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“I left enough sensation in your foot that you’ll feel the pain when I twist off your toes,” Denham said. “You really want to get a handle on that mouth of yours, woman.”
She barely understood him over her racing, panicking heart and spiraling mind. How was she supposed to get out of this? Surely handing over the information Denham wanted wasn’t the answer. But with her magic sealed and her body weakened, what other choice did she have?
“I am aware your world has something like mechanical advancements that are your supplement to magic,” Denham said. “Is that what you referred to? This … technology?”
Her body trembled from the raw, pulsing edge of pain still centered on her burned foot. He must have controlled the fire perfectly because it felt as though her nerves had become more sensitive than they had any right to be, when she’d have thought they would have been seared off. She didn’t dare try wriggling her toes, but even just letting her foot rest where it lie was painful, like scraping sandpaper over a bleeding, blistering sore.
“I am not in a patient mood, wretch,” Denham said, raising his voice. “Answer.”
Rochelle whimpered, nails digging into her palms for lack of anything else to grab onto, and squeezed her eyes shut.Aric…“S-social media,” she said, “is a c-concept.” She swallowed and winced, but immediately opened her mouth and tried again. “It’s a … destination—”
A sudden rush of fresh, too-crisp air cut her off and blew her hair into her face. Strands of dirtied blonde stuck to the bloodied mess beneath her nose, but Rochelle hardly cared. The air had been painfully stagnant moments earlier, and though no new light came with it, she knew this was her only chance.
The vague outline of her abductor moved away, positioning himself a bit closer to his suddenly wavering turquoise fire.
“So, this is where you’ve taken her.” Aric’s voice was cool and as lethal as Rochelle had ever heard it. She’d never heard anything more beautiful.
Denham scoffed, the sound a grating spit against the darkness. “I didn’t expect you so soon, but no matter. You’ve a damsel to save, dog.”
For a moment, that struck Rochelle as an odd thing to say. She registered the unfamiliar sound of cracking in the rocks directly overhead at the same time as a possibility occurred to her that seemed far too plausible to deny. The turquoise flame wasn’t sealing her magic—it was his escape route. Perhaps also the method he’d used to get her however far he’d taken her. A sense of urgency flooded her veins and Rochelle hurried to spit the hair from her mouth, wanting to be articulate. She knew she’d get only one chance.
The cavern wall she had half fallen against shuddered and a series of sizable boulders rolled free in succession, threatening to crush her. She startled, the breath she’d drawn to speak rushing from her uselessly, and the first jagged rock bounced off her skin. Then the next. One by one, each rolled clear, none actually making contact.
Then bright, blinding turquoise lit the cavern with an audiblewhooshand the faintest scent of burning timber.
Rochelle could only duck her head and squint against the suddenly obtrusive light for the few sparse seconds it lasted. Then it was over and the cave plunged into darkness again, deeper and richer than before. The flickering flame that had offered at least some shading before was also gone. And in her gut, Rochelle knew Denham had gone with it.
“Damn,” Aric said, the word barely a whisper. A moment later a soft, pale-yellow ring lifted off the ground and rose up and up, slowly brightening, until the cavern depths were semi-visible. Enough, at least, to function within. Aric was already striding toward her, a severe frown on his face.
The sight of that frown was enough for Rochelle to wish for the darkness again. She could imagine how she looked. She swallowed awkwardly, discovering there was still some hair in her mouth, and her whole body slumped forward.I survived.Sometimes that alone had to be the goal, right?
She’d really hoped she was past that point of her life.
The unidentified bindings constraining her fell away as Aric lowered to a knee, and with a sweep of his hand that she only glimpsed, they dissolved entirely. But her arms had been bound so tightly for so long they only half released, even with the sweet relief of freedom.
Then Aric pressed his fingers to her hairline at her forehead and trailed them around, gently easing her hair back into some semblance of place, and a new kind of warmth swept through her.
The pain stopped, all at once. Air—crisp, cool, and dry—found its way up her nostrils on her next breath. The taste of blood disappeared from her throat and her tongue. The aching in her muscles eased. And her foot … felt normal.
Tears rushed her eyes and Rochelle dropped her forehead to his shoulder without a thought, finally pulling her arms around to latch onto him. She would have to explain. She understood that, just as she understood that doing so would mean telling him her story earlier than she’d intended. But it was necessary. He needed to know what kind of a man Prince Denham really was. If he believed her at all.
****
Aric had transcended every known stage of anger he’d experienced the moment he’d finally lain eyes on Rochelle in that dark cave. Beaten and bound, bleeding and burned, her magic sealed and her body bruised. If she hadn’t been in the line of fire, he wouldn’t have hesitated to vaporize every other living thing within that cave. That would have stopped her assailant from escaping.
But whoever the shrouded man had been, he’d been prepared. Which meant he had also been aware that she kept powerful company. Aric had suspected her abductor had to have known about their connection, but he’d mostly thought she was being held as a hostage for him. Who in Yafae could have a grudge against a woman who had spent nearly all of her time at his estate?
The man’s clear proficiency with magic ruled out any possibility of him being some wayward assassin from Zrynia. Aric could have accepted their use of a magic-sealing rope, but the layered disguise that distorted their identity from Aric’s gaze required skill. And then there was the fiery portal he’d leapt into. That was not an everyday spell. Aric didn’t recall having learned any such thing at the Academy, even.
Who does that leave?
“Welcome home, sir,” Tinsley said as Aric strode through the foyer. To his credit, the elderly butler’s briefly curious expression immediately turned to concern. “Is Miss Rochelle all right?”
Aric glanced down at the woman in his arms. She’d passed out from the emotional turmoil of her ordeal after only a handful of minutes crying against him, so he’d taken the opportunity to carry her home without argument. “Physically, yes, I’ve healed her wounds,” he said. “But the emotional scars will take longer.”
Tinsley inclined his head. “Did you forget your luggage in Awora?”
“I sent it ahead.” The detour had been annoying, but necessary. He’d repacked what little they’d respectively unpacked and left Tora a note of reassurance and apology that he knew she’d find in the morning. The note contained an extra night’s expenses for her worries.
