Lea whimpered from her place in the yard as Aurora let herself into the dim morning light. “It’s just me, buddy.” She patted Lea’s neck and bent to pour grain into her bucket at the side of the cottage. When she straightened, she looked to the sky. “It’s going to storm today, Lea.” Swirling dark clouds hung overhead, visible through the swaying tree canopy. Wind whipped Aurora’s hair away from her face. “Once you eat, go find your shelter, okay?”
Lea only shook her head and lowered it to begin eating. The beast hadn’t understood a word Aurora said, but she’d sense the storm and find the cave she retreated to whenever the weather turned bad.
Glancing back at the cottage, Aurora hoped Phillip wasn’t awake yet. She’d have to trap them inside again once he could move about. He’d been injured and unconscious when she brought him here three days ago. He still had quite a bit of healing to do before he could journey back to his home, his life. And by then, Aurora would be preparing for perpetual slumber. One hundred years. That was the curse. By the time she woke, she didn’t know what kind of world she would find.
A raindrop hit her cheek, and she didn’t bother to wipe it away as more fell from the sky, soaking into the faded yellow skirts of her dress. “Aurora.” She sighed. “This is not your life. You don’t mingle with a prince. He isn’t even supposed to know your name.”
Why not? A voice in her head asked.
“Because.” She turned back to the only home she’d known since she was a child. “You belong to her, and soon, she will claim her prize.”
She trudged across sopping ground to push open her door. As soon as she shut it, her magic pulled vines to hold it in place, keeping her inside with Phillip and the rest of the world outside.
Phillip still slept as she toed off her wet boots and made her way to the kitchen. She gripped the handle of the cast iron teapot and hung it over the flames before twisting to the side to reach for more wood to keep the fire going.
She cast another look at the prince to make sure he was still asleep before pulling her dress off over her head, laying it on the back of a chair to dry in front of the flames. Digging in her single trunk at the end of the bed, she found a comfortable pair of worn trousers and a tunic that was two sizes too big. They were her father’s clothes. She didn’t wear them outside the cottage, fearing the damage that would come to the last remaining parts of him she had. But she wouldn’t be going anywhere today.
As if to punctuate the thought, a crack of thunder shook the cottage. She closed the trunk and stood to find Phillip watching her from the bed.
She clutched the clothes to her chest, uniquely aware of how her underclothes left her stomach exposed. Her muscles rippled like no woman she’d ever seen and shame filled her. Since she was a child, Aurora spent her days traipsing through the woods, hunting and climbing trees. The activity had made her strong, but ever since her grandmother died and the curse grew closer, she hadn’t wanted to stop moving, to stop using her body. Now, it was hard where a woman’s should be soft.
Phillip’s eyes blazed into her.
“Um,” she stuttered. “Can you…”
He coughed uncomfortably. “Yes, of course. I’m sorry.” Red tinged his skin from his cheeks to the tips of his ears.
She turned away from him and slipped into the clothes. The whistling of the kettle gave her the excuse she needed not to look him in the eyes.
He sat up, his fingers probing his wound.
“Don’t get out of bed.” She didn’t even turn to give him the order.
His chuckle vibrated through the cottage. “Wouldn’t think of it, but… uh… do you have my clothes somewhere?”
She focused on pouring water over the tea leaves in two chipped cups. It wasn’t the finery he was used to, but it would have to do. “I tried washing your clothing but gave up and burned them instead.”
He choked. “You burned my clothes?”
She shrugged. “They were disgusting, and I didn’t want them in my home.” Her voice lowered. “I couldn’t get the blood out.” In truth, it had reminded her too much of her grandmother’s death. She closed her eyes as images of blood returned to her.
“Breathe,” she muttered to herself. “Just breathe.”
“Do you always talk to yourself?” His voice held no judgment, only curiosity.
She turned, two cups in hand, and crossed the room to him. “Who else would I talk to?” Her question seemed to catch him off guard because he didn’t say another word as he accepted the tea. She set hers on the bedside table and returned to her trunk. “Some of my father’s clothes will most likely fit you.”
“Your father?” Panic entered his gaze. “Will he return to find me here with you?”
With that statement, Aurora saw him as just a boy, not the prince who led the kingdom to war. But it didn’t lessen the stab of pain she felt at the mention of her father. “He’s dead.”
Sympathy entered Phillip’s eyes, but Aurora didn’t want his pity. She could survive on her own. She was strong enough to walk into La Dame’s curse with open eyes. She didn’t break so easily.
With a shrug, she procured long trousers and a tunic with holes in the bottom of it.
A tense silence filled the cottage for most of the day. Phillip slept a lot, regaining his strength. Aurora busied herself mending clothes and making bread between periods of watching the prince sleep. He thrashed about the bed, his eyes shifting beneath his lids. She’d found him at the end of a lost battle. What kind of horrors had he witnessed?
He was right when he said the entire kingdom would be searching for him, but they’d never find him this close to the Draconian wall. At that thought, her brow scrunched. La Dame’s words returned to her. He might be the one.
The one to what?
