Chapter 8 #4
My attention lingers on the interlocking rings and gears. “So once I’m in the forest, I’ll be able to…what? Use this thing to transport myself? Can I use it to go home?”
Amriel’s lips curve into a joyless smile before returning to their natural, down-turned configuration. “No. It can only bring you a short distance. Back here to the castle, in other words. Then from here to the Wildwood again, where you’ll pick up where you left off.”
I frown. “That’s it? What’s the point, then?”
“It’ll allow you to take a break. Maybe even escape a dangerous situation, if you’re judicious.” He drums his fingertips against the desk. “And the hourglass’s sands should only fall when you’re in the forest.”
I digest that. “So I’ll be able to pause, essentially? Without using up my time?”
“That’s the idea.”
I nod and reach for the gyre. But Amriel’s hand snakes in, catching at my wrist, stilling it mid-air.
I freeze. Heat bites into me with cruel teeth, igniting from the place where his skin touches mine.
Fiery sensations pulse through me, like memories lived in real time—flashes of yellow eyes and golden skin.
Of warm, hard muscle shifting beneath my fingertips.
Of silky white hair, dragged across the bare skin of my ribcage.
“Fuck,” Amriel hisses, shaking off my touch. He jerks back, curling his arm against his chest, glaring at me as if I’ve personally assaulted him. As if I’ve somehow planted those images in our heads myself.
I return his stare, rattled to my core. “What was that?” I manage, horror thick in my voice.
He sucks in a breath to answer, then changes tack and guzzles some wine. Like he’s desperate to drown whatever just happened.
“The mate bond,” he says, when he finally swallows. “Doing its awful work.”
I shake my head. The images have gone now, vanished along with his touch, but their imprint still lingers, like the tingle left over after a burn. “That was…”
“Unpleasant,” he bites out.
“Yes.” I gulp around nothing, then cross my legs, hoping to silence the foreign tingle between them. “Unpleasant. Extremely…unpleasant. But I don’t understand. That’s never happened with the Shadow.”
Amriel’s mouth flattens to a grim line. “It will, given some time. You’ll see…flashes, sometimes. Of his feelings, his thoughts, his—”
“His thoughts?” My tone veers upward. “But those weren’t anyone’s thoughts, just now. Not yours, and definitely not mine.”
“Let me finish, Princess.” Disdain drips from the word. “You’ll see possibilities. Snatches of a future that could be. All right?”
I sink back. “Oh. Okay. I see.”
“So don’t touch him, if you can help it. Don’t touch me, either.”
A soft hiss escapes me. “I didn’t. You’re the one who touched me.”
His eyes go colder than a winter sun. “Yes, well. It’s a mistake I won’t make again.”
Silences piles between us, fermenting into something painful.
“Anyway.” Amriel clears his throat, his focus falling to the desk. “You shouldn’t touch the gyre, either, unless you intend to use it. You only have to think of being elsewhere, and it’ll transport you.”
I nod stiffly. It’s a good thing he stopped me, because I’ve thought about being elsewhere since the moment I first set foot in Velindra. In touching the gyre, I might have accidentally activated it and wasted a trip to the Wildwood.
I clear my throat, recentering myself. “Fine. And this? What does it do?” I point at the orb.
Amriel pushes up his sleeves and reaches for it, his forearms flexing. Which is…a very strange thing for me to have noticed. “This’ll show you the hourglass from afar. At any point, you can see how far the sands have fallen. See how much time you have left.”
“And I’m supposed to wear that thing on my wrist?”
“Yes. But that isn’t its only purpose. If you turn the orb the other way, it becomes a communication device.” His long fingers spin the sphere within its woven net. “Wear it like this, and we’ll be able to see each other. Talk to each other, even.”
My nose crinkles. “Talk to each other? Why would I want to talk?”
“Because. I do have a vested interest in your success.” His gaze lifts, connecting with mine, driving the breath from me all over again. “I may be the villain, Princess, but I’ll do what I can to help you. To get you to that hourglass alive.”
I huff out a half-baked laugh. Of course. Because he’s using me. Because he needs me to break his curse. To put a stop to his never-ending agony.
At the reminder, I sit back and take him in—the loose set of his shoulders, the downward slant of his mouth, the way he fills his chair as if he was born to lord over his kingdom from this room. Is he in agony at this very moment? He doesn’t look it. He looks bored and cruel and eternal.
