Chapter Fifteen Lore
FIFTEEN
Lore
FALSE brAVADO WAS not doing me any favors in this instance.
I absolutely did not shield against the prince’s next mental seduction.
Or the one that followed directly after.
We spent the next two hours locked in one mental skirmish after another. I suspected it was way more exhausting for me, but I didn’t give up.
No matter how hard I tried to bluster my way through this experiment, I failed.
After our first encounter, the prince didn’t appear tired in the slightest.
It made me want to leap across the bed and strangle him.
And if straddling him with the intent to kill didn’t pose a risk of me transporting us to a more volatile type of story, I would have done just that.
Instead of attempting to murder an immortal, I focused on my shield, giving it my all. I poured my whole soul into it. And it wasn’t enough.
Sloth continued to easily batter my defenses, seeming no more affected than someone casually swatting away a fly.
Meanwhile I kept gasping for breath, my mind and body both growing more limp with every failed attempt to keep him out.
He was persistent and infinitely patient.
Victory wouldn’t be handed to me; he’d make me earn it.
No matter how often I silently cursed him, he never held himself back, using the full might of his power each time.
It reminded me of a waterfall located high in the mountains of Bellington. The water cascaded down the cliffs with punishing force, a force that became even more dangerous in the spring when the snow and ice melted and joined the already raging waters in the pool located below.
When I was younger, I used to hike up to the grassy knoll located at the bottom of the falls during the summer to read, enjoying the cool mist that blew over me, banishing the heat.
Not once had I ever attempted to enter the water. I valued my life too much for that.
Now I felt like I was trying to swim up those cursed falls and kept getting knocked down and drowned every time.
Whenever I opened my eyes, the prince would nod in encouragement and say, “Again.”
I’d never despised and appreciated someone more.
Maybe this was the start of my villain origin story.
I was frustrated. And under that, afraid. I hadn’t admitted it to the prince, but something odd did happen when we left the cave and entered the tavern.
I had the most horrendous vision. It had almost felt like a memory, but it wasn’t mine. I had no doubt the book had made me see what it wanted. And it was cruelty and horror and terror. Humans drowned in their own tears. Others were torn apart by all kinds of nightmare creatures.
I needed to shield myself from the evil book. If only to never see those images of death again.
And that wouldn’t be possible if I couldn’t master holding my wall in place.
The prince made it seem so effortless, as natural as breathing, but I failed to maintain it whenever he switched tactics.
We tried again.
And again.
Each time I lasted a little longer, until he changed his method of attack, and his magic overwhelmed mine again.
Sometimes his magic was a whisper, a tantalizing caress, other times it was like a tidal wave. One minute we’d be mentally dancing and the next we were brawling before he’d magically pin my barrier down and I’d tap out.
Every time I thought I’d mastered one move, he’d come at me with another.
He’d just sent the equivalent of a mental tsunami at me.
I slapped my palms against the mattress, fighting the urge to cry.
Tears wouldn’t keep the Liber Noctem out of my head, and I already felt bad enough, so I shoved the urge down, wrapped heavy chains around it, secured it with a lock and silently screamed into the abyss.
“That’s enough.”
Lord Stoic was back, his gaze as cool and calculating as ever as it roamed across my face.
“Eat.”
He pushed a covered tray of food at me.
I hadn’t even noticed it had been delivered.
When I stared at it blankly, he yanked the cover off and set the tray on my lap, then grabbed a second tray and tucked into it.
After a few bites, he paused.
“Eat, Lore.”
Finally, a bit of my fire returned.
“Your manners truly are exceptional, Your Highness. Did they teach you that when you attended royal pain in the ass academy?”
He glowered at me but said nothing.
I accepted the food because it smelled delicious, and I was starving.
Thick beef stew, freshly baked bread smothered in herbed butter, and a cold lager to wash it down with.
But his commanding attitude wasn’t something I’d accept now or ever. I might choose to be cheerful and positive, but that didn’t mean I was a doormat.
“Are you married?” I asked.
He looked me over before answering, a slight crease in his brow.
“No.”
“Courting someone?”
“Not recently.”
I flashed him a knowing grin. “Unsurprising.”
His jaw tensed and I got the impression he was trying very hard to not ask the question I could see churning in the depths of those blue eyes.
One point to me. I took a bite of my food to hide my smile.
