Chapter 34
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
EMYR
Istumble through the portal after nightfall, having spent a day on the road. I’m just where I need to be, but it’s taken too long. Anything could have happened to Ophelia on this day.
I must find her before it’s too late.
Far Water only reminds me of Ophelia and everything we shared, however short-lived our betrothal may have been. I am not in the heart of the village, as I was last time. Instead, I stand in front of unrecognizable scenery—someone’s home. I’m alone, without my loyal guard to protect me.
My hands shake as I take in the sight of the looming Gothic home. The curse is lighter here, though still present, but I know that is not the reason for the darkness shrouding the home. It’s the sorceress inside.
How did Ophelia live in such a dreary place for so long? My beloved is stronger than she thinks she is.
I pull my coat tighter and take a step toward the rusted gate.
A little voice calls from behind me. “Wait!”
It’s not Ophelia; I know her voice better than I know my own. Her tunes are the ones that hum through my mind in silent moments. If she chooses not to be with me, she’ll still be the one who lights up my mind.
But no, the one who appears is a mortal. She wears a brown cape over her beige gown and seems quite ordinary, even out of place near the darkened forest. What could she possibly want with me?
“You’re the prince,” she says. “W-we met at the ball, but I don’t know if you recall.”
Of course, I don’t. The last person who claimed we met at a ball had been lying. Nevertheless, I smile. “I recall you attending my ball, yes. What are you doing here?”
Isa instructed me to trust no one, and putting my faith in this little mortal who can barely speak past her shaking voice doesn’t seem wise. I’m still not cruel enough to shove her away, although that may be in my best interest.
“I’m Raia,” she says. “I live in this house.”
“Then you are…?” I shake my head. There is no way this little creature is the sorceress. Darkness does not become her.
Perhaps it’s a disguise.
“I am Raia, as I said.” She tilts her head. “Ophelia is my stepsister. Have you come to rescue her at last?”
One of Ophelia’s stepsisters. She told me about them—that they were once quite close. If anyone can help, it may be her. This quest isn’t as hopeless as it appears.
My eyes light up, and I step closer. “Yes. You must bring me to her at once. Tell me how to get into the estate—”
“Hold on! If you run in like a hero, our mother will catch you. She’s in her study now, but if anything changes around this home, she’ll know. She always knows.”
That must be why this young woman seems to be frigid, shuddering as though something is running up her spine. She fears her mother. As frustrating and single-minded as my parents are, I can’t imagine fearing my mother this way.
My heart softens. “I must save Ophelia. You don’t know me in any real way, but she’s very dear to me.”
“So she has said.” Her shoulders drop. “I wish to help you in any way I can. There’s much for me to make up for. I haven’t always been the best sister to Ophelia, and if I can help now…”
“You can. You must help me get inside. Do you know where they’re keeping her?”
The shadow of a large tree passes over her face. “She is locked in her bedchamber, but I don’t have a key.”
“Is her friend with her? Helena?”
“I believe so.”
At least she’s not alone. Helena is strong and sound in her own right. She’s handy with locks, too, if rumors are to be believed. I would not be surprised if the two of them sneak out alone.
I peer up at the windows, looking for a sign of Ophelia. “You must tell me the layout of the home, and you must retrieve the key for me or find another way to undo the lock. Can you do that?”
“I can try.” It’s not even a bit chilly, but the poor thing is shaking like a leaf. “My sister will help. She’s better at these things.”
“Good.” I point to the woods. “I’ll be hiding in the woods until you’re ready. Find a way to give me a signal when it’s time.”
“I will.” She takes a step back. “Prince Emyr?”
“Yes?”
“If you free Ophelia again… can you take us with you? My sister and I?” She looks up at the house with terror in her round eyes. “I don’t know how much longer we should stay with Mother. She is unwell…”
That is what Ophelia would want, isn’t it? This woman claims to be her sister, and while Ophelia has rarely spoken about her sisters, I know who Ophelia is. She cares about people and is committed to doing what is right. If Ophelia isn’t safe here, neither are these poor mortals.
I care about what’s right, too, and leaving two harmless people to a wolfish sorceress is as wrong as can be.
“I’ll do everything I can.” I press a hand to my heart. “That’s my solemn vow.”
OPHELIA
A letter slips under the door, and Helena plucks it up before I can tear myself from my spot at the window. All day, I’ve been willing Isa to reappear… or the prince. To see him standing in the middle of the garden, with his heart still open to me, would be a sight for sore eyes.
Instead, we’re given a letter.
“What does it say?” I sound dull; I am dull. Everything about me speaks of blandness. Boring. Lifeless. I run my fingers over the ends of my frazzled hair.
“It’s from Elisa.” Helena’s eyes are wide and joyful, vibrant for the first time in days. “The prince is here to save us.”
I sit upright. Life awakens in me, and I vibrate from head to toe. “He is not! You don’t believe this is a trick?”
“How am I supposed to know?” She lets out a joyful giggle. “But if they need a way to unlock the door, I’ll help.”
“Are you certain? We’ve been unable to pick the lock so far.”
“Because we don’t have the tools. It may be easier from the outside.” She presses closer to the door. “Tap once if you’re still here.”
A tiny tap comes from the other side.
“Good,” Helena says. “Now, retrieve these items and give the prince the following instructions immediately. Don’t dillydally.”
EMYR
The woods surround me like a cover, but I still worry about being seen by the sorceress. After hiding away all day, I’ve not seen a hint of the dreaded being—or Ophelia. My hope wanes and waxes.
“What’s this?” I take the bent wire from Raia.
Her other sister stands at her side, with a hand on Raia’s shoulder. They remain close to one another, and I recognize the older sister’s protective nature.