But he probably wouldn’t let his weaknesses show, and I suppose I have no real way to know what anyone else feels.
I shake away the question. “All right. And this?” I tap the desk beside the vial.
“Sustenance. Take a tiny sip, and it’ll satisfy your hunger and thirst for an entire day. Meaning you won’t have to waste time finding food out there. Or water.”
I nod, heartened by the fact that these objects exist. Maybe, with these at my disposal, the labyrinth won’t be so bad.
“Thanks,” I say simply.
Amriel grunts his acknowledgment, but since our accidental touch, something in him has iced over. His expression is as welcoming as a locked door, the silence between us brittle.
My fingers twine around my lunch sack. One last question dances on my tongue, but I don’t know how to ask it. “Your…Shadow. He’s out there right now, isn’t he? In the forest?”
“Yes. Every morning, he starts at the hourglass. And every day, he hunts. For as long as the sun is up. At night, he comes back here.”
I nod along. “What does he hunt, exactly? During the day?”
Amriel’s eyelids flicker. “You.”
“Oh. But…” My voice withers and dies. A few thunderous heartbeats pass before I find it again. “What happens if he finds me?”
Amriel pins me with a look. “He’ll destroy you, in every way he can. He’s not himself, during the day. He has no awareness of anything but the chase. So do not let him catch you, whatever you do.”
A shudder tears through me, returning me to the moment just before the Shadow leapt from my window. He looked so regretful. So worried about what he might do.
Now I understand why.
“All right. When do I start, then?” I force the question through a parched throat. “When do I go into the Wildwood?”
“Whenever you want. Today, if you like.”
I absorb that with a frown. “But the Shadow told me to stay out of the forest.”
He snorts. “Because he’s overprotective. But if you’re going to run the labyrinth, you’ll have to be in there during the day. Nighttime won’t be enough. Not even three nights will be enough.”
He says it so carelessly. So matter-of-factly. As if the risk to my safety means nothing to him.
Which it doesn’t, I guess.
Yet if the labyrinth takes days to complete, then he has a point. Daytime, nighttime—I’ll have to find a way to survive both. And I don’t want to spend a moment longer here than necessary.
Might as well get started, and I nod in grudging agreement.
Amriel’s gaze travels over me, its touch frosty. “Though you should probably change your clothes, first. There should be something more…practical…in your room. In the dresser.”
I recall the hideous leather outfits I rejected this morning. Their existence makes slightly more sense now, but… “I can’t wear those. No self-respecting Aethrolian would be caught dead in something so revealing.”
Silence. When I brave a glance, Amriel surveys me with something like disgust. “You’d rather die in that ridiculous dress, then?”
“I’d rather not die at all,” I snap. “But if it’s going to happen, then yes. I’ll do it in my dress, thanks.”
His mouth twists. “Fine.” Without another word, he pushes himself from the desk and turns to the apothecary cabinet, selecting a small leather satchel from one of the cubbyholes.
His shoulders bunch, muscles flexing beneath black silk.
I track each movement before catching myself with a start. Why am I even looking?
I’m not, I decide. I haven’t. I won’t.
Amriel tucks the orb into the satchel, followed by the golden vial. The gyre goes in next before he gestures for me to hand over my lunch sack.
I do. He stuffs that in, too, which completes his preparations before he cinches the satchel shut and holds it out. When I take it, our fingers don’t touch, but the air between us crackles with volatility.
Not that Amriel acknowledges it. He just withdraws a full-sized wayfarer’s gyre from his desk drawer, probably the same one he used for the Claiming. His fist closes around it, his fingers long enough to swallow it up.
My pulse kicks as I eye the thing. “We’re not using that, are we? What about the curse? Won’t we explode?”
His answering smile holds no warmth at all. “We’re going near the Wildwood, not into it. There’s a clearing just outside the labyrinth. Landing there is perfectly safe.”
“Oh.” I clutch at my satchel. “Okay.”
He skirts around the desk. I instinctively rise to back away, but he keeps coming, closing the distance, towering over me.
“What’re you doing?” I demand.
“Transporting you,” he says flatly. “Now hold on. Arms around my waist.”
