side of his lips before he hid it again. “You haven’t denied it.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but he was right. I pressed my lips together, trying to hold his eye contact.
“I have need of your skills before I return you to your people.”
To my people? Was he actually going to let me go? To set me free? But it didn’t matter. I wasn’t who he thought I was.
“I’m not a master, and I haven’t imbued anything in years.”
He took another step closer, his fingers stroking through Fynn’s fur as the cat’s eyes lulled closed.
“I need you to help me create suppression gems,” he said, ignoring my last comment.
A shiver writhed up my back as the hair on my neck stood on end.
Suppression gems were the hardest to imbue.
They took incredible amounts of concentration and skill.
I glanced at his worktable, the contents finally clicking into place.
One of the canisters was full of amethysts.
Another with spinel and ametrine. If rumors were true and he was as powerful as we’d been told he was, he’d likely tried and failed to imbue the gems himself.
Frost magic wasn’t as effective, even when it was powerful. Imbuing needed heat.
“I...”
“I managed to get sapphires from the mines in Mariss, but I’m not sure of their quality.”
He knew enough about imbuing to know sapphires were best, that their quality would speak to whether they could hold the amount of power needed. If he had canisters of purple stones, I’m sure he’d know to get purple sapphires as well.
The facets of this prince were becoming far more intricate than I liked. I also didn’t like that his lavender eyes watched me with curiosity instead of open hostility. I wouldn’t fall for this, though. He was being nice because he needed something, not because he cared.
“I’m not sure I can help you,” I finally said, holding up my wrists to remind him of my shackles.
Even if I wanted to help him, my magic was caged.
He took another step forward, letting Fynn jump from his arms to the floor, and I took a step back, needing more space between us. I misjudged how far the sofa was behind me, my legs ramming into the edge, making me lose my balance.
He moved so fast, a warrior’s speed, but before he touched me, he pulled back, letting me fall the rest of the way to the sofa with an umph.
Our eyes met, wide with shock as he stood over me, his hands held up as if to prove he hadn’t touched me.
What I hadn’t expected was how much they shook.
Or the fear in his eyes. He was scared. Perhaps scared he’d almost touched me, a filthy thrall woman.
“You’re...limping.” I hadn’t wanted to point out that I’d noticed, but the words were there before I could stop them.
He straightened, the muscles in his neck tight. “It’s nothing.”
How easily a lie slipped from his lips.
“Your definition of ‘nothing’ seems—”
“It’s nothing.”
“What do you want suppression gems for?” I asked.
What I really wanted to ask was why my heart raced when he came closer? Why my cheeks were so hot? Why did the thrill of excitement wriggle through me at the thought of attempting to imbue gems again. To imbue gems for him?
“I...” It was his turn to stumble over his words. He swallowed hard as he stepped back, finally letting his arms drop to his sides. “So, I’m not one touch away from—”
“Wrenora!” Magdala rushed into the prince’s study, ignoring that she’d interrupted his Royal Broodiness. “I was so worried when His Highness brought you back. You were so cold, so pale.”
Her hands were soft as they touched my forehead, then my cheek, before she yanked me into her arms. Behind her, Prince Callan stood with wide eyes, as shocked as I was at the way she’d squeezed me. She finally pulled back and held me at arm’s length.
“Thank the Gods he had the sense to wrap you in his cloak.” Her eyes turned toward him, narrowing in anger. “The cold doesn’t affect him like it affects us.”
Us? She lumped me with her, like I was just another elf. Or maybe she meant woman, or commoner.
Something must have happened between the time I’d been sent from the Ice Fortress and now for her to be so comfortable, so...familiar with me. It was like a switch had been flipped. I was no longer just a thrall. I had become a person, and I wasn’t sure I liked it.
Prince Callan glared at Magdala from the corner of his eye. “You act like I’m completely incompetent when it comes to the ways of humans.”
Magdala’s only response was a sharp glare.
The world spun as a wave of dizziness slammed into me. I must have listed to the side, because Magdala reached to steady me by my shoulders.
“Careful now.” Her voice was so soft. “You should rest.”
She pulled at the blanket to tuck it around me, but I pushed it away. It smelled like him, and I hated that all I wanted was to curl back up into that scent.
“I’ll be fine.” I squeezed my eyes closed before refocusing. I looked from her to Prince Callan and back, trying to put all the pieces together, but my mind felt like mush. I squeezed the bridge of my nose.
“Perhaps sleep would be wise,” Magdala said. “I can ready a roo—”
“She’ll remain here.”
My attention snapped to Prince Callan. He was glaring at Magdala, some silent exchange passing between them. I wish I could have been a part of that conversation, to know why the prince was insisting I stay in his study—a place he’d told me I was never to return to.
“She needs a place to rest where you won’t be hovering, Highness.”
Thank the Gods Magdala understood the need for a woman to have privacy. However, Prince Callan’s immediate folding of his arms wasn’t a good sign. I had a feeling he wasn’t going to concede. At least, not easily.
Fynn hopped back up onto the sofa and stretched out over my legs to claim me. I couldn’t help but let my fingers ease into his fur as he purred. When I glanced back up at Prince Callan, I found a strange expression on his face that wasn’t quite jealousy.
“Perhaps a bedchamber near mine would be—”
“She’ll remain here.”
“Or I can find her space in my own—”
“Here, Magdala. She’ll remain here. In this room. Behind the ward. Where I can guarantee her...” He glanced at me, thinking better of what he was about to say.
For several seconds he stared, perfectly rigid. All I wanted was to be a part of those thoughts in that moment. Finally, he threw up his hands and turned away in frustration.
“Highness...” Magdala reached for the prince’s arm but he yanked it away, his eyes stabbing into her with visceral anger.
“Whatever the fuck you wish then, Magdala, but I need her to be—”
“She’ll be endlessly available to work with you on imbuing. That was why you brought her back, was it not?”