Chapter 56
Emrys
Smoke drifted in ribbons up from the houses behind Tir Gelida’s outer palisade.
Beyond those stood a series of stone-hearted towers that had been stripped of all their ancient vanity.
Their only nod to the fact that the royal family lived within was the deep blue and silver banners decorating the roof.
My fingers tightened on the hilt of my sword. I’d imagined this moment in a hundred ways on the ride here, but none of them had looked like this. Too quiet.
Behind me, my captive was tied to his horse, still breathing. As far as I was concerned, he was now returned to his people. Inflectionless, I said, “You’re free to go. Act against me or mine again, and I’ll kill you slowly.”
They could free him from his bindings or let him rot. I didn’t care. He trotted off without another word.
I met no resistance as I forced the towering gates open with a push of magic.
The city within the walls was subdued, with day barely broken.
There were only a few scattered people on the streets.
Several pairs of eyes peeked from windows but didn’t come out.
It almost seemed like the city had been cleared for my arrival.
I cracked my neck as the beast scratched at its human cage, pushing me in the direction of the tallest tower.
Isca. It had been little more than a day since she’d been taken, but it felt like an eternity.
The thread between us stretched taut, her presence pulling at me long before I saw the soldiers watching me from the inner ramparts.
I expected arrows, spells, some form of resistance to rain down on me. But the inner gates opened, this time without me needing to push. The frozen guardsmen only stared down. Dread washed over me, not for my own safety, but because of what I might discover.
As I led my stolen horse through the gate, my right hand gripped the familiar weight of my sword, and a surge of power thrummed ready in my left where I held the reins. The first rays of sunlight peeked over the horizon, illuminating row after row of steel-clad men lining the main avenue beyond.
Finally, the fight.
My sword arm rose at the shout that split the tense quiet.
Yet, it wasn’t the roar of charge I’d been bracing myself to hear.
Each soldier relaxed his ax or spear and moved to stand at parade rest. The booming voice that had directed them moved closer—a heavyset, grizzled man with a war-ax strapped to his back.
His expression was wary, eyes scanning, but he gave no sign of hostility.
His hand didn’t even flinch toward his axe.
“Prince Stormdan, you are expected,” he said, voice carrying along the street. Then lower, “Her Highness and your lady await you in the great hall. Any resistance you meet is not from Her Highness’s forces. Proceed with royal blessings.”
I didn’t dare acknowledge his statement aloud, afraid of what I would do if he spoke again—I was coiled, ready to snap.
He held my gaze for two rapid heartbeats, his eyes conveying a desperate need to prove his sincerity so his men might live. This man was brave, and far from stupid. He looked away before I did.
When his eyes dropped, the beast stopped pushing for aggression, flaring in confusion. It didn’t know what to make of this, and neither did I. No fight. Just another open door. The tension within me was turning to wariness as the cobblestone path that led to her stretched before me.
Was this what Cadoc had hinted at? Was I walking into a trap? Or could I truly be witnessing the princess’s influence at play? I almost feared hoping.
I rode ahead slowly, uncertain, scanning every shadow for movement, senses reaching for any sign of magic.
As I trotted on, more people watched from windows but didn’t come out.
The longer the silence lasted, the more the rage in my blood dwindled.
The monster, always clawing, always hungry, had also quieted.
Because it was…afraid. It had never been afraid. It had never been uncomfortable. But she’d changed everything.
I dismounted at the castle steps, passing the reins to a young servant, who bowed and fled before I could speak. Before me, a third set of doors stood open.
Still no arrows, fire, or swords...
I didn’t sheath my weapon. I simply walked forward as the curse pulled me, willing, deeper into the fortress. Each step felt lighter than the last, buoyed by the promise that she was close.
Flecks of dried blood slid off my armor as I walked down the stone-lined corridor. In a twisted way, Gelida’s blood was returned to her. The great hall rose ahead of me.
I stepped into the chamber. It was smaller than Darreth’s, more austere. The looming space was stark and cold, built of rough-hewn stone and lit only by a few torches set in iron sconces. At the heart of it all was a raised dais where a figure waited on the steel throne.
Princess Anwen.