My face heats. “No. What? When the Shadow took me, he didn’t need me to—”
“Because he’s terrified of scaring you.” His words slice across mine, silencing me. “But I have no such problem. And I won’t lose you to the in-between because of prudishness.”
“But…” I grope for some other rebuttal. “You just told me not to touch you.”
“You can hold on without touching my skin.”
I open my mouth to protest, but his patience has clearly run out, because he drapes the satchel over my shoulders and yanks my arms around his waist, his touch purposeful, utilitarian.
The whole time, those yellow eyes bore into mine. “Ready?”
“I…guess. All right.”
He nods briskly. Light spills from the gyre as its gears hum to life.
I stand stiffly, my arms wrapped around his waist. I know I should hate everything about this, but…Ishanna’s breath. His warmth, his scent, the firmness of his enormous body…it all seeps into me, stealing away my thoughts, along with every last scrap of my voice.
I wrench my attention downward, trying to escape his dizzying effect. But my gaze lands on his chest—his half-bare, perfectly sculpted chest, where a rhythmic flicker betrays the cadence of his heart. I stare at it, frowning.
Because with every beat, an echo rushes through my veins. Amriel’s heart flickers; mine thuds. Again and again, in perfect sync, like a call and response I never agreed to.
Horror unfolds within me. No. That can’t possibly—
The world drops away.
My stomach lurches as nothingness swallows me up. It’s worse than last time, maybe because I’m already off-balance, maybe because of where we’re going. I cling to Amriel. His presence is an anchor, a solid point amid the chaos.
I hate him for it. I hate that my body instinctively seeks out his, that his curls around mine in return.
Then the world snaps into place, and I go stumbling. When I recover, I find myself in a dappled clearing where long grass trembles in the breeze. Lazy bees dip in and out of blossoms, while twenty paces away, the Wildwood rises like a wall.
My heart shrinks down to a cold, hard pebble.
Up close, the forest looks even more menacing than it did from the solarium.
Shadows cloak the trees, so thick I can’t see into them.
I can’t see much of anything, actually, except a darkened entrance at the mouth of the labyrinth, where a looming archway brackets swirling shadows.
I gulp. The idea of stepping through makes my stomach whirl all over again.
I turn, instinctually seeking reassurance, but Amriel is already backing away, already putting distance between us. His face is a frigid mask, empty of any emotion.
“The hourglass is that way.” He gestures toward the forest. “Go straight through, as best as you can manage. The Wildwood will try to turn you around. Don’t let it.”
I nod, my throat too tight for words.
He regards me for a moment longer, his expression unreadable. His grip on the gyre tightens, its light flaring once more.
“Wait.” The protest bursts out of me before I can stop it. “That’s it? You're just going to…leave me?”
He arcs an eyebrow. “What did you expect, Princess? A tearful goodbye?”
“No, I just—” I falter, but he’s right. What did I expect? “No, of course not.”
His jaw tightens, an almost imperceptible hesitation. For a heartbeat, I almost think he might say something else. Something real.
“I…” he starts.
I lean in, unable to help myself.
But he changes course, his attention shifting to the trees. “Just remember. Don’t let my Shadow catch you.”
“Right.” I sink back, the warning settling heavily in my gut. “Yes. I’ll…do my best.”
“Good.” His mouth curves into that intolerable sneer again. “And Princess?”
“Yes?”
“Try not to die.”
“I—”
But reality splits, and he’s gone.
I stand there, the strap of my satchel heavy across my shoulders, the lingering ghost of Amriel’s presence still humming in the air.
I wait until its fizzle fades. With any luck, I’ll never see him again. I’ll make my way through the labyrinth, break the hourglass, then choose the Aethrolian door and leave Velindra forever.
And then—once an entire mountain range separates me from the fae king—our hearts will no longer beat in time. Or if they do, I won’t know it, much less care.
I spin to face the Wildwood, buoyed by the thought. But the moment I do, the breeze dies. The wildflowers go still. Even the birdsong fades, leaving only silence.
I take a fortifying breath. Another. My hand finds my pendant and squeezes. “Guide me, Ishanna,” I whisper. “Please.”
The metal warms in my fingers. I square my shoulders and take my first step toward the shadowy gateway.
The moment my foot crosses into darkness, the Wildwood swallows me whole.