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How many hours until sunrise? My chains rattled as I shivered from more than just blood loss. It was damn cold in this cell. At least the cold seemed to slow my bleeding, but still, I couldn’t do a damn thing in human form. And the deadly collar around my neck kept me from shifting and fixing this entire situation. With no food, and no way to rest chained this way, I didn’t have much of a chance making it through the night.
My brain kept circling around what Rory’s father had said. Them. He had said my father tried to save them, but it wasn’t enough. I glanced at Rory and a lump formed in my throat at the dichotomy of emotions assaulting my already weak form. Hate for her father for taking away mine, and gratitude at what he had done because my father’s death had made Rory possible.
I glanced up at the window, wishing for a miracle.
At least we weren’t totally drenched in darkness. Moonlight lit up the cell enough for me to see Rory’s frantic agony, and it surpassed my own.
She clawed at the invisible wall until red streaks marred the air from her bloodied fingers. Seeing her near hysteria hurt more than the cramps in my muscles. She collapsed, sobbing, and all I wanted to do was break these chains and hold her until she stopped crying.
“It’s okay,” I said, even though I knew it wasn’t. I would never feel her body against mine or the flutter of her heart as I kissed her. Just thinking about her lips made my cock twitch.
She looked up at me and her eyes held a devastation I didn’t know how to fix. She shook her head slowly as tears glistened in the moonlight. “Seeing you suffer will never be okay.” Her soft voice cracked.
“I should have...” I closed my eyes and all the opportunities that I had to make her mine passed before my eyes. “I should have just taken you this morning. Damn the consequences.” I leaned my head back as far as my collar would allow. I inhaled her scent, letting it wrap around me like a soft caress.
She sniffled. “I wish you had, too.”
I opened my eyes and looked at her. Regret was a beast more savage than my dragon side. This was not the last emotion I wanted to experience and yet it layered over every breath, every thought. “At least I got to dance with you.” I tried on a smile just for her.
It must have been more natural than I thought because her lips curved into her soft, secret smile, and damned if that expression didn’t move something deep within me. I was serious in the closet when I suggested we marry, but it had nothing to do with uniting the kingdoms. It was a purely selfish want. But the odds of that happening now were not in my favor.
Somewhere, church bells started their midnight toll. She glanced out the window and I followed her gaze, allowing a smidgen of hope to find its way into my soul. It was crushed the moment I looked back at Rory.
Her smile slowly disappeared as her eyes glazed over like someone under a spell. I should know. I had dabbled from time to time in control spells. And she certainly represented the slackening faces of my victims. My heart dropped to the floor.
“Rory?” I asked.
She showed no signs of hearing me. She stood like a marionette and took a stunted step forward. There was nowhere to go, but that did not stop my pulse from racing, creating hot pain in my wrist as the cut reopened from the newly created force of blood.
“Aurora!” I yelled, struggling against the restraints.
No response. She took another step toward the door and like the magic that had gripped her, the door swung open on its own accord. It had to be that damn curse of my mother’s.
“Rory! No!” I bellowed and watched helplessly as she walked out the door.
I yanked the chains holding me in place and let out a cry that I was certain would alert the guards. But no one came. It dawned on me that the wall that kept Rory from me also muted my calls for help.
Still, I ranted until my voice failed and I slumped against the wall. “God damn it, Mother. Why?” I knew her reasoning. She had explained the glory of her revenge daily, poisoning my mind against humans since the day my father died.
“Fuck,” I muttered, and considered shifting, I didn’t have much to live for if Rory died. But if I took that route, there would be zero chance of saving Rory from my mother’s grim curse. I banged my head against the wall, inhaling the last of Rory’s lingering scent.
The air changed, like the days of the black death when the wind shifted to bring the stench of rot to the other side of the wall. I had gagged on it then and I gagged on it now, coughing and spitting so it didn’t take me along for the death ride.
But this was worse. It wasn’t just a random disease taking life. This was far more evil. It meant Rory was now in the grasp of my mother’s curse.