“So how do we break the curse?”
I spent all last night tossing and turning in my bed, thinking about everything the day revealed.
And now I’m angry.
I know exactly where to find the prince, too. Every morning, he trains with his sword. It takes me only a few minutes to track him down in the solar at the top of the tallest tower in the castle. Swords ring and curses grunt, but with my words, the entire room goes still.
Thiago pauses in his attack, breathing hard as he steps away from Baylor. Sweat mars his shirt, and I can see those writhing black tattoos painted across his skin beneath it. “Wife.”
It’s such a jarring word, but this time, I’m prepared to face it. “Your Highness.”
I’m not yet ready to call him husband.
I don’t know if I ever will be.
“How do we break the curse?” I repeat softly.
Eris watches from one of the window arches, wearing a brown leather corset, knee high boots, and a golden armband that highlights her dark skin. Her black hair is bound back this morning, and the second she saw me, her eyebrows rose and haven’t resettled. There’s a cat nestled on her knee, and she slowly resumes stroking it.
“We don’t,” Thiago tells me, his words clipped as he lowers the sword. “We’ve had you examined by every sorcerer and witch this side of Unseelie. The curse is knotted so tightly around you that any attempt to undo it will only destroy your mind. You felt what it was like to merely learn the truth. This will kill you.”
“So, we just let my mother win?”
We just let her steal away my life, year by year?
“You will remember me. One day,” he says sharply. “You will break the spell, I have no doubt of that.”
“And in the meantime?” I step closer, my hands curled. Another truth assaulted me during the night. It was so easy to call fire last night. I barely even thought it, and my magic was sweeping through me. And Thiago had been so certain I could learn to ward. That I could wield my magic. “I forget everything, don’t I? This curse steals all of my memories from me. It steals my hold on my magic. Doesn’t it?”
His gaze lowers as he wipes an oiled rag along the length of his sword. “Yes. It steals everything.”
I knew it, and yet, the blow still staggers me.
I want to set the fucking world on fire.
“Vi,” Thiago warns, stepping closer.
Smoke curls through the air. My clenched palms feel hot.
“Control it,” he warns.
I can’t. I’m burning up again, and this time there is no way to tamp it down. It flares through me, like a phoenix bursting to life in my chest. Hot and violent and screaming with rage.
Flames burst into being around me. I am pure, molten fire.
They rage in a circular inferno, and too late, I realize he’s warded me so none of my magic can escape.
“Control it,” he barks.
I can’t.
My hair whips around me, my skin cracking apart as the fire consumes me. All my life, all I’ve ever wanted is my magic, but this is terrifying. It’s so much. Too much. A dam that’s burst its banks, and nothing I can do will force it back inside me.
“Breathe, Vi. Think of kittens. Soft, fluffy kittens.’
Kittens?
What in the Underworld is he talking about?
But in the next second, I realize the flames are dying down.
With a desperate wrench of willpower, I swallow it all back down, letting it consume me instead. All the hatred and the anger, and the… grief.
I end up on my knees, panting, holding my hands in front of me. They’re whole, the skin unblistered, but I swear they were on fire bare seconds ago.
“Kittens?” I manage to rasp.
Thiago kneels, capturing my hands. “I needed to distract you. You lost control of your emotions and hence your magic,” he says sharply. “Anger and hate will only exacerbate the lack of control, and you’ll end up burning the city down if you don’t yield to it.”
My entire being is shaking. I can smell the smoke again. Feel the heat drying my throat. “I don’t know how. She took everything.”
“And we will take it back,” he says grimly. “Trust me, Vi. Trust me. You’re not alone. I won’t let you deal with this alone.”
He presses his lips to my forehead, and a wave of coolness slides over my skin. It’s his magic, dark and foreign, but it feels like drenching myself in water.
The heat and rage abate, and finally I can breathe again.
“I offered to teach you how to ward once,” he tells me, hauling me to my feet. “The offer still stands, though I will extend it to teaching you how to control your magic. If you want?”
It’s not so much a matter of want as a matter of need. The entire room stinks of smoke. “Do I have a choice?’
“You always have a choice.”
“Did I have a choice when you and my mother made this foolish bargain? Did I have a choice when she told me I was going to be your hostage for three months?” I’m tired of being pushed and pulled around.
“Eris. Baylor. May we have some privacy.”
It’s not a question.
Baylor glances at me, glances at him, then stalks past, hurrying down the stairs as if he doesn’t want to be privy to any part of this conversation. Eris moves a little slower, sauntering across the floor.
“Good luck,” she drawls. “I hope you both manage to keep your eyebrows this time.”
Then their footsteps are echoing down the stairs.
“You’re angry,” Thiago says.
“Would you not be?”
He shrugs. “Yes. But I don’t have the luxury of allowing myself to lose control. That’s the first lesson, Vi. Power such as ours is not merely a gift, but a responsibility.”
It’s all I’ve ever craved, but I can’t help looking at the charred marble that surrounds me.
“Let me help you,” he says.
“You want to help me?” I turn toward the sword rack and take one of them from its sheath with a steely rasp. I need to do something physical, to rid myself of this rush of blood roaring in my ears. “Then fight me.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I don’t care if it’s a good idea or not. She took my… my magic from me. She took my memories. Everything. You.” Meeting his eyes, she tipped her chin up. “I don’t remember you. You say I loved you. You say I was your wife, but it feels like you’re talking about someone else.”
