24. CHAPTER 24
Sorin
Ineeded to find Enora before Aveline did.
I knew that using Enora as a diversion to buy me more time with King Eldrin and his daughter, the Princess Morwenna, had been a risk—but it had worked. The castle was buzzing with rumors of a Myrosian spy in our midst, the royal wedding completely forgotten.
For the time being, anyway.
Enora was a friend to Aveline, and I needed to find her and release her before Aveline found out what had happened. That the entire thing had been my doing.
Enora would certainly tell her. Perhaps her wrath would be assuaged by the fact that I had freed her, too. I hadn’t yet told Father or Queen Odessa about Aveline’s presence—I had only told them about Enora. She, too, was from Myros. We had no plans of using her, making her the perfect deflection.
King Mavros and Emrys had been questioning her for the last week, to no avail.
She wasn’t a spy, and therefore, there was no information to glean from her.
True, she was innocent, but a mere week in the Gothryn prisons was a small price to pay to buy me more time.
To figure out what I was going to do about Morwenna. No harm had come to Enora.
She wasn’t being treated harshly. I made sure of it.
I took the back staircase down to the dungeons, avoiding the main thoroughfare of the castle as preparations for the ball ensued.
With any luck, Enora’s name would already have been cleared as I returned to castle Stormgaard, and she could join in tonight’s festivities with everyone none the wiser of her ‘capture.’
I passed the guard at the heavy wooden door with a nod. He stepped out of my way as I descended further into the darkness. The packed dirt floor leaned a musty, damp smell to the entire corridor as I pressed forward toward the furthest cell.
I came to a stop before it as I fished for the keys in my pocket. Enora sat at the back of the cell; dirt smeared across her cheek from a week without a proper bath. Her vibrant white hair was coated in dust to the point where she almost appeared blonde.
“Come to free me, Prince?” she asked, voice mocking.
“I have, in fact,” I replied, fitting the key into the lock and listening for the click.
She inclined her head, studying me.
I opened the cell, but Enora remained perched against the back wall. Her knee was bent, her arm draped across it as she fidgeted with the laces on her boot.
“Where is Aveline?” she asked, not bothering to glance up.
A long moment passed as I waited for her to realize the door was open.
“Upstairs.”
She scoffed. “I’m not stupid, Prince.”
I cleared my throat. “I never said you were.”
She finally cast her gaze upon me, her bright blue eyes angry enough to sear straight through me.
“I am not the only fae down here. We have been talking. The guards have big mouths, you know. You put me in here yourself. For your own gain. You needed more time before you married the princess. But there is something that I know that you do not. Something that could change everything.”
My face fell. “What are you talking about?”
“You know that I am Noor’s apprentice?” she asked, toying with a golden charm laced through the string between her fingers.
I nodded. “The historian, yes. What of it?”
Enora laughed, the musical lilt filling the corridor with an eerie echo. “You should have come to see me sooner. She isn’t merely a historian. You should know that.”
I did know that. She was the castle gossip, and a skilled charm maker. She knew our histories better than anyone in Gothryn. I failed to see the point Enora was trying to make, so I waited.
Enora laughed again, her head falling back against the stone wall. “You have no idea, do you?”
“No idea about what?” I asked, confused. “We need to prepare for tonight’s festivities. It would be in both of our best interests to return to our rooms to prepare.” I stepped out of the doorway to allow her to exit, but she remained where she was.
Silence filled the space between us.
“There was something Noor and I discussed. Something I thought might be of interest to you. Only…you never came to see me. The only royals to visit me have been Prince Emrys and King Mavros.”
I shook my head, patience wearing thin. “What are you on about? What piece of information?”
Enora stood, sauntering toward the front of the cell. There was an ethereal quality to the way her skin shimmered despite the lack of natural light in the dungeons. She stopped when she was a mere foot away from me. She inclined her head, analyzing me.
“How is your wound, Prince?”
I reeled back as if slapped.
How could she possibly know about the curse? Only my brothers and Rensford knew. Azhar, and the mage who cursed me. Only five people in this entire realm.
I was breathing hard, chest rising and falling as I held her gaze and panic made the slow climb up my throat to choke me.
Was this the very same mage who stood before me now? Had she changed her form to come here and taunt me? I shook my head, hand pressing to the wound at my side.
