“Dyre,” I hiss more urgently. I shake his shoulder insistently. “Come on, wake up. This isn’t funny.”
Like the previous night, he doesn’t respond to my voice or my touch. Concern filters through me as I place my index and middle fingers against Dyre’s throat and feel for his pulse. It thrums steadily against my fingers, and I can see his chest rising and falling gently as Dyre breathes.
My knees give out beneath me and I collapse onto the floor, slapping the mattress beside Dyre’s head in anguish. “Please Freya,” I beg the goddess who started it all, “you gave me this extraordinary man, and yes I screwed it up, but please, if you have it in you, bring him back to me. Just let him wake up, if only for a minute.”
I grasp Dyre’s hand in mine, rubbing my thumb over the back of his hand. Dyre swore that I had magic inside me, Siglynn hinted at the same, and everywhere I’ve gone people have treated me like I’m someone to worship or fear. If that’s true then why can’t I wake Dyre from this catatonic sleep?
Perhaps I haven’t tried hard enough, the thought occurs to me. With renewed determination I squeeze Dyre’s hand tighter in my own, wondering how exactly I would go about channeling magic. Channeling all of my thoughts on Dyre and envisioning him opening his eyes and waking up, I try to spark off the magic inside me. Excitement bubbles up inside me when a tingling sensation races through my fingertips until I realize the tingling is coming from losing circulation in my hand from holding on too tightly to Dyre’s hand.
Feeling defeated, I crawl onto the bed beside Dyre and tuck my body close to his side. How I wish he would subconsciously wrap his arm around my shoulder and tug me closer, but Dyre remains bereft and lifeless in his sleep. Loud, embarrassing sobs take over my body as I cry into Dyre’s shoulder. “If you love me at all, please wake up. I can’t lose you this way, not to that beast.”
I hear a slight shuffling on the other side of the wall and hold my breath. What if the door beside Dyre’s belongs to the troll-faced princess? What if she’s heard everything I’ve said or done over the course of the past two nights? It would explain her appearance with the guards this morning. I hold my breath until little black spots begin to prick the edges of my vision but I don’t hear another sound from the room on the other side of the wall. Maybe I imagined it all.
I sniffle before urging myself to toughen up. I didn’t come all this way and endure all that I did to give up this easily. The help I received from the people I’ve encountered along the way is not going to be for naught, I will think of some way to get Dyre out of here.
By the time the first light appears in the sky outside Dyre’s window the only thing I’ve come up with is that obviously Dyre has been drugged. There’s no other reason he would sleep as deeply or as silently as he has these past two nights.
The princess and the troll guards return to remove me from the room and the princess’s eyes glitter with hatred when she spies me tucked up beside Dyre’s still form.
“Get her out of here,” the princess orders, shaking her claw at me.
The guards are only too happy to oblige her as one heaves me over his shoulder and begins down the stairwell, grunting as he carries me. Halfway down he “accidentally” drops me and watches me fall down the remaining stairs, my head, arms, and back thumping violently against each step. I land at the foot of the stairs, staring up at the guards but not giving them the satisfaction of knowing that my ribs feel like they’re on fire and a sudden headache blooms behind my eyes.
They take their time descending the rest of the stairs before dragging me through the castle corridors like I’m a ragdoll. This time when they throw me from the gatehouse I land next to a boulder, my leg twisting awkwardly with a sickening crunch.
Chapter Eighteen
I regain enough strength to crawl to the boulder I left my pack behind, or at least I think it’s the boulder I left my stuff behind. My pack and my shield are nowhere to be seen. I frantically scan the area but don’t see anything but boulders and dead grass.
I slump down against one of the massive boulders and cover my face with my hands. I’m reaching my breaking point but I will not snap. I repeat that thought over and over in my head as my eyes flutter closed and my body screams out in pain.
When I reopen my eyes I find myself back in that same round room in Magda’s cottage. She stands over me looking more worried than I’ve seen her in the short time I’ve known her.
“Magda,” I whisper through split lips. My mouth hurts as I try to form words. “I can’t find my pack, my shield.”
