Page 83 of Only Flames Remain

“No idea about what?” I asked, confused. “We need to prepare for tonight’s festivities. It would be in both of our best interests to return to our rooms to prepare.” I stepped out of the doorway to allow her to exit, but she remained where she was.

Silence filled the space between us.

“There was something Noor and I discussed. Something I thought might be of interest to you. Only…you never came to see me. The only royals to visit me have been Prince Emrys and King Mavros.”

I shook my head, patience wearing thin. “What are you on about? What piece of information?”

Enora stood, sauntering toward the front of the cell. There was an ethereal quality to the way her skin shimmered despite the lack of natural light in the dungeons. She stopped when she was a mere foot away from me. She inclined her head, analyzing me.

“How is your wound, Prince?”

I reeled back as if slapped.

How could she possibly know about the curse? Only my brothers and Rensford knew. Azhar, and the mage who cursed me. Only five people in this entire realm.

I was breathing hard, chest rising and falling as I held her gaze and panic made the slow climb up my throat to choke me.

Was this the very same mage who stood before me now? Had she changed her form to come here and taunt me? I shook my head, hand pressing to the wound at my side.

She had crossed the Saltale Sea with Aveline. They were friends. They had known each other all their lives. She couldn’t be the mage.

So how did she know? It didn’t make any sense.

When the wound in my side didn’t pulse beneath my touch, I pulled at my tunic, releasing it from beneath my belt to ruck it up. The wound was still there, but it had changed since I had last seen it.

It had begun to close.

It was scabbing over.

For the first time in decades.

I took another step back, mind racing. “Who are you?” My eyes narrowed at her; accusation clear in my gaze.

She smiled, taking a step toward me and over the threshold of the cell. She nodded toward my side. “I see you have begun to heal. Faster than I imagined, too.”

“What is the meaning of this? Are you in league with the mage who cursed me?” My voice was angry. I was practically shouting at her.

Enora was a perfect stranger to me, but I was rattled. I had kept this a secret for a reason. A weak prince would never be allowed to ascend the throne.

She shook her head. “No, not in league with any mage. I merely have access to a lot of information. Sensitive information. If you thought that you had kept the curse a well-hidden secret, you are mistaken.”

“But how—how did you know?” I asked, pulling my shirt back down over the wound.

“Noor.” She replied simply. “I said your brother and father were the only royals who came to visit me, not that they were the only ones entirely.”

I shouldn’t have been surprised that Noor might have known about this. But if she was sitting on this information—the whole castle would have found out about it by now.

What was truly going on here?

Enora shook her head. “I can see your mind reeling, but you are asking yourself the wrong questions.”

I scoffed. “And what questions should I be asking, witch?”

“Not a witch,” she reminded me. “Merely a historian, like my mentor. But there is a reason Noor shared this with me and only me.”

“I don’t—I don’t understand.” The words stuttered out of me.

Enora pressed her lips together. “My, you are a pretty prince. But rather dimwitted, if you ask me.”