61. Princess Esemeray
PRINCESS ESEMERAY
She didn’t know how long she had been reading for, but she did know she just reached her most cherished chapter of Dungeons of Secrets and Lies.
One she could now fully relate to. Esemeray’s heart fluttered.
Finally, she could understand the author’s words, and grasp the emotions Echo and Ralph felt beneath the cherry tree on the hill.
Excitement surged through her chest as she read the last sentence of the page.
“I will choose you in every lifetime, and I will love you through it all.”
She shut the book with a smile, placing it on the table next to her, and slunk into the sheets, thinking about Riggs.
“I love you, Em.”
Her thoughts swirled as fast as the butterflies in her stomach.
Everything felt surreal. Sharper. More vivid.
She closed her eyes, reliving the memories from last night.
Her heart expanded. It was perfect. Everything she could have wanted.
The weight of him on top of her, inside of her, making love to her.
Her fingers floated to her lips knowing his had been placed there only hours ago.
She sighed, collapsing deeper onto a pillow in awe. She chewed on her lip. What time is it? Esemeray glanced around for a clock. But there were none. Riggs had said he’d be back in an hour—no later. It had been longer than an hour—two at least.
“Where is he?” she murmured. He had told her to wait for his arrival, but the unknown was agony.
I will find him myself.
She set her feet on the cold, tiled floor and darted toward the door.
But it did not open.
Esemeray yanked, panic sailing through her with every attempt.
It’s locked.
Her entire body flushed, her breaths coming in uneven rasps. She curled her hands into fists, digging her nails into her palms.
Something is wrong.
She rushed toward the window, attempting to pull back the drapes, but they were stuck to the frame. Esemeray angled her head, running her fingertips across the nails pinning the fabric in place.
Who nails in drapes?
Stone crumbled beneath her feet. Esemeray swallowed her yelp, leaping back and covering her mouth to silence her next scream. The breath left her lungs as a man, caked in dust, crawled out of the floor.
Esemeray launched toward the bed to gain higher ground, tucking her hands to her chest. He stumbled closer, panting and reaching for her. Blinded with nerves, she kicked him, but his firm grip wrapped around her ankle and stopped her easily.
A small smirk tilted his lips. “I need to teach you how to fight, princess,” he said, releasing his hold.
Relief seeped deep in Esemeray’s bones. She whirled around, her gown flowing beneath her. “Riggs!” She jumped into his arms, not caring how filthy he was. Not caring that dust polluted her nose.
Riggs searched her face, sweeping her hair back. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Are you? How—” Her eyes widened as another man emerged, coughing. She tucked herself behind Riggs, fear licking down her spine. “Watch out!”
“I’m okay, too. Thanks for asking.” Killian glared, dusting himself off, chalking the floor white.
Esemeray cocked a brow, facing Riggs. “Do you care to explain why the both of you just crawled out of the floor?”
Riggs' throat worked. “Kohen knows who you are.”
Esemeray blinked and was certain she was no longer breathing.
Riggs' gaze landed on her chest, on her scar. He reached for her trembling hands, stopping her tremors. “Kohen made your necklace, Em.” He met her gaze. “I… I had no idea. I’m so sorry I put you into this mess. But I’m going to fix it.”
The room spun, and her vision blurred.
My necklace.
A memory of her seventh birthday overtook her. It was the same day she had received her necklace. She could never forget the bright beam that shot from the strange man’s palms. At the time, she had thought he was a magician her mother hired for their birthday that year.
Kohen was the man at the castle who wore brightly colored robes.
The same man Elora and her made jokes about, laughing endlessly all night to ease the pain of the necklace—to take their mind off their new reality. No more flying…no more shifting.
She was once trapped again. How did I not recognize him?
Kohen didn’t age well. She had never seen anyone with so many wrinkles. It was as if he depleted his magic over the years. Trading his soul for wealth and power.
“That’s why the door is locked,” Esemeray mumbled. “I should have known.”
“No, I should have been more careful.” Riggs glanced around the room. “He has eyes everywhere. I thought he meant the servants, but there’s something off about the paintings. The eyes, they move.”
The color from Esemeray’s face drained, the hair on her arms rising. She shrunk behind Riggs and rasped, “We need to get out of this room.”
The paintings have indeed been watching her since the moment she arrived.