“Hush, milady,” Magda places a silencing finger to my lips. “You’re still very weak. Don’t worry about your belongings, I found them and brought them back here so they would not be discovered.”
“How did you find me?” I ask, my voice coming out hoarse from the screaming I wasn’t aware I’d been doing when I fell down the stairwell.
“The raven came and brought me to you,” Magda explains.
“The raven?” I echo, unsure what she’s talking about.
“Yes,” Magda nods, gesturing to an elegant raven cleaning himself on the windowsill, “my pet raven. My familiar really, he sees what I see and vice versa.”
“Oh,” I mumble stupidly.
“You’re seriously injured, milady,” Magda pauses like she’s afraid to ask, “What happened to you?”
“Dyre slept all night again. Think it’s some kind of potion or spell. Guards came, threw me down the stairs,” I explain in fragmented sentences.
“Your leg is broken in two places and your ribs are bruised, not to mention the dozens of cuts and bruises over the rest of your face and body. It’s a miracle your neck was not broken in the fall,” Magda gives me a once over as she straightens the blanket I lay beneath.
“Can you give me something to mend it all quickly?” I request. “I need to try to see Dyre again tonight.”
“Tonight? You jest, surely?” Magda’s eyes are wide with incredulousness.
I shake my head, instantly regretting the movement as a wave of vertigo hits me. “You said the Queen would only be gone for three days. This is my last chance to free Dyre before she returns. Please Magda; I need your help to heal my broken body.”
Magda sighs, “I will do what I can, but I cannot guarantee that you will not still have aches and pains.”
“I can handle that as long as I can move,” I reply.
“I want you to rest while I prepare the healing tonic,” Magda gives in. Muttering to herself she adds, “I’m going to need the strongest one in my repertoire.”
I manage to grin appreciatively as Magda waves her hand in my direction dismissively and stomps out of the room.
The sun reaches the middle of the sky by the time Magda returns. I’ve drifted in between waking and sleep as my body tries to mend itself. Magda’s raven stares at me from his perch on the windowsill, waiting for the slightest moan of distress so he can alert his mistress.
Magda bustles into the room carrying a steaming bowl and a silver spoon. “You’re lucky this tonic isn’t the type that needs steeping until the next full moon.”
“Even if it were I’m confident you would have figured something out,” I grin humorously.
“We’ll see how funny you think it is after you taste it,” Magda retorts smugly.
“Let me try it,” I reach for the spoon but Magda pulls it back.
“Uh-uh,” Magda waves the spoon at me. “The only way this tonic will work is if you drink it all, no matter how foul it tastes.”
“I promise I won’t spit it out, no matter how disgusting,” I vow. “Out of curiosity, what are the ingredients?”
“If I tell you that you definitely won’t drink it,” Magda shakes her head and holds out the bowl which contains an innocent looking broth colored liquid. “Bottom’s up.”
I quirk my eyebrow at the mischievous look of glee in Magda’s eyes but choose to ignore it as I place the bowl at my lips and tip it and my head back to drink the tonic dow
n in one go. I wish I could plug my nose against the smell of the tonic but there’s no time. It tastes worse than I imagined and I have to force myself to swallow every drop. Expecting a magical cure, I’m disappointed when I don’t instantly feel one hundred percent better.
“What’s wrong?” Magda asks worriedly.
“I don’t feel any better,” I explain.
Magda snorts, “You will, just give it a few minutes to get into your system.”
I wait, not feeling an immediate difference until I notice the cuts on my hands slowly closing up in front of my eyes. I feel a sharp pang of pain in my broken leg as the bones snap back into place under the bruised skin, my leg now feeling as good as new. Over the next quarter hour my bruises fade, my bones reset themselves, and my cuts and scrapes heal themselves.
Before long I’m clamoring to my feet with Magda’s help. Under her disapproving watch I change into the patchwork dress from my pack and starting for the front door with the golden spinning wheel Juniper gifted to me. It’s the last of the sister witches’ gifts and I don’t want to part with it, but I know it will catch the troll-faced princess’s eye.
