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Aurora nodded. “He promised.”
“Very well, then.” Millie clasped her hands together. “Stay put. I'll return with a few supplies from the house. Oh, and here.” She handed Aurora a cup. “Drink this.”
Aurora eyed the concoction with suspicion, wrinkling her nose at its pungent odor. “What is it?”
“Real medicine,” Millie replied. “Since you’ve lost your gold, the honey won’t help you heal anymore.”
With a hesitant sip, Aurora swallowed the bitter liquid. “Gross.” Then an icy wave coursed through Aurora’s body, and she shivered. “What on earth is that?”
Millie flashed a triumphant smile. “That, princess, is the taste of freedom.”
TRISTAN
The oppressive silence of the dungeon was only broken by the rhythmic clang of metal against metal. Tristan banged an empty decanter against the bars of his cell. Each echo seemed to mock him, amplifying the solitude that surrounded him. But beyond the immediate confines of his cell, his thoughts were consumed by Aurora.
Visions of her, pale and writhing in pain from the scorpion’s sting, haunted him. The memory of her agonized cries echoed louder in his mind than the sound of the rain outside. He had to return to the Dreamworld, to be by her side, to rescue her.
Every fiber of his being, every atom, yearned to hold her close, to soothe her pain, to whisper promises of safety and cover her face in healing kisses.
His throat felt parched, every swallow a painful reminder of his thirst. The empty cup in his hand seemed to taunt him, its hollowness mirroring the void he felt inside. As his fingers traced the cold, smooth surface of the decanter, a memory surfaced—the flower petal that had clung to his jacket from the castle gardens earlier that night.
With trembling hands, he retrieved the slightly crushed petal from his pocket, its once vibrant color now wilted. Carefully, he placed it inside the cup, its delicate fragrance filling the air, a stark contrast to the musty odor of the dungeon.
His eyes, adjusting to the dim light, were drawn to a small window near the ceiling of his cell. A faint glimmer of hope ignited within him. He leaped onto the bed, stretching his arm through the narrow opening. The sensation of cool raindrops caressed his skin. Beneath his fingertips, he could feel the soft, wet earth of what seemed to be the garden.
Carefully positioning the cup on an iron stand over a candle at the edge of the window, he listened intently as the gentle patter of rain began to fill it. The sound was almost musical, a soothing lullaby in the midst of his despair. He left the cup there, bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight, the passage of time marked only by the steady accumulation of water.
Finally, when it began to boil and the petals turned silver, he retrieved the cup, now filled with rainwater infused with the essence of the sundrop flower. Holding it close, he took a moment to savor the scent, a mix of rain and the flower’s unique aroma.
With a silent prayer, he took a sip, the cool liquid a balm to his parched throat. But more than physical relief, he sought a passage back to the Dreamworld, to Aurora. The urgency to protect and heal her was a fire that wouldn’t be quenched.
* * *
The sensation of soft fabric beneath him roused Tristan from his slumber. Blinking away the remnants of sleep, he found himself on a plush sofa. The familiar surroundings of Aurora’s home greeted him, yet something felt amiss. Without a moment’s hesitation, he sprang to his feet, a sense of urgency propelling him toward her bedroom. The sight of the empty bed sent a jolt of panic through him.
“Aurora!” His heart raced as he moved through the house. The opulence he remembered was gone. The rooms, once ornamented with gold and intricate designs, now appeared simpler, almost unrecognizable. The change was jarring, adding to his growing unease.
As he approached one of the rooms, the soft sound of water caught his attention. Pushing the door open, he was met with a sight he hadn’t anticipated. Aurora, her skin glistening with droplets, stood there, momentarily frozen in surprise. A yelp escaped her lips as she hastily grabbed a towel, wrapping it around herself.
Mortified, Tristan spun around, his hand instinctively covering his eyes. “My apologies,” he stammered, his cheeks burning with embarrassment.
A quivering chuckle came from behind him. “It’s all right. You can turn around.”
Taking a deep breath, he slowly turned to face her. While she was now modestly covered by the towel, the flush on her cheeks was evident. He stepped closer, the relief of finding her safe overwhelming him. Gently cupping her face, his eyes peered into hers. He then tangled his fingers through her hair.
“I was terrified something had happened to you,” he whispered, touching his cheek to hers. Her skin was as cold as ice, and he pulled back.
Her lips quivered, and only then did he notice it turning a deep shade of purple and blue. “I’m so cold,” she said, shivering.
Tristan wrapped her up in his arms, trying to warm her with his body heat.
“The venom was burning, but now I’m freezing,” she continued, her voice shaking.
With gentle hands, Tristan helped Aurora into a soft, dry robe, ensuring she was covered and warm. The wet towel was discarded carelessly to the side. He quickly arranged a makeshift bed in front of the roaring fireplace, using cushions and blankets from the nearby sofa. He gently laid her down, the warmth from the flames casting a golden glow on her face. Pulling a thick blanket over them, he nestled close, wrapping her securely in his arms.
Despite the warmth, Aurora’s body shivered against him. The alarming shade of blue tinging her lips grew deeper, and panic welled up within him.
Feeling her weak tug on his shirt, he looked down to meet her eyes.
