Flynn whirled me away, spinning me into the crush of dancers. Killian took one step toward us, but someone slid in front of him.
“No more sad faces, Genny,” Flynn said, twirling us so quickly his handsome features blurred. He held me tight against his chest, and I let myself shut his eyes.
It was easier to obey Flynn when he put things so simply.
“Okay.”
The lights came on at million-watt strength, wrenching me so hard from my dream I landed, painfully, back in reality.
Another day had begun.
Imogen
Since being imprisoned, time no longer held meaning. There was light and darkness. Awake and asleep. And that was it.
I’d resigned myself to it. This was my lot in life, and whether I deserved it or not, I no longer had control over my own destiny. Maybe I never had.
Yet, today was different.
After seeing the princes yesterday...after dreaming about them last night...time seemed to have meaning once again. As the minutes ticked by, my anxiety rose, and I couldn’t quite pinpoint why. It was like I could feel something hovering over the horizon—the metaphorical one, obviously, since I hadn’t seen the sun in a year—but I didn’t know what.
I wanted to believe it was a sense of doom, because the alternative was worse. I couldn’t allow myself to hope. Not when I’d already embraced the hopelessness that was Nightmare Penitentiary.
But I’d caught a whiff of morning dew again, and with it came optimism like I hadn’t felt in so long. Maybe it was real. Maybe it was my imagination. Either way, it made today different.
The slot in my door flipped open, and I assumed my barely edible dinner had arrived. But instead of the expected tray, I saw a book sliding through it.
Jumping up, I ran to the door and peeked through the slot. The prison librarian crouched on the other side, his grin wide behind his scraggly white beard.
“I don’t have much time,” he whispered. Since I was technically in solitary confinement, he wasn’t supposed to visit me. But he didn’t mind breaking the rules every once in a while. “I heard you had visitors yesterday.”
Of course, he had. Pretty sure there was very little that went on inside NP that he didn’t hear about it. It was a talent, really.
I scowled, trying to communicate that my visitors hadn’t been friendly ones.
He chuckled. “You’d think you’d be happier about a trio of Fair Folk princes traveling all the way from Tuatha to see you. Guess you’re not a royal-watcher.” After glancing both ways, he leaned closer. “Regardless, you’re the talk of the prison.”
I wanted to mention that he was probably responsible for the lion’s share of the gossip, but beyond rolling my eyes, there wasn’t a good way to convey it.
Pushing the book closer to my side of the slot, he added, “And, I discovered this book in the library this morning. Can’t imagine where it came from, but it’s clearly for you.” He winked. “Enjoy.”
And with that, he was gone.
I took the book and walked back to my bed. When I saw the title of the leather-bound volume, I almost smiled. Almost.
It was a book of Irish folk and fairy tales. I’d always thought it was funny that mortals were so obsessed with attempting to turn fact into fiction. If only they were able to look past what they didn’t understand, they’d see right through all of our magic and glamours. Deep down, they must not want to believe.
Killian and I had discussed the phenomenon on many occasions. Killian.
I looked down at the book again. Was it possible...?
Flipping through it, I searched for a note or some indication that he’d left it for me. But there was nothing.
Hope and then disappointment. The kind of disappointment that could shatter my already fragile soul.
This was why resignation was so much better.
Still, wherever the book had come from, I would take it, especially after my last one had been confiscated. Hopefully, the guards wouldn’t bother to search my room for at least a week.
Sitting with my back against the cold, concrete wall, I opened the book to the first story and began reading. As my collar buzzed in warning, I forced myself to hold in my scoff at how a fairy woman was portrayed. Her blonde hair hung in ringlets, a perfect complement to her glittery, translucent wings. I was half-surprised she wasn’t carrying a wand that scattered pixie dust.
As soon as I turned the page, the scent of good magic hit me again. But this time, it was much, much stronger. I laid the book on the bed and stood, searching my tiny cell for the source.
Yet, as always, every crevice of the sealed room was bare. I shook my head, not understanding. Maybe I was beginning to lose my mind. The doctor hadn’t mentioned that as a side effect of my super special “necklace,” but I wouldn’t have been surprised. Most would find it a fitting end for someone who had driven the king mad. Allegedly.
Moving back to the bed, a shimmer of light caught my eye.
Then, Ronan and Killian stood no more than a foot in front of me, their large bodies taking up all of the available space. And all of the available air, I realized, as I tried and failed to inhale a shocked breath.
I eyed Ronan’s hand, which rested on the gilded hilt of his sword. They were here to kill me. That had to be it.
Seeing me in hell hadn’t been good enough for the brothers. They intended to finish me off once and for all.
Maybe it was for the best. It wasn’t like I was living anymore. I merely existed.
As soon as the thought flashed through my mind, I rejected it, retreating until my back was up against the wall. Both figuratively and literally.
If they were here to kill me, so be it. But I wouldn’t go willingly.
I wanted to scream at them. Ask why they couldn’t leave me well enough alone. Why they insisted on torturing me. But I couldn’t even release a squeak, much less a scream. I was mute and defenseless and pissed.
Ronan’s lips twitched, though there was no amusement in his eyes. They were the same shade of blue as Killian’s, but you’d never know it by the way they seared into me, blacker than onyx.
He bowed, leaning toward me so his hair fell into his face and caught in the stubble along his jaw. “Have something to say, little one?” Ronan’s voice was as low and raspy as ever, but I wasn’t fooled by it or the old nickname. There was nothing soft about the statement. His hate for me was absolute; I could feel it.
Screw you.
As much as I wanted to say the words aloud, I was careful to keep any intent to speak at bay. We didn’t need a repeat of yesterday. One demonstration of the collar’s usefulness had been plenty.
“No need for such language.”
It took a second for his words to sink in, but when they did, I stared at him, dumbfounded. You can hear my thoughts?
I can when you direct them at me like that.
What? How? When?
“The book,” Ronan said aloud. “We enchanted it in order to connect with you. The spell allows us to speak with you, and for us to hear you.”
I looked to Killian, who was watching the exchange with his arms crossed over his broad chest. You can hear me too?
He nodded. We’ve tapped into quite a bit of magic since you’ve been in here. His brows drew together. It’s been necessary as we’ve prepared for the upcoming King’s Tournament.