“Are you sure about this, milady?” Magda asks, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed over her chest.
“I have to try,” I remind her. “This is my last chance.”
Magda sighs, throwing up her hands in defeat and shuffling back into her cottage, muttering under her breath, “You crazy fool.”
I sit one last time on the boulder below the palace window and innocently begin spinning wool into thread.
As if drawn by the scent of gold the princess is soon once again throwing the window open and staring down at the castle grounds below. Her mouth flattens into a hard line when she lays eyes on me, but her eyes positively glow when she sees the golden spinning wheel.
“I want that spinning wheel and you’re going to give it to me.” The princess snarls.
“Is that so?” I dare to say. “It isn’t for sale for gold or money, as you well know. You know what I want, let me up to see the prince tonight and you can have the spinning wheel.”
“No,” the princess raises her head defiantly.
I tsk, “Well then you don’t get the spinning wheel. Take your pick, which do you want more?”
The princess mulls over my terms before finally relenting, “I suppose that would be alright. You can find your way to the gatehouse at nightfall, I trust.”
“I know the way,” I grin triumphantly.
Several hours later I meet the twin terror trolls at the gatehouse. Once the gate opens I shove the spinning wheel in their direction and sling my pack over my shoulder.
“Your guidance to the prince’s bedchamber is not needed,” I raise my chin, confidently. I don’t trust these two not to try to throw me in the moat or something this time. “Just give me the key.”
The guards confer through a series of shrugs, narrowed eyed stares, and hand gestures. Finally the heavier guard grunts and hands over the key. Together they pick up the spinning wheel and carry it off toward a different part of the castle.
They’re so slow-witted they don’t realize they’ve just given me a way to lock them and the princess out of Dyre’s bedchamber. Sliding the key up the sleeve of the green sweater I borrowed off Magda to hide it from any palace servants I may encounter, I fly through the corridor before they catch on to their mistake and come chasing after me.
I navigate my way through the main floor corridors before reaching the staircase to Dyre’s tower bedchamber. Not wasting any time I run up the stairs, taking them two at a time.
I pause at the door outside Dyre’s bedchamber for a minute to catch my breath. This is it, my final chance. When I unlock the door I hear a faint rustling inside Dyre's bedchamber. When I don't immediately push open the door it opens a crack and a hand darts out, yanking me inside and shutting the door behind me. I yelp and spin around, fearing this is a trap set up by the princess.
Instead, I come face to face with the object of my affection. Dyre stares back at me in shock and disbelief. “It’s true. You’re really here,” Dyre whispers before he pulls me close aligning my body with his as he squeezes me in a rib crushing hug.
“I told you I would come for you,” I murmur as I breathe in the familiar scent of the soap he washes himself in. I examine his face and body for changes or abuses caused by the inhabitants of the palace, relieved at finding none save for his obsidian hair being jaggedly cut several inches shorter with a blade, an act of rebellion on his part.
“You’re amazing, do you know that?” Before I can answer Dyre is crushing his lips against mine. I sink into the kiss, allowing myself to relax and push away all worries about the princess or the guards barging in on us. I just let myself feel.
When we break apart, breathless and satisfied for the moment, I tell him, “I’ve been here the past two nights but you never woke. I screamed and cried and shook you senseless but you never woke.”
Dyre nods slowly, as he guides me to his bed. We sit down as he takes my hands in his, “in the room next to this one are a group of people that my stepmother is holding as prisoners. They heard you in here weeping and calling to me two nights in a row so when I woke this morning they whispered to me through the walls and told me everything. At first, I didn’t believe them; I thought it was a set up by my stepmother to trick me.”
“She’s gone,” I tell him. “She’s hunting for more prisoners.”
