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Her focus snapped back to the direction of his degrading tone. “What did you say?” She asked the question slowly, her brain already repeating his words and overlaying it with a theory that made no sense at all. His voice was a little off from what she remembered, but how was she to know he couldn’t throw his voice? That was a profession in the world she’d come from, after all.
He huffed out one final laugh, like a short bark, and a spark from the darkness where she estimated him to be shot into the circle of dwindling flame. The turquoise immediately crackled louder, unnaturally colored flames rearing up to cast eerie shadows on the dark surface of what Rochelle was positive were cave walls.
The scene was distracting.
“There are things I need to know about you, Rochelle,” her captor said. “Things we can only discuss here, where we’re properly alone.”
The more he talked, the more she feared her theory was correct, despite all the lack of logic and the pure impossibility. Still, she swallowed down her building fear. “Talk as much as you want. The Sentry will come for me.”
“I imagine by now he’s already begun his search.” He moved closer to the edge of the invigorated fire, his outline becoming semi-visible. It was as if he were taunting her, challenging her. “He won’t consider how far out of range you already are, and I promise you, he won’t look here.”
The level of confidence in her captor’s tone was immensely disconcerting. Rochelle couldn’t help but tug at her bindings again. “I don’t think you know him well enough to be sure of that.”
“Funny. I question whether a foreigner who’s been here only a few months can really say she knows anything at all.”
“Unseal me,” Rochelle said, a surge of defiant anger sparking in her chest, “and I’ll show you what I know.”
Her abductor hummed. “Is it wise to be threatening me?”
“You expected me to cry?”
His profile moved out of sight again. “How did you come to Yafae, foreigner?”
The breath rushed from her and Rochelle gaped in his direction. “Are you serious? You kidnapped me and tied me up to ask methat?” Then this was some jackass with a discrimination problem. Fantastic.
“Let me rephrase,” he said, his tone a foreboding calm. “I know the story you’ve given. I know it to be false. Now, here, you will tell me the truth.”
Her heart lodged in her throat at those unexpected words. Whether he was who she sort of suspected or not, how could he know such a thing? Why would anyone even suspect it?No.He hadn’t accused her of being from another world. He was accusing her of being dishonest about how she’d crossed into Yafae. That wasn’t the same thing. She licked her lips and opted to stall while she attempted to scramble up a half-decent story. “Let me get this straight. You saw a yellow-haired woman walking around your town and decided I was a liar? Why should—”
Suddenly his hand was around her throat and he’d pushed her head into the cave wall. “I can smell it on you,” he snarled. “The spell I cast so many moons ago.” His hand squeezed. “Tell me, or cease to breathe.”
The … spell?Even when his grip eased, Rochelle struggled to suck in enough breath to process that declaration. She stared, wide-eyed and far too close for comfort, into the dark blue eyes of the very man who’d sent Aric to Awora—Denham, Elder Prince of Yafae.
Chapter Ten
“H-how,” Rochelle started, her voice choked from fear and his physical restraint, “how did you—”
Denham squeezed again, cutting her off. “I’ll be asking the questions, woman. If you wish to avoid pain, you’ll start answering.”
She sucked in a desperate breath when he finally released her throat and stepped far enough back that she once again couldn’t make out his details. Not that it mattered anymore. Tears stung her eyes as she considered the weight of her situation.
Could it possibly be true? CouldPrince Denhamreally be responsible for her strange cross-world transportation? She had so many questions about that, beginning with how he would even know of such a concept and settling heavily on whether or not he was then also responsible for what had happened to Aric.
“I am not feeling overly patient tonight,” Denham warned. The formality that had structured his voice when he’d come to Aric’s estate days before was gone, and his tone was rougher, darker. That was where her hesitation had come in. But now that she’d seen his face, she was sure she heard the same man underneath the change in tone, too. As unpleasant as this version was, it actually suited him more.
Rochelle closed her eyes and willed her heart to steady. She wasn’t afraid of the pain he threatened. She only didn’t want to push him so far that he killed her before Aric even arrived. “I’m not feeling overly motivated, either,” she said at length. She narrowed her eyes in his direction. “You want me to tell you all my so-called secrets? Why, are you taking responsibility for abducting me and leaving me stranded and naked in a field where I could have been raped and murdered?”
She didn’t see the hand until a heartbeat before it collided with her face, sending her head crashing into the unforgiving wall. No magic enhanced his slap and while the hit stung sharply, it was the impact with the jagged rock that hurt. It was the impact that tore into her skin and left hot trails of sticky blood rolling, slowly, down her cheek and jaw.
“You think you’re being clever,” Denham said, “but you’re only elongating your misery. We are nowhere near Awora, or Emyr. The King’s hound won’t find you unless he commits to upending all of Yafae—and at that point, I’ll have plenty of time to move you.” He grabbed her jaw and jerked her face forward again. “In the meantime, I can easily heal wounds like these if they prohibit you from speaking efficiently. Which also means I can do that much more damage.”
Her stomach clenched and Rochelle furrowed her brow in a glare. “Aric can track the energies of those he’s familiar with.” It was a lie, or at least, she had no knowledge of any such feat. There was always the off-chance he actually could, but she suspected he’d have already found her if that were the case. She just wanted to rattle the bastard a little.
Her strategy seemed to backfire when Denham laughed. He leaned back and laughed loud enough for the beginnings of an echo to catch in the cave. “That was good,” he finally said. “I would have believed you immediately, considering the subject, with that fierce expression on your face. If I weren’tme.” He reached out again and tipped her chin to make sure she met his stare. “You are incapable of lying to me, Rochelle Bailey. I’ll forgive you that attempt, but do so again and I’ll have to hurt you.”
She felt her mouth run dry as he released her and retreated into the darker part of the barely lit cave. What did he mean by that? She hadn’t had any trouble uttering the words, so it wasn’t as if she were under some kind of truth-serum-type compulsion. He had to be bluffing.But…He really hadn’t seemed like he was. She had the distinct impression that, somehow, he’d meant exactly what he said.
Rochelle licked her lips. “If you want to know my truth so bad, why not just summon me to the castle and demand it? No one could have stopped you.”