She shook herself. She had no right to think of the prince, let alone be in the same room as him. “I’m just a forest girl.” And one normally only in the company of a mule. She knew she came off rough sometimes, issuing orders when it wasn’t her place, but she’d had so little experience with people in recent years.
Digging her hands into the dough, she folded it and kneaded it, taking out her frustration. Why did she have to help the prince? She should spend her final month of freedom alone as she preferred. She should be racing Lea through the trees and feel the sun on her face, not staying trapped inside her cottage until the curse finally took her.
She worried what would happen to Lea when she was gone. Maybe the prince could take her back to the palace where she’d have every luxury.
Aurora set the dough aside to rise and wiped her hands on her apron. She stepped up to the window, allowing her magic to pull back the vines covering it. The storm continued to rage outside. Wind thrashed the rain against the window and the water leaked through. She let the vines settle back into place to keep the weather from entering their dry space.
“Aurora.” She twisted her hand through her tangled hair. “Enjoy even the rainy days now. Soon, they will no longer exist to you.”
“Why wouldn’t they exist?”
Phillips voice made her jump. For a moment, she’d forgotten he was there. Ignoring his question, she turned. “You’re awake. Would you like some tea?”
He studied her but didn’t ask the question again. Instead, he settled on one that was almost as complicated. “How do you acquire items such as tea and wheat when you live so far from town? Do you travel often?”
She wrung her hands together. How did she tell him that she relied on the dark sorceress’ good will since her grandmother died? Belaens were supposed to hate La Dame—to fear her. Aurora had never known why La Dame took care of her, provided for her, but she never questioned it when she had so few other options.
Aurora moved past the bed and poured two cups of tea from the steaming kettle. Handing one to Phillip, she moved to sit across the room.
He shook his head. “Am I not to know anything about the girl who saved my life?”
She sipped her tea. “There is nothing a prince needs to know about me.”
He set his tea aside and struggled until he sat on the edge of the bed. “Why not?”
It was a challenge, but she knew her place. She shrugged. “Because soon I won’t matter.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing. It means I am nothing. Please, your Highness, do not ask me more than I am willing to tell. You don’t deserve to carry the burdens of my truths. Your shoulders are already heavy enough from your own burdens.”
He let out a frustrated huff. “You are Belaen. When I am king, you will be my subject. I would like to know what troubles you.”
“I may live on this side of the wall, Highness, but make no mistake. I do not belong to you.” She stood, moving toward the door. “I am hers.”
Speaking to the vines with her magic, she forced them to let her through into the storm. Her cottage was too small for two people, especially when one of them demanded answers. As soon as he recovered, the prince would return to the palace and forget about the girl he’d met in the woods.
Rain pelted her as she made her way to the cave she knew Lea would have taken shelter in, plastering her hair to the side of her face. The mule was her only friend, and she needed to make sure she was okay. Lightning lit the dim gray sky as she found the mouth of the cave.
Lea lifted her head when Aurora entered.
For the first time all day, Aurora smiled. “Hi, buddy.” Her entire body relaxed as understanding eyes bore into hers.
“The prince sure takes up a lot of room, doesn’t he?” A chill raced up her spine, and her limbs shook. She sat and curled against Lea, trying to protect herself against the cold. Her sopping clothes only added to the ice snaking over her skin.
She leaned back against the wall. “I’m going to have to leave you soon, Lea.” She hadn’t yet had the conversation with her friend, but it was time. The mule wouldn’t understand, but it felt necessary anyway. “I promise you I’m not abandoning you. You’re in my every thought, and I don’t want you to be alone in this world with no one to take care of you.” A tear slipped down her cheek.
Aurora spent years preparing for her slumber, rarely letting herself feel the impending fate. Maybe it was La Dame’s visit the night before, maybe it was something else, but she couldn’t stop thinking about the world she was leaving behind. Would someone find her cottage? Would everything she owned belong to someone new? Maybe La Dame’s next victim? She wasn’t the first, and she wouldn’t be the last.
She hugged her knees to her chest to calm her shivering as a sob wracked her body. “I’m so sorry, my friend. I don’t want to go, but La Dame has always owned my future.” She’d never stood a chance in life.
Her words drifted away, drowned out by pounding rain, but her tears remained.
Lea whinnied, and Aurora lifted her eyes to the mouth of the cave where a soaking wet Phillip stood, sword in hand. Her eyes widened when she saw the sword.
He glanced at it. “Oh, sorry. I used it to hack my way out of your trap of a cottage.” He set the sword leaning against the wall of the cave and approached her. “Are you okay?”
Phillips shirt clung to the ridges of his stomach. A small patch of red seeped through. He must have overdone it looking for her in this storm.
She wiped her face and stood. “You shouldn’t be out here.” She had to shout to be heard over the rain.
“I had to make sure you were okay.”
“Why?”
The question seemed to confuse him, but he answered anyway. “You saved me. I’m not going to let something happen to you.” He cocked his head. “I don’t let women just wander into storms on their own.”
