Page 85 of Heart’s Rescue

The knock comes maybe three hours later. Folwynn has sullenly finished off another two bottles of wine while brooding about how horribly he’s being mistreated by the Kingdom of the Fall, and how horribly he’s being mistreated by me. I made sympathetic noises and tried to stay out of reach as he complained about how bored he’s been and how I would never in a million years understand how much he’s suffered. I also devoured the entire spread of food. Folwynn didn’t offer me any of the wine, of course, and I didn’t ask for any; I need to keep my head clear. Now, a second knock echoes through the room. I stare at the lone door while my pulse hammers through my head.

“Why are they knocking?” I whisper.

Folwynn said we’re prisoners in here. He’s told me he’s locked in a dungeon. Folwynn shrugs at me and takes another swig, this time right from the bottle. The door opens.

It’s Aloserin. He nods at Folwynn, then at me. I sweep to my feet, the knife pressed against my right arm and hidden beneath Rowan's sweater.

“I understand you’ve been injured,” Aloserin says.

“Oh, thass rich,” Folwynn slurs, waving the mostly empty wine bottle in Aloserin’s direction. “You can see how I’ve been injured.”

Aloserin raises an eyebrow. “I was speaking to the lady.”

Folwynn hiccups, and I remember the time he vomited red wine down the front of my golden silk equinox dress. Mother punished me for not getting out of his way.

“I’m fine,” I say.

Aloserin steps to the side and a woman walks past him carrying a covered tray. My heart catches in my throat as the fragrance hits me. It’s just like Rowan described: not good, exactly. Just strong.

“Ugh,” Folwynn says, making a face. “What’n the stars is that?”

Flowers. I know even before the woman lifts the lid, revealing a stack of flowers. They’re big, like Rowan said. Big and purple, with a white center and an explosion of yellow tendrils in the middle.

“You know what these are?” Aloserin asks, watching me.

I nod. My chest aches.

“Where is Rowan?” I whisper.

“The hell is a Rowan?” Folwynn replies.

“I sent him home,” Aloserin answers.

Liar. My heart catches in the back of my throat, and my eyes sting. Rowan and I broke into the palace. That’s trespassing. That’s punishable by death in the Kingdom of the Summer. They locked me up because they need my heart, but what in the voids have they done with Rowan?

“I understand if you don’t want me touching you again,” Aloserin continues in his level, perfectly reasonable tone. “But, please, let Lythienne here treat your arm.”

“The hell’s your arm?” Folwynn says. He’s swinging his head back and forth between me and Aloserin like he’s having a hard time staying focused on either one of us.

This is it. There’s never going to be a better time. I take a deep breath, then gently pull off Rowan's sweater and the undershirt beneath it. Then I’m standing before Aloserin and the woman with the tray and Prince Folwynn in just the thin strip of cotton I’d wrapped around my breasts back in the cabin in Fringe.

I glance down at my chest. Ink-black tendrils of void-touch now stretch all the way across my shoulder to snake beneath the cloth cradling my breasts.

“Holy stars!” Folwynn screams.

He launches himself out of his chair, then staggers backward until he hits the wall.

“The stars is that on your arm?” Folwynn asks, wiping his hand across his mouth. “Is it con— contag— catching?”

Ignoring him, I pull the little knife from the folds of Rowan's sweater and then let the sweater drop to the floor. Aloserin’s eyes widen when he sees the blade. The woman with the tray takes a step backward.

Without looking away from Aloserin and his cold, black eyes, I line the knife up with the gap in my ribs just below my left breast.

“I need to see Rowan,” I say. “I need to know that he’s safe. I need to see him walk through the castle gates unharmed.”

Aloserin opens his mouth.

“And if I don’t, I’m going to drive this knife through my ribs and ruin my heart before your king can have it,” I finish.