She had crossed the Saltale Sea with Aveline. They were friends. They had known each other all their lives. She couldn’t be the mage.
So how did she know? It didn’t make any sense.
When the wound in my side didn’t pulse beneath my touch, I pulled at my tunic, releasing it from beneath my belt to ruck it up. The wound was still there, but it had changed since I had last seen it.
It had begun to close.
It was scabbing over.
For the first time in decades.
I took another step back, mind racing. “Who are you?” My eyes narrowed at her; accusation clear in my gaze.
She smiled, taking a step toward me and over the threshold of the cell. She nodded toward my side. “I see you have begun to heal. Faster than I imagined, too.”
“What is the meaning of this? Are you in league with the mage who cursed me?” My voice was angry. I was practically shouting at her.
Enora was a perfect stranger to me, but I was rattled. I had kept this a secret for a reason. A weak prince would never be allowed to ascend the throne.
She shook her head. “No, not in league with any mage. I merely have access to a lot of information. Sensitive information. If you thought that you had kept the curse a well-hidden secret, you are mistaken.”
“But how—how did you know?” I asked, pulling my shirt back down over the wound.
“Noor.” She replied simply. “I said your brother and father were the only royals who came to visit me, not that they were the only ones entirely.”
I shouldn’t have been surprised that Noor might have known about this. But if she was sitting on this information—the whole castle would have found out about it by now.
What was truly going on here?
Enora shook her head. “I can see your mind reeling, but you are asking yourself the wrong questions.”
I scoffed. “And what questions should I be asking, witch?”
“Not a witch,” she reminded me. “Merely a historian, like my mentor. But there is a reason Noor shared this with me and only me.”
“I don’t—I don’t understand.” The words stuttered out of me.
Enora pressed her lips together. “My, you are a pretty prince. But rather dimwitted, if you ask me.”
Anger surged forth, simmering right beneath the surface. I could taste smoke and ash on my tongue, my wings begging to be set free from my back. The space was too small to accommodate it, and I swallowed back my fury as I pressed my eyes tightly closed.
Gone was the timid fae who had shown fear before me weeks ago. This piece of information she was holding over me had emboldened her.
“What the hell are you talking about?” My eyes snapped back open. “Speak plainly, or I will shove you right back into that cell and forget all about you.”
Enora tutted at me, shaking her head back and forth. “Now, now. Aveline wouldn’t like that. No…not at all.”
I stepped toward her, towering over her as heat radiated off my body. “And why would I care what Aveline thinks?”
Enora’s expression turned smug. “Don’t you? Haven’t you cared about her since the moment you met? Since the moment you first saw her? Haven’t you felt…drawn to her?”
All of that was true. It still didn’t explain what the hell she was talking about. I remained silent, waiting for an explanation that made any sense at all. Enora began speaking slowly, as if she needed to spell it out for me.
“Noor told me about your curse, and how you bore a wound in your side that would not heal. She also told me that she is close friends with Azhar, the palace healer. Azhar is your personal physician, is he not?”
“He is,” I replied, frustration barely caged beneath a thin layer of composure.
“Well, Azhar reported that your wound had initially begun to degrade even further these last few weeks. That it had spread far enough to now wrap around your back and spread up your arm. He also told Noor that in the last week since you returned from Stormgaard, it had begun to heal. That it appeared better than he had seen in decades. Maybe even since its inception.”
I didn’t believe for one instance that the leak had come from Azhar. I trusted him implicitly.
“And?”
“And then, this last week, despite finally scabbing over it festered once more. When King Eldrin and Princess Morwenna arrived at castle Gothryn and you were called back from Stormgaard.”
Gods above there really was a rumor mill at this castle.
She had only been here a few weeks and she was already privy to the comings and goings of the royals. It didn’t help that she was working directly beneath Noor, who had eyes on the back of her head. I would be having a stern conversation with Noor, of that I was certain.
I spoke through gritted teeth. “What is your point?”
“My point is that your wound was healing, then it began to rot. All within days of each other.”
“What of it!” I yelled, what little patience I had been holding on to disappearing as if it had only been a single thread…and it snapped.
She did not back away or cower.
“What of it? Gods above I really do need to spell it out for you, don’t I? Noor told me there was one and only one way in which your curse would be cured.”