“Just great, Aurora” she mumbled to herself. “You had to go and save a noble fool, not some man who’d just leave the first chance he got.”
A grin appeared on his face, and she didn’t know if she should feel irritated he found her amusing.
She stood, her eyes flicking to where his wound was obviously bleeding again. “Bloody fool.” Grabbing his arm, she dragged him back into the rain. “Come.”
She didn’t bother with the vines this time when she shut her door. He’d leave if he wanted to leave. It wasn’t her business.
She shoved him toward the bed. “Remove your clothes.”
He lifted an eyebrow.
She put her hands on her hips. “I need to see your wound. Besides, I don’t want you soaking my bed just because you’re an idiot.”
Laughter sparked in his hazel eyes. Did anyone ever tell this man what they truly thought of him? She guessed not.
Phillip pulled the sopping tunic over his head and dropped his trousers until he only stood in his underclothes. “Would you like me to keep going?” One side of his mouth tilted up.
Heat rose in Aurora’s cheeks, and she pivoted away to grab the bandages. “Sit on the bed. You shouldn’t be on your feet.”
“As you command.”
The pile of bandages were just strips of cloth Aurora had cut when Phillip was sleeping. She may have regretted bringing him into her home, but now that he was here, she would make sure he didn’t die. It was past that point now. If he managed to rest, he’d be out of there in no time and she’d be left to fall into her cursed slumber alone, just as she’d always expected.
But, if there was one thing she already knew about the prince, it was that sitting still was not easy for him. He wanted to be up and off protecting his kingdom. It killed him to sit in some strange woman’s home while his people searched for him. At least, she assumed that was the thought entering his mind.
He could have left. When he hacked his way through the vines keeping him in, it was his chance to escape her and her crazy idea to abduct the prince. He hadn’t though. Instead, he’d come to find her.
She turned, surprised to find him watching her, curiosity sparking in his gaze. She brushed a hand over her face, thinking something odd had caught his attention. Wet tendrils of hair stuck to her cheeks, and she could only imagine how she appeared.
She leaned forward to examine his wound. Blood no longer flowed from the gash, but instead only seeped out at the corners around the crusted skin and the beginnings of a scab. That was a good sign.
“This would heal a lot quicker if you didn’t do idiotic things like walk out into a storm.” She didn’t meet his eyes as she dabbed at the wound. “Does that hurt?”
“Would you think less of me if I said yes?” He grimaced.
“No. I’d think less of you if you lied to me rather than admitting there was something human about you.”
He sucked in a breath as she continued to probe the wound. “You’re lucky I didn’t have to stitch this.”
He chuckled humorlessly. “Don’t tell me you didn’t want to stick a needle in me.”
She finally snapped her eyes to his. “Only a little.”
He closed his eyes against the pain. “To answer your question about the storm—”
“I didn’t ask a question.”
He continued without missing a beat. “I wouldn’t have gone out into it if you’d stayed safe inside.”
She turned, pulling a strip of fabric free. “Sit up.”
He did as she asked.
“I’ve lived here on my own for a long time.” She scooted closer to wrap the bandage around his torso. “I don’t need a man showing up with some misguided idea of protecting me. You don’t even know me.” She jumped when a crack of thunder shook the cottage.
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
His words surprised her, and she waited for him to say something else. She twisted her arms around him to grab the end of the bandage and only then realized how close her face was to his bare chest. Her eyes drifted to his as she tilted her head back. Gone was the curiosity and the laughter. Instead, the intensity took the breath from her lungs.
He brushed wet bangs out of her face as she sat frozen, unable to move away, unwilling to close the final distance between them.
“When I found you in that cave,” he whispered. “You were crying. Why?”
His words were what she needed to break her trance. A sigh pushed past her lips, and she sat back to finish tying the bandage and examine her work. Satisfied, she rocked back onto her heels and stood.
“Tea?”
“Do you always use tea as a way to avoid uncomfortable questions?” He leaned back against the pillows.
“Do you always ask uncomfortable questions?”
He chuckled, and the sound shot straight through her, sending goose bumps racing down her arms. “I’m trying to understand you. To understand why a young woman would choose to live in isolation rather than among her own people. Why she’d easily associate with La Dame, but only show scorn for Bela’s prince.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, a chill piercing through her still-wet clothing. “I haven’t only shown you scorn.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“I need to change into something dry. Turn away.” She paused. “Please.”
He rolled over in the bed as she struggled out of her tunic and pants, replacing them with a simple green dress. “I’m finished.” She pulled her wet hair into a high tail to keep it from soaking her shoulders.
He studied her for a moment. “Why is it so wrong of me to want to know one of my subjects?”
“I’m not one of your subjects.” She plunked herself down in a chair facing the fire.
“My father is dying.” A sad tone entered his voice. “I will be your king soon.”
She shook her head, pulling her knees up to her chest.
“Aurora—”
“I belong to her!” She hadn’t meant for the words to slip out, but she couldn’t call them back. She buried her face in her arm. “I’m sorry, Phillip. I may live on Belaen soil, but you can never be my king.”