“Yes,” Dyre mutters, “she tends to do that. Anyway, then after I thought about it more, each of the past two nights Serpentina has brought me a drink while I sat in the library. It’s the only place I can usually escape her, as she’s not a big reader. But after a few sips from the goblet she brings to me I start getting very tired, barely alert enough to get up to this tower prison my stepmother set up for me. Everything clicked into place from there, so tonight when she came to me again I guessed that she was drugging the wine she gave to me. I dumped it into a plant when she wasn’t looking and it shriveled and died immediately.”
“She could have killed you,” I exclaim, shaking my head in disgust.
“But she didn’t, and now you are here. Tell me, love, how did you manage to find this cursed place?” Dyre asks curiously as he tucks me against his side in the way I’ve wanted him to whenever my thoughts lingered on him during the long lonely nights of my journey.
“It was not easy,” I admit as I begin telling him about going back to my family’s old house, running into Siglynn and the gateway in the northern forest that brought me to this in-between world. He gasps at my recount of my encounter with the Nokken and nods encouragingly as I tell him about the witch sisters, the dwarf, and the long days of traveling between each of their homes.
"What is this?" Dyre asks, distracted by something in my pack as he pulls a jar out of its’ depths.
"Salve for my feet," I explain, reaching for the jar as a blush creeps up my neck. I look up to see Dyre looking at my boot covered feet questioningly. “I had to walk many days before reaching the witches’ homes and borrowing their horses and mules to reach the East Wind's house.
"The East Wind brought you here?" Dyre's eyes widen in amazement.
I shake my head, "No, the North Wind finally got me here, but the story of the wind brothers is best saved for another time.”
“I understand,” Dyre nods. Pointing to my feet he asks, “May I see?”
I bite my lip, “I guess so. They’re healed by now. The salve was wonderful and Saffron gave me a new pair of boots to replace the pair I had that fell apart.”
Gently Dyre pulls my boots from my feet and pulls the stockings off to reveal the faint scars, the only reminders of the blisters and sores that so recently covered my feet. “Lay down,” he orders. I oblige, propping myself up on my elbows to watch and see what he’s going to do.
Dyre kisses the arch of my foot, his hot mouth trailing kisses up my ankle and calf as a low moan escapes past my lips.
“I don’t deserve someone as steadfast as you,” Dyre murmurs. I open my mouth to disagree but his lips continue on their course up my leg, then to my inner thigh and all coherent thoughts and possible words are lost in a sea of pleasure. My skin feels pleasantly scorched everywhere his perfect lips touch. When he kisses my most intimate of places I see stars behind my eyelids.
“Dyre please, I want you,” I plead breathlessly, unsure of how much more of his assault on my senses I can take. Dyre laughs joyously, moving his body over me and kissing me until I no longer care if the prisoners in the next room hear us as the sounds of frenetic rustling and shoving aside of obstructing fabrics fill the room while Dyre pulls away my clothing leaving me bared to him. I see his body's reaction to my nakedness and give in to the moment that has been building since the first night we met as Dyre yanks me flush against him. I feel the hard ridge of him through his pants as he fumbles to open them. My hand drifts down between us and I wrap my hand around his length. He hisses out a groan as he grabs my hips and we lose ourselves in each other. I let myself melt into him, becoming one with him, unashamed to let him see every part of me.
“You’re mine,” Dyre whispers over and over as he claims me, his skin hot against mine.
“Tell me something,” I request later as I lay comfortably in Dyre's arms, the sheets tangled around our bodies.
“Like what?” Dyre asks, stroking my arm softly.
“Anything,” my breath chills Dyre's bare chest, causing a trail of goosebumps to form over the warrior tattoos covering his collarbone.
“That first night, when you came back to the palace with me I was afraid you'd see me in my human form and everything would be over before it had time to begin,” Dyre pauses and I'm not sure where he's heading, “but you looked so beautiful lying there asleep that I couldn't turn away to hide away in the forest. I couldn't take my eyes off you. I knew I loved you already but suddenly everything was so real, you really agreed to come with me and I fell even more in love with you then.”
“What are we going to do now?” I ask, my mood turning serious as I stroke the silky black strands of hair at the back of Dyre’s neck. “You’re still promised to the troll-faced princess, are you not?”
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