My heart aches for Carwyn. Would he be here, with me? Would there have been a curse at all if he could have lived? Surely, he would have found a lover and married by now.
“It’s to open the lock,” Raia says. “We were unable to get the key from Mother, but Helena says she’ll instruct you on how to use this… this thing. If it doesn’t work, this is our secondary plan.”
The next item they pass me is an axe, held in their shaking hands.
I balk. “Where did you get this?”
And how am I supposed to use it? I was raised to read books and marry well, not to swing an axe. It’s heavy in my hand, so much so that I worry I’ll drop it on my foot.
If only Tibalt could have accompanied me.
“You’ll have to figure that out on your own,” Elisa says, “but there is good news.”
“A key would be better news,” I mutter.
“Fine, it’s not quite that good, but Mother will leave tonight,” Raia says. “Elisa set up a fake meeting with a suitor, and she agreed to attend with us. The house will be empty.”
“That”—I shift from one foot to another and tilt my head to the side—“does sound favorable, but I don’t trust it.”
Something will go wrong, but even if it does, that doesn’t matter. This is my only option, and it’s far better than barging in without assistance.
“You should have more faith in us,” Elisa says. “We have more sway with our mother than you would know.”
I stare at her flatly. “I will have faith once we are free from your mother.”
They still call her their mother. Do they not realize who she is—and what she is? She is the woman who cursed this land. The curse may not be strong in Far Water, but it’s potent enough that corrupt fae attacks are frequent.
This will stop. It will all stop. Whether I have to kill the sorceress or marry Ophelia to free our land, I will end the shadow and killing, once and for all.
The sisters scurry inside, and I wait hours for the carriage to leave. Ophelia has been trapped in the home for days now, and it eats at my soul. Why must I move so slowly? If I were more like Tibalt, I would barge in and demand her freedom.
But I’m not. I’ll never be that strong.
By the time the family of three piles into the carriage, I’ve withered into nothing. Their ride is less extravagant than a royal carriage, and far less than Isa’s glimmering beauty, but it should do the job of getting them out of my hair.
I clutch the axe with white knuckles and wait until I can no longer see them before approaching the darkened house. Magic is heavy here, as if this home is cursed by the same thing that ruined my palace.
Isa is right. The lady of the house is the same sorceress. She must be.
I wiggle the front door, and by some minor miracle, it’s unlocked. It appears the sisters aren’t as useless as I assumed.
Quiet sounds greet me. The ticking of a clock. The click of my feet against the floor. And then, nothingness.
I grip the axe tightly, swing it over my shoulders, and climb the winding staircase to the right, and at the end, as I was told. It’s the smallest room in the house, and the only door that locks from the outside.
Poor Ophelia.
Floorboards creak beneath my heavy gait, and my wings remain tucked but trembling. The wooden axe handle presses into my shoulder, and though I am strong enough to hold it upright, I worry it will push me down into the Hells.
I set the axe down and tap my knuckles against the wooden door. The wood is tough; using the axe on it won’t be simple.
“Who is it?” A voice whispers from inside.
Ophelia. Those aren’t the first words I want to hear from her, but the mere sound of her voice makes my spirits soar.
“It is I.” My throat squeezes tight enough that my words come out choked and mangled, spoken through a sob. “Emyr. I’m here to free you.”
“Emyr?” Helena says. “Gods! Is that really you? I could kiss you!”
“Helena,” Ophelia exclaims.
“What?” Helena says. “He may be a prince, but right now, he’s our bloody savior.”
“He’s more than those things. He’s my betrothed.”
Warmth flushes through me, expanding my chest with adoration. She still considers me her betrothed?
“You left him,” Helena says. “As far as I know, he’s available.”
“That’s enough bickering.” I chuckle. “I am unavailable, but I’ll try to be your savior nevertheless.” I hold the wire in my shaking hands. “I don’t know how to use this device.”
“Which one?” Ophelia asks. “The wire, or the axe?”
“Both—but the wire. The axe is… it’s self-explanatory, I suppose.”
“Shove it in and wiggle it around,” Helena says. “Let us see if we can make a locksmith of ya.”
“Where did you learn to do this?” I mutter, shoving the wire into the keyhole.
“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to.” Helena sighs. “You’re doing it wrong already, Your Highness. Try to get the bit bent in—”
We spend too long like that, with Helena giving me instructions and me failing each one. The ticking clock becomes another curse. The sound lives in my mind. Each time I drop the wire, letting out a puff of frustration, the tick is louder.
“Enough.” I pick up the axe. “Stand back. I’m breaking the door down.”
“Do what you must,” Ophelia says.
“How attractive,” Helena squeals.
TIK-TOK… TIK-TOK…
I pay no mind to the squabbling behind the door and shove the sharpened axe into the wood. It barely makes a dent. I go again, pushing it into the same spot. The splintered wood grows.
“Keep going,” Ophelia says. “We only need a big enough hole to climb through.”
With each swing of the axe, the wood cracks and breaks.
Ophelia.
I can finally see her, just through the tiniest hole. She’s a mess of frizzy hair, a tearstained face, with the same gown she wore last time I saw her.
Any doubt of whether she loves me or not dissolves. While she looks at me with great terror, love still exists behind her gaze. There will always be love between us, whether or not she chooses to marry me. I believe that.
I swing the axe again and again. Helena cheers, Ophelia sobs, and soon they’re free. I drop the axe to the floor with a loud thud. There is no time for what I want to do—to kiss Ophelia, to embrace her, to fly with her pressed to my chest.
“Hurry,” I say. “We must leave at once. The lady of the house is set to return hours from now, but—”
The front door opens with a loud bang.
“Run!” Raia’s squeaky voice echoes from downstairs. “She’s here. She’s—”