I hadn’t seen her since we were children, but her pale eyes and brown hair were as unmistakable now as they’d been then. She sat alone, hands folded neatly, expression unreadable, without a guard in sight.
A thread of magic, familiar and warm as a perfect summer evening, lingered here. Soft and welcoming, like lavender. It brushed against the raw edges of my soul and attempted to soothe the thing inside me that never slept—but today it wouldn’t be caged.
I came seeking only one thing, and she wasn’t here. The stone under my feet shook, and the heavy rafters above groaned with my renewed fury. My voice became a growl made thunder by the curse surging through my veins. “Where is she?”
The room shook again, and Anwen flinched. But her gaze held a silent defiance. With her eyes fixed on something behind me, she flicked her raised chin in that direction.
I didn’t take my eyes off the cold princess until the invisible tether linking me to Isca snapped tight. A door creaked, and my heart started racing as the curse took a deep breath, readying itself for battle.
Two guards entered, holding the door for a figure clad in crimson and gold.
For the first time since her loss, the curse stilled, ready to pounce but frozen by the sight. I’d expected it to force an attack. To grab her and run. To do anything but what it did. It breathed her in like it hadn’t thought to live since she’d disappeared. I felt myself doing the same thing.
Isca wasn’t in chains. She wasn’t carried or dragged; she walked in front of the guards, head held high. She was clean, hair in her normal crown, wearing the colors of my house, of fire and sovereignty.
Her eyes locked on mine. The emotion in them, the unshed tears, nearly made me drop to my knees. My chest split open with relief so sudden it staggered me.
Mine.
This was more than my hope; this was my dream made flesh. She was whole. She was more than worth the price I would need to pay for the sins I’d committed to reach this moment.
But the curse didn’t understand mercy or peace. It saw the bruises on her wrists and decided to raze this place to the ground for daring to take her. A primal howl echoed within me, pushing me to act.
“Emrys.” Isca’s voice sliced clean through the rising madness. A single tear trailed down her face. “You’re here. I’m sorry. I-I tried…to…”
My fingers twitched with the beginnings of a spell that would bury this castle under its own weight. I could steal her away. Carry her into the mountains, the woods. Anywhere far from this cold, treacherous stone.
“Emrys, stop!” She must’ve sensed what I was doing.
And then she was moving.
The guards stepped aside as she brushed past them without hesitation and flung herself into my arms.
The metallic clang of my sword echoed as I dropped it, reaching out to catch her. I lifted her, and her body folded into mine like she was meant to be there. The curse shuddered, stunned back into silence by being given exactly what it wanted.
The entire world disappeared except for the beating of her heart and the soft flutter of her cries against my neck.
I pulled back, tilting her chin up. I had to see her face. Had to look into her eyes to know she was okay. Her chin quivered and her eyes were puffy, but I’d never seen anything so lovely in my life.
A more suspicious man might’ve searched for deception there after seeing a kidnapped woman walk so freely, but I knew Isca.
The woman who saw past my scars, past my growling, who thought I could be a better man, was alive. Safe.
I kissed her. It was a desperate thing. But I was a man who’d lost half his soul and somehow found it again.
When I set her down, it was only because my world had been returned. That recognition came with the renewed awareness of the other woman still watching from the dais.
Anwen’s voice was dry with amusement. “Glad my intelligence was correct about…that.”
Isca reached for my hand, even though it was still covered in traces of the violence that had brought me here. So my temper was banked, but I felt the curse flare in my eyes when I met the princess’s gaze again.
“Speak now, Anwen,” I said, voice low and lethal, “while my patience holds.”
The curse growled. I growled. The sound echoed off the walls like a rising storm.
I felt a small squeeze on my hand and heard Isca’s quiet sigh. Barely audible, her voice cut through my fury yet again. “Oh, Emrys.”
That phrase, that particular mildly exasperated tone, was how I knew she was truly all right. That she was still her.
I gently squeezed her hand in return, letting her know with the simple gesture that I would bend. I would kneel. But only for her.
And as she leaned into me, whispering the words that would change everything, I knew that getting her back had only been the beginning. “Princess Anwen stole me, saved me from Maelric’s men. But there’s more… The Assembly is playing us all, Emrys.”