I’d realized one thing about him; he did not like questions without answers.
He would not be able to let it go, and I suspected it somehow played into how his sin worked.
From the corner of my eye, I saw him trying to piece together his own conclusion, but that would only be a guess.
He needed facts.
I gave him all of five seconds before he caved.
Five. Four. Three…
“Why isn’t that surprising?”
I took another mouthful of stew, enjoying the savory flavor and the way the delay made him squirm. Who knew I had a sadistic side?
The sociopath truly brought out the best in me.
I made him suffer for another moment before putting him out of his misery. I was a merciful sadist.
“No one likes to be bossed around outside of the bedroom. Therefore, I’m not surprised you’re unattached. While you clearly operate best by using your head over your heart, you lack the simple logic of catching more flies with honey.”
He stilled.
I felt his attention shift to me—all his attention.
Holy gods.
Having the entire force of his focus directed at me was almost powerful enough to knock me over, but I pretended to not notice.
“Perhaps you ought to practice saying please,” I added. “You might be surprised with the results. Maybe you’ll even make a friend.”
I kept shoveling food into my mouth and sipping my beer, completely relaxed despite the apex predator studying me with the intensity of a thousand burning suns.
I’m sure I was breaking all sorts of royal protocol, but I didn’t care.
I was doing my best under the worst circumstances, and I didn’t need to be treated like one of his royal hounds.
“You’re right. Dealing with emotions is not my area of expertise.” He exhaled. “I apologize for offending you. You didn’t want to cry, so I attempted to divert your attention. My delivery could use some refinement. I will work on adjusting my methods so they’re more agreeable in the future.”
I dropped my spoon in my empty bowl and swiveled to face him.
“How did you know I was close to tears?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. Apparently, that wasn’t a secret he’d meant to share. “Because I sensed your emotions.”
I took a long sip of my lager, needing time to let that sink in.
He collected our empty dishes and returned them to the tray, stacking everything in an orderly pile before sliding it across the floor.
He could sense emotions. At first that didn’t seem so bad, then I started running a mental tally of everything I’d felt over the last two days and halted.
Dear gods.
“Like magic?”
He shook his head. “It’s similar to other senses like taste and smell.”
“You can sense all emotions?”
He scanned my face, the beginnings of a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth before he banished it.
I had a feeling the bastard knew exactly what I was asking.
“Yes. Fear. Sadness. Elation. Desire. Anything you feel, I sense. I don’t always know the root cause, but sometimes I can accurately guess based on other factors.” He hesitated. “I also know when you lie.”
“That’s… wonderful.”
So those rumors were true. I’d really hoped they weren’t.
A glimmer of hope sparked.
“If my mental shield improves, will that help?”
He shook his head, eyes glinting with the mirth he’d been suppressing.
“Not with emotions, especially ones that are more heightened than others.”
He didn’t have to elaborate on what kind of emotions were stronger. I could add two and two together on my own like a mathematical prodigy.
Passion. Desire. Hate. Things my book-addled brain excelled in.
Maybe I should let the Liber Noctem come swallow me whole to put me out of my misery.
I blew out a breath and set my empty lager glass aside.
Time to master my shield and stop thinking of my favorite romance tropes.
I had a sinking suspicion that might prove more difficult than beating the Book of Nightmares but put on a brave face and tried anyway.
Finally, when dawn broke and its candy-colored shades of tangerine and pink shattered the darkness of night, I managed to keep my mental barrier in place.
I flopped onto my back, staring at the ceiling.
I was completely and utterly spent but also buzzed with energy.
Even after all the training, it was still hard to wrap my mind around the fact that I was a dreamweaver and had magic.
I wanted to tell my parents and Fable all about it.
Some of my elation dulled. I needed to get back to them. With so much at stake, I couldn’t stop the twinge of doubt that crept in.
Had I really done enough to enforce my shield?
Would I really be able to win the Trials and face my fears? I still didn’t know why my fears were being tested. Shouldn’t the cursed Goddess of Night be the one proving herself worthy of her magic?
I was just a book lover from a small village who had terrible luck, apparently. Maybe this was a test—facing my fears of inadequacy.
I felt a prickle of awareness and flicked my attention to Sloth.
His focus was already fixed to me in a quiet assessment that seemed to peel back layers and delve into the very soul of my being.