“If that’s true?” His head snapped my direction, pinning me in place. His eyes saw everything. “Did you never once think it odd at the amount of times you were fed? That you did not waste away to nothing?”
My mouth opened, but nothing came out. I couldn’t move, could barely breathe.
He continued, regardless. “I’ve personally seen to the care of your cell—much to the annoyance of my brother—making sure the least amount of disease crawled through those bars to infect you. You think no one watched you every time you took your weekly walks? Never in the history of warfare has another prisoner been treated as special as you have been, Princess.”
“Why?”
“Why punish you for your uncle’s mistake? I am more than willing to continue to treat you as a guest and an honorable member of royalty… if you earn it.”
A form of hope snaked through me, slow and deadly. “What do I have to do?”
“Tell me what your uncle’s plan is. Why this sudden desire for peace? Why send his niece as a marriage offering? And after refusal, why send you to spy?”
A muscled in my neck spasmed. “I was refused?”
One brow raised high. “Does that upset you?”
Embarrassment singed my cheeks. I tsked despite my flurried breath. “Of course not.”
“Don’t take it too hard. The king isn’t easily charmed by a pretty face.”
“I couldn’t care less what charms him.”
But Castiel ignored my indignant response and fixed his stare to the flames within the hearth.
“If friendly is what you seek,” he began, his voice a forced calm, “I suggest you be more open with your actions. I’ll ask you one more time. Why are you here?”
I swallowed hard. “And I’ll give you the same answer I gave before, because it’s true. I have no desire to be here. I only wanted to pass through.”
“Very well.” He spun on his heel and quit the room without another word.
I closed my eyes, hating the way my heart settled against my stomach. I heard the door open and shut but didn’t look to the source, knowing who entered. I could almost feel her. “You lied to me.”
“No, I didn’t.” Sameen’s voice was strong, and nearer than I thought. “I said I wouldn’t tell him what I recognize those marks to be, and I didn’t. You must be the one to tell him what they truly are.”
I set my jaw. And that would never happen.
I opened my eyes to glare, but her sympathetic expression instantly took the pleasure from the act.
She stood over me with my discarded tray, almost too close for comfort. “Shall I feed you?”
I pished my annoyance. Again, my stomach growled, unaware of anything other than its own discomfort. She placed the tray in my lap and removed the lid to the stew. I sighed and took a bite of potato and steak, barely managing to hold back the groan that bubbled to my lips. Every mouthful was more heavenly than the first. Tears clouded my vision and as I ate, Sameen worked my damp hair into a braid.
By the time she finished, I had scooped my last blissful bite of stew. She watched me closely. Was it pity she felt for me to summon the healer, to bring me the stew, and that now emanated from those soft brown eyes? Her soul radiated goodness—she was nothing like Pala.
An easy target. The thought danced wickedly across my thoughts. My face flushed red from the shame, but my mind opened.
I lowered my voice, casting my eyes to the floor. “Thank you. For your kindness.”
Her movements slowed as she pulled down the comforter for me. She didn’t look me in the eyes when she answered. “I don’t need your thanks, but is there anything else I can get you before retiring?”
My spoon scraped against the bottom of the bowl and I stared at it for a moment before meeting Sameen’s bemused gaze.
“Can I—can I have a little honey-butter for the bread? It’s been so long since I’ve had anything so good.” When she neared, I reached for the hem of her sleeve, gently tugging on it. Please?
She blinked. “Of course, dear. I don’t know why they didn’t bring it in the first place.” She spun on her heel, heading toward the door.
“Can you bring a knife to spread it?” I asked in an even softer voice.
She paused, her hand on the grip of the door. She gazed over her shoulder, then smiled at me. “Well, of course I will. How else would you spread honey-butter?”
Runaway
No matter how hard I tried to suppress it, guilt worked at my gut, twisting a full stomach into painful knots. I tucked the thick butter knife into one pocket of my dress and the small loaf of bread into the other. Sameen had provided me with a nightgown still folded and untouched on a nightstand, as well as a simple gray frock for the next day, no doubt from one of the maids closest to my size. The slippers she gave were too thin to fit properly, but they were better than nothing and would stretch.
She would be punished for aiding my escape, but I didn’t have time for guilt. My uncle would soon be on his way.
There were no rules when it came to survival.
But why did I deserve to survive?
I gripped the nightstand when a wave of grief nearly swept my feet from beneath me. My fingers pressed against the wood as I heaved shuddering breaths of too-thick air. My arms and legs shook with emotion I thought to have been destroyed long before. Tears stung my eyes and I groaned, trying to force them away, but still they came. I swallowed against the pain and dropped to my knees.
I tipped my head back to stop the flow of emotion.
Did I deserve to survive? I didn’t know, but if there was any type of justice in the world, there were others that needed to die for their deeds before Death claimed me as his. Confusion, fear, and determination warred, but when I had cried every last tear, determination rose triumphant.
My uncle had not won yet.
I dragged the blankets off the bed to the floor and cocooned within their warmth, waiting until the main candlelights were extinguished along my corridor. I counted down the hours.
I had left my kingdom, my home, using methods I said I would never use. It was the only way that had finally worked. Every other attempt had failed. I had discovered the ability after I turned fourteen—way past the age it should have manifested.
If gifted, magic bloomed in a child as early as six years old, but never past puberty.
And I was supposed to be gifted. Up until my first day of womanhood, my uncle’s behavior changed from patient persistence to manic single-mindedness.
“Your father was a gifted magician. It’s your duty to defend your country like he once did. Magic flows through the Anouk family veins. It must be within you.”
“Then why don’t you possess it?”
The question was an innocent enough mistake, but one I made sure never to repeat. When my magic finally surfaced, I did my best to tuck it away. I hated it just as much as it must have hated me to let me suffer as it did. Why else would it have stayed away so long?
I shook my head to rid my thoughts of such memories. Like it or not, I had no other choice but to use the cursed ability. Still, doing so on Sameen grated. I had used the same trick on Anolyn’s prison guards, coaxing more food and water when I could without drawing attention or suspicion. Now, I reached out, utilizing a different but comparable magic, sensing the new guard beyond my door. The connection at first was weak. It was easier when I knew the target, understood the way they ticked.