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Moria has the decency to wince.
Finally, Sigurd stops. He glances back over one shoulder. “I can’t. You’re bound to me.”
He points to his wrist and the circle of wings there, a matching tattoo to mine. Memories of the night before flash to mind. The rain. The glow of his eyes. His bloody palm around my wrist—the same one that bears this tattoo.
“Remove it.” I hold up my arm, rushing toward him.
“I can’t.”
The statement stops me in my tracks. “What!” My shriek is even more shrill and grating than Moria’s. “You’re lying. Of course you can.”
Moria shakes her head. “Fae can’t lie.”
Sigurd won’t even look at me.
Hysterical laughter creeps up my throat. “I can’t.” Tears burn at the corners of my eyes. “I can’t be stuck here forever.”
If I am, I might as well be dead. For all anyone knows, I am.
“Not forever,” he says, so quiet I almost miss it over the ringing in my ears.
“A day? A week?” I step toward them, pleading with all my soul for them to tell me I can go home.
Moria closes the distance between us and takes my wrist in hers. “It depends upon the strength with which the bond was placed. This…” Her thumb rubs over the tattoo.
The frown on her lips tells me everything I need to know. My knees wobble as she lets me go.
“My cousin bound you.” She glances at him. “Quite strongly.”
Sigurd doesn’t even look at me, just strides to the doors that seem to open all on their own and leaves me standing there.
“I’ll speak with him,” Moria says.
Or at least I think she does. I can barely hear over the silent scream inside my head.
No sooner have the doors closed behind them than I collapse into a heap on the floor.
Chapter 5
It’snotaspaceship,this place I’m stuck in. It might as well be, though, for how far we are off the ground. One look at the snow-capped mountains in the distance and the horrible reality of my situation settles into my chest like a lead weight. This surely isn’t home or anywhere near it. We don’t have mountains in Mississippi, not like this anyway. Rolling hills? Sure. Forests? Oh yeah, plenty of those. But this…
I gaze out at the scene from the balcony off the main room.
This is some crazy Lord of the Rings nonsense. Snowy peaks surround a lush valley spotted with farmland and various structures. This...castle—yeah, I’ll call it a castle—rises from the crest of a mountain, best I can tell anyway, and I’m stuck at the top of it. It’s so far from the valley floor that I can hardly make out anything. You could tell me that cows walk upright here, and I’d believe it.
I pull my arms around myself where I sit on the polished marble floor, feet from the railing. It should be cold this high up, but it’s not. Somehow its pleasantly perfect, but that does not to fix the ache in my chest.
That no-good king stuck me here. The temptation to shout every cuss word I’ve ever heard is almost too much to contain. But pretty girls don’t have ugly mouths. At least, that’s what Gran always told me growing up.
Gran. My heart clenches. Tabitha is probably with her if Gran hasn’t ended up in the hospital from a heart attack. Maybe Aunt Virginia will finally get her stuff together and decide to help out for a change. One can only hope, right?
Please.I pray, for the millionth time in the last however many hours I’ve been stuck alone in here.
The main sitting room is like an open floorplan mansion with a massive sitting area, dining table, bookshelves, and all manner of things, though it’s in no way cramped. The room is too big for that. One whole wall is covered with nothing but gauzy curtains like the ones in the bedroom, with a few support pillars keeping the roof intact. Much of said roof is glass. It must be strong stuff, too, because some freaking huge birds have roosted up there, sitting in nests that provide odd spots of shade to the room.
The doors Sigurd and Moria left through are locked. Figures. As are the large doors on the opposite side too. There are a few other small bedrooms like the one I woke up in. Four in total. Relatively modern-looking bathrooms sit between each pair. Actually, bathroom is an understatement. Each could be a fancy spa—not that I’ve had much experience with those—and smell like the cleanest pool imaginable.
While I was checking them out, someone must have come in because I found my clothes—cleaned—and sitting on the table along with a platter of fruit, bread, cheese, and wine. Basically the best foods ever. And boy, was I hungry. I didn’t even notice until my mouth started to water and my stomach growled louder than thunder.
