Flicking my eyes up, I hold his gaze, no matter how terrifying it is in its beauty. “My prince, I remembered something.”
“Oh?” He looks to the door, his attention as fleeting as the wind.
“It’s about High Prince Keldarion.”
He jerks his whole body back toward me, and his lips curl. “What of Keldarion?”
“We fought him together. On the mountain.”
He raises a brow. “Something of the like.”
My breasts heave with my rapid breath, but I need to get the words out. I won’t survive if he continues to scorn me, continues to avoid me like I’m some mutt he dragged in from the rain.
I belong to Caspian. He must understand that.
Clinging to the torrent of memories, of words and images assaulting my mind, I grab hold of one. “You said you would make me your queen. That the Enchanted Vale would worship me as I worship you.”
He says nothing, simply wavering from foot to foot as if he were more shadow than man.
“But I cannot be your queen if I am left alone day and night to wander your halls like a lost specter. Let me help you. Let me serve you. It is my purpose. Together, we can make you king of all the Enchanted Vale and Keldarion nothing more than a smear of blood upon the snow.”
The Prince of Thorns stays quiet for a very long time. Oh, what I would give to hear the voice within his head, to understand what thoughts race through that glorious mind.
When he finally speaks, Caspian’s voice is raspy and hypnotic. “I suppose I have been treating you like you’re something precious, haven’t I? A treasure locked away in a chest. But if you’re my treasure, then I should wear you like a crown and let all gaze upon you.”
I wet my lips, core tightening at the darkness in his words.
“Kneel.”
My self-constraint gone, I fall to my knees in a clatter, chest heaving, hand knotted in my skirt so as not to clutch at him.
“Kiss my boots.”
They’re covered in mud, but I don’t care. I shower his filthy boots in kisses, caking my face in dirt. The mud tastes woodsy and damp, like rain-soaked leaves and fallen acorns. He’s been outside the Below.
He’s been in Autumn.
Long minutes pass as he lets me clean his boots with my lips, until my knees ache and my tongue tastes of leather and soil. His gaze presses down upon me like a weight.
Finally, he snatches my jeweled collar and hauls me up, cutting off my air until I’m gasping for a breath.
“Do you miss the sunshine?” He lets go of the collar.
My voice is a rasp. “I do not miss the sunshine. I am a creature of darkness and will forever scorn the light as it scorned my prince.”
“Good.” His cape whips my body as he turns away from me. “Because I will be bringing you back into the sun, and you must not fall in love with it. I shall send Heidigog to prepare you. It’s hot where we’re headed.”
I stay rooted to the spot, one hand on the raw skin that my collar dug into, one hand to my mud-caked lips. I shall never wash.
I’m to travel with the Prince of Thorns!
Unconsciously, one of my hands drifts down to my pocket. Oh, there’s something in it.
The ring.
I forgot to give it to him.
Oh well. Perhaps I’ll keep it. Just for a little while.