Riggs flushed, his stance stiffening. “That’s not the only thing…”
Esemeray’s tummy turned, preparing for what he was about to declare. Riggs rubbed down her shoulders, over her back, calming her with every touch. “Your mother and father know where you are. Guards are on their way as we speak.” His voice shook. “Can you shift?”
She gulped, shaking her head. “There are wards around the temple that are blocking my ability.”
Riggs swore low, pacing around the room.
Nausea swirled viciously at the thought of her parents—at the thought of Kohen seeing everything that had happened between her and Riggs.
Did he hear everything, too?
Pervert.
Killian tore the paintings off the wall and turned them around—every single last one of them.
Riggs rushed to the window, light flooding the room as he yanked back the tapestries, nails clinking to the floor. “I can climb down.” He turned to Killian. “Where are they keeping our horses?”
“The stables,” Killian said, offering Esemeray a small nod.
Despite her nerves, she forced a smile, aware they had not spoken since last night. So much has happened since then…
Esemeray surveyed Killian’s features. There was something about him today that weighed on her chest.
Am I feeling his emotions?
“Windows locked.” Riggs threw up his hands, huffing.
“I got it.” Killian rushed to Riggs, reaching into his pocket and retrieving a metal object. The brothers worked together, bickering back and forth.
“Will you just listen to me, idiot.”
“Calm the fuck down.”
Her breaths slowed.
Elora and she had disagreed about things.
Silly things, but still. A sad smile curved her lips.
The worst fight was when they were playing dolls, or as Elora called it, “acting.” Esemeray had not said the correct lines Elora had written up, and Elora had made a huge fit about it then tore her own doll’s head off.
Mother had bought her many replacements.
Elora had always been quite the actress, and the writer?—
“I’m telling you, try this,” Riggs urged, pointing at the corners of the window, his fingers rotating in a circular motion.
Killian shook his head, releasing a heavy sigh. “I know what I’m doing.”
“Alright, I’ll just go fuck myself then.” Riggs scoffed, throwing his hands up.
“Fine, I will try it your way.” Killian side-eyed him. “Happy?”
“Delighted.”
Riggs surveyed him, tapping his boot with every minute that passed.
Killian pushed the glass.
Nothing.
“Move, will you.” Riggs shoved past Killian, wiggling the pane.
Nothing.
Both brothers pressed down, and a click sounded.
A gust of warm wind blew her hair behind her shoulders. Riggs stared out the open window with intensity, his brows drawing inward. “Brother, you did it…”
“No, you did. I should trust you more…” Killian said with a grunt as he stood.
“Fuck…” Riggs murmured, closing his eyes and squeezing his temples. “You’re going to hate me for this.”
“What do you need me to do?” Killian asked with lethal calmness.
“I need you to stay with her while I create a diversion.”
Killian’s shoulder curled, his features softening into something, something like sorrow. “No, Riggs, we don’t split up.” Killian’s voice cracked.
Esemeray’s heart lodged in her throat.
“I’m responsible for this. I need to be the one to fix it. I’m… I’m tired of fucking up all the time,” Riggs expressed, his voice a low rasp.
Killian’s lips trembled, his thumb pointing to his chest. “I am the fuck-up. Not you.”
Esemeray’s eyes welled with tears, her stomach sinking.
“You’re not…” Riggs grabbed his shoulder. “A fuck-up.”
“I am,” Killian said, his head drooping. “I have been for the last ten years…and…I’m sorry…for everything I put you through. I should have been a better brother. I should have been there for you when you lost Ryker. I should have?—”
“Killian…” Riggs' face went taunt. “I never blamed you…not once.”
“But—”
“You went through a lot…” Riggs' gaze gravitated to Esemeray. “I couldn’t imagine losing someone I love.” His eyes softened. “I would’ve been just as destroyed, or worse, dead already from a broken heart.” He faced Killian. “You are the strongest person I know.”
Esemeray swallowed the lump in her throat.
Killian breathed, “Something doesn’t feel right.”
“Nothing ever does.” Riggs reached his pockets, pulling out gloves and sliding them on. “Promise me you will keep her safe.”
Killian was silent for a moment, then nodded, pulling in Riggs for an embrace. “I promise. I love you, brother.”
“Love you.” Riggs nodded, glancing at Esemeray, his eyes holding an emotional weight that she couldn’t bear. “I love you, Em.”
Tears slipped down her cheeks. “I?—”
Riggs leapt out the window.
I love you, too.