“Do you think I don’t see that in your eyes every time you look at me?” he snarled.
It wasn’t just me who’d lost something.
“How can I trust anyone when everything that’s ever been said to me is a lie?”
“I wasn’t the one lying to you,” he said.
I cross to the center of the tower, the sword weaving figure-of-eights in the air. “Really? Because it feels like a lie of omission. All these days, you’ve been flirting with me, smirking at me, driving me crazy…. Knowing what I’ve lost—what I had taken from me—for thirteen years—”
“Do you think I enjoy it?” The muscle in his jaw ticks. “Having you look at me like I’m a stranger? Every year you tell me you won’t forget me, and every year when you return, you don’t even know me.”
“That’s not my fault.”
“I know.” A frustrated sigh escapes him as he draws his sword again. “I know. But it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change.”
“You said you have no doubt I’ll break the spell. It doesn’t sound like it.”
A growl curls through his throat. “I have faith in you. I have to, Vi. There is no other option.”
“There has to be something we can do. I won’t accept this. I won’t just hold my breath and hope for the best.” I can’t live like that. I need to do something, and if we fail, then at least we tried.
“Considering the alternative is watching your brains trickle out your ears, I don’t want to take that risk.”
“It’s not your choice,” I remind him.
And then I attack.
The swords meet in a clash of steel that vibrates up my arm. Maia help me, but he’s ridiculously strong. I’ll never beat him in a full-frontal attack.
I turn into a series of sharp ripostes and disengages, trying to lure him into a trap. But he’s prepared, and merely arches a brow when I suddenly lunge forward.
The truth burns: he’s toying with me. Not fighting me with all his skill.
Rage ignites within me.
A kick takes out the side of his knee, and I throw myself into a flurry of strokes. It feels good to let the anger wash through me. I don’t have to worry about pulling my strokes—it’s somewhat gratifying to realize he’s forced to use all his skill now to keep me at bay.
“Getting tired?”
A fierce smile flashes white teeth at me. “I could do this all day, my love.”
He lunges forward, forcing me back with a flurry of fancy footwork.
I don’t know where it comes from, but as I parry his blade, driving it toward the ground, I step into him, hooking my foot behind his calf. His body slams into mine, but he’s off-balance enough that I manage to kick his feet out from under him.
We both go down, the swords flying free. I hit with an oof and then I’m rolling. Twisting my hips to lock my legs around his and reaching for the dagger at my belt.
I put the knife to his throat with a snarl as I straddle him
For several seconds there’s only silence.
The urge to strike dies down, leaving me breathless. Leaving us both breathless.
“There she is,” he whispers, lying flat on his back in surrender.
There’s a moment where something inside me urges me to slash my blade across his skin, to see if he’ll still smile then, but somehow, I rein it in. I don’t know where this anger has come from.
Thiago stills, his green eyes hooding with heat as he clasps my thigh. He tilts his head arrogantly, revealing the vulnerable skin of his throat. “Go ahead. You have me at your mercy, my love.”
“Stop calling me that.”
“My life is yours, my heart, my soul. It always has been, from the second I saw you, curse you. If you want it, all you have to do is take it.”
My heart skips a beat.
“And if I don’t want it?” I whisper, glaring down at him.
A thumb brushes against my inner thigh, and I suck in a sharp breath. Thiago’s dark eyes hood as if he knows exactly what’s going through my mind. “I thought we weren’t going to lie to each other anymore? Or to ourselves?”
The tip of the knife draws blood, and I throw the blade away with a clatter. I try to push to my feet, but he’s not done.
One hand locks around my knee, pinning me atop him. The other snatches at my wrist. I sprawl forward, slamming both palms against his chest and breathing hard.
Two hundred pounds of healthy, solid male lies beneath me. My nails curl into his chest, ruching the fabric of his shirt and drawing a hiss from him.
It had been instinct to touch him like that.
Perhaps something rising from the depths of my subconscious. My body recognizing what my mind doesn’t remember.
Want. Need. Furious desire.
But with it comes a flood of uncertainty.
I tear at his grip on her wrists. “Let go of me.”
“Aren’t you tired of running?”
“Aren’t you tired of chasing me?” I snap, and see the words strike him like a whip lash across the face.
Thiago finally lets me go, rolling out from under me and finding his feet with fluid grace. The muscles in his jaw are locked, his expression turning hard. “Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps I should let you go.”
I clamber to my feet, wanting to take the words back somehow.
But it’s too late.
They’re out in the open, flaying the protective armor from around his heart. I can see it in his eyes as he turns for the door.
Words can be sharper than steel, and this time I’ve drawn blood. The worst thing is, the wound sharp words leave can often be far more lethal than any blade. They linger, fester. They’re never forgotten, even long after a flesh wound has healed.
“Wait,” I whisper as the doors slam shut behind him.
It’s not in me to be unkind, but I have been.
This has to be hard on him too.
What would it feel like to see your wife look at you as if you were a stranger, year after year?
“Fuck.” I kick the dagger into the wall, and it hits the floor with a clatter.
I stare at the door as if I can somehow see the prince through it.
I want to lick my wounds in the privacy of my rooms, but that’s cowardice speaking.
And an Asturian princess doesn’t back down from a fight.
Nor does she leave others to repay her debts.