Page 84 of Heart’s Rescue

“My sister’s what?” Folwynn’s face wrinkles in confusion then settles into an arrogant pout. “Oh. Oh, no, I didn’t do that.”

His tone implies I’m a fool to even suggest he was trying to rescue his sister’s heart.

“Then, why?” I ask.

I try to lift my hand, but the best I can manage is a weak wave of my fingers. A dark expression settles over the prince’s face.

“Akkar called me a coward.”

Akkar. One of Folwynn’s nastiest friends.

“He said I wouldn’t dare enter that canyon in the Dragon Pass after dark,” Folwynn continues, with a sharp laugh. “But I showed him!”

So it was a dare. Folwynn never intended to end up in the Lands Below. He must have entered the same canyon I did and then fallen down here, just like me. Only he fell with a crown on his head and a sword on his hip, and he killed the first three people he met. I can’t explain why that thought makes my heart sink, but it does.

“I need to speak with the king,” I say.

Folwynn frowns, looking confused again.

“Sure,” he replies. “You know I can get you in to see him anytime. He’s my grandfather, after all.”

“No,” I say. “This king. The King of the Lands Below, of the Kingdom of the Fall.”

“Oh, right.”

Folwynn sighs, then drains his goblet. His eyes travel over my semi-upright body in a way that makes me feel like ice is melting over my skin.

“Well, now that you’re here, at least I’ve got something to do,” he announces.

His right hand reaches between his legs, and he starts rubbing himself through his pants. Panic squeezes my chest. This is how it goes, of course. Folwynn gets what he wants. Always. Bent over a chair, on my back in the garden, in the elegant guest room. Folwynn panting above me, slamming into me, the dull ache of pain radiating from the place where our bodies are joined. My mother’s voice rings through my head: You will call him beloved.

Now I can see the outline of Folwynn’s stiff cock pressing against the green velvet of his pants. He starts to drunkenly fumble with the lacings, and I realize he’s about to ask me to bend over. Or, if I can’t stand, to just go down on the floor. My throat closes and my vision blurs. I look down at my body, at Rowan's torn, mended, and blood-stained blue sweater wrapped around my chest.

I can’t. I can’t do this.

“No,” I gasp.

Folwynn looks up from his lacings, his face wrinkled in confusion, and I’m reminded of all the times I tried to explain his assignments to him, tried to tell him what his tutor wanted.

“Don’t,” I say. My voice shakes, but I press on. “Don’t touch me.”

“Ugh, fine,” Folwynn huffs. “What’s got you all pissy?”

Scowling at me, Folwynn abandons his lacings, pours himself another goblet of wine, and settles back into his chair with another loud sigh. Relief pours through my body like hot water; was it always that easy? All those times pressed on my back in the garden, bent over a lacquered table in the castle, leaning out a window with my skirts pushed up around my shoulders, could I have just said no?

Folwynn slurps his wine noisily. I turn in the chair, running my eyes over the room. There’s an opulent curtained bed that someone, definitely not Folwynn, must have made this morning. There’s a washbasin with towels, a sitting desk, and a large table laden with trays of food. My stomach groans at the sight of grapes and cheese, four different kinds of bread, and a half dozen little jars of jam and butter.

I bite my lip and try to focus. I need to meet with the king, yes, but I also need some form of leverage. I promised my heart in exchange for Rowan. Then that man Aloserin stepped forward, told me we could talk about it, and reached for my hand. And then—

Darkness. Nothing but darkness until I woke up here. Aloserin must have sleep magic, or something like it. Voids, how did I not see that coming? I squeeze my hands on the sides of the chair and brace against the floor, testing to see if I can stand yet.

My legs tremble like willow branches in a storm. With a sigh, I sink back into the chair. Think, curse it. The last time I saw Rowan, he was being lifted on a cloud of blue magic. He might be dead for all I know.

But, no, why would Aloserin accept my offer if he was dead? My teeth sink into my lower lip so hard it hurts. Did Aloserin accept my offer? Or did he just decide to throw me in with Folwynn and use my heart with or without my consent?

Stars. I narrow my eyes at the table full of food. There’s bread and butter, and that means knives. I push back against the chair, force myself to my feet, and stagger across the room. Yes. There’s a tiny silver knife winking in the candlelight next to the platter of bread and cheese. I grab it and smile.

Knives mean leverage.