Chapter 2
Cruel Joke
Pharis
I strode down the hallway of the family wing, yelling for Elanor.
She was somewhere here in my castle, and at the moment, she was also on my bad side.
She must have been nearby because I heard her mental response.
On my way, My Prince. What is it? Are you hurt?
It’s Raewyn, I said. She needs you. You told me she was healed.
I loved the woman like a second mother, but she hadn’t done her job well enough. Raewyn was still suffering.
I told you I did my best for her, Elanor answered after a moment. I’m almost there.
My body was shaking all over, and my heart felt as if it weighed hundreds of pounds.
I hadn’t felt like this since the night I’d arrived here at Stormcrest to learn that Raewyn had been grievously injured by the dragon’s talons.
Technically, my plan had worked—my sister had been wrong when she’d said, “no one can control dragons.”
Using the combined siphoned glamours from my family, I’d done it. The beast had followed my orders and delivered Raewyn here after plucking her from the arena.
But it was still a wild, powerful creature. Nothing in it knew how to be gentle.
Like me.
Every day since then, I’d mentally scourged myself over the riskiness of my plan. Honestly, with so little time to work on it, I’d been unable to come up with a better one.
My hope had been that Stellon would agree to help me overthrow our father that night. We could have halted the execution, and then he could have ruled Avrandar, making it a better place for everyone.
But my brother had been too cowardly to attempt the mutiny, electing instead to preserve his own skin, to give up and just let Raewyn die.
I didn’t have that in me. So I’d had to improvise.
Simply freeing her from the dungeon and whisking her away would only have resulted in the both of us being hunted by the King for eternity.
It had been imperative for the entire kingdom to assume Raewyn was dead.
It had also been necessary to have everyone together in close proximity so I could glean their glamours simultaneously.
Though I’d hoped it would be the case, I wasn’t entirely sure King Pontus would die in the dragon attack.
The threat from him was now removed, but the Earthwives were still out there somewhere, waiting to exact their price for the bargain Raewyn had reneged on by not assassinating my entire family.
It was best if everyone—especially Stellon—believed that neither of us had survived execution day.
And Raewyn almost hadn’t.
Day after day, night after night, I’d sat at her bedside, willing her to live, longing for the day she’d wake and I could tell her the truth.
It hurt that she’d bought my act so thoroughly, so easily convinced I’d never cared for her. That everything we’d shared together during our weeks on the road had been a lie.
When my father’s troops had found us in Havendor and surrounded us, I’d tried to tell her mind-to-mind of my true intentions. I remembered the harrowing moment with crystal clear recall.
I’m going to protect you, no matter what it takes, I had told her. Trust me. I will get you out of this—somehow.
But untrained in her Elven abilities, Raewyn apparently hadn’t heard my silent promises.
Again, on the road back to Merisola, I’d tried to speak to her nonverbally, riding beside the prison cart and assuring her mind-to-mind that I was only doing what I had to do to keep her safe, that I’d never let harm come to her.
Maybe it was for the best that she hadn’t been able to hear me.
Maybe it was best if she believed the worst of me now.
Because harm had come to her.
My mother had died because of me, and the same had nearly happened to Raewyn.
The matchmaking glamour’s revelation had been a cruel joke.
What good was it to find your perfect match when you were destined to hurt the people you loved?
I probably should have directed the dragon to take Raewyn as far away from me as possible. The problem was, the only way I could be sure she was safe was to keep her near—no matter how much it tormented me.
Elanor reached the top of the stairs and hurried down the hall toward me.
“What is the problem?” she asked. “Is she bleeding again? Hemorrhaging?”
“She’s still in pain,” I growled at her. “She’s covered in bruises and scars.”
The old healer gave me a sympathetic look. “I know it’s hard to see, but that’s normal at this stage. They will fade in time. So will the pain.”
“Take it away—now,” I ordered.
Elanor looked like she might be about to scold me for my bad manners as she had long ago when I was half her size. Now I was more powerful in every way, and as she was living under my roof, I was her lord.
“Of course, My Prince,” she said at last. “I will do what I can.”
She paused before going to Raewyn’s room. “Have you spoken with her?”
“A bit. Her fiery spirit is still intact at least. She hates me.”
“You should tell her,” Elanor said. “She should know you hardly left her bedside for the past three months. And it did not escape my attention that you had a jar full of—”
“No,” I interrupted. “She should definitely not know, and you will not tell her, nor will anyone else in this house. Is that clear?”
The healer looked disappointed. “Perfectly, My Prince. We know better than to break our vows of secrecy. What do you intend to do with her then?”
“I’m not sure. My plan didn’t extend beyond getting her out of there. The only thing I’m certain of is that I’m not letting my stupid brother get his hands on her again.”
The wrinkle between Elanor’s eyebrows deepened. “You can’t hide her away forever, you know.”
“It won’t have to be forever,” I said. “Only until Stellon chooses a bride—and is good and bonded to her.”