Dreamless

by Jenniffer Wardell

Elena froze, her eyes widening. “What?”

  “Earlier. If your mom hadn’t been there, you would have argued to not use Braeth’s spell at all.” Cam’s voice was strained. “You didn’t even argue that they should have kept the first spell going. You would have been wrong, but I would have at least understood where you were coming from.”

  Still looking shell-shocked, Elena hunted for something to say. “Cam, you have to understand—”

  “No. I don’t.” He met her eyes, needing her to see how much he meant what he was saying. “I don’t care if you try to keep Bishop from risking his neck for you. We all know the spell’s dangerous, and if there was a better option I’m sure everyone would jump for it in a heartbeat. But you can’t expect me to be okay with the fact that your life seems to be at the bottom of your priorities list.”

  Elena just stared at him, a dozen different emotions flickering in her eyes. She swore under her breath. “I’ll show her how ‘alike’ we are,” she muttered, pivoting around and striding down the street. Everyone’s eyes followed her, then looked back to Cam as if he could offer some explanation.

  He held his hands out helplessly, no more sure of what was going on than they were. Then he hurried to follow her.

  ~

  Cam had been to the kingdom’s one and only prison plenty of times—watching its perimeter was one of the border guard’s responsibilities. It was half built into the mountainside, jutting out like the stone itself had reached out. A few prisoners always tried to escape—digging through the mountain was always popu­lar, and only took about forty or so years to manage—and it was the guardsmen’s job to round them up. It was generally more polite than letting the terrain kill them.

  Thankfully for Nigel, he was still being kept in one of the row of jail cells down at the city guard headquarters, which was located in an old, sprawling building near the market. There was a minor stir when Cam and Elena arrived—the princess was an unexpected sight in this part of town. Though they’d mirror-called Ross, the sergeant apparently hadn’t told anyone else they were coming.

  “Your Highness!” The rookie on duty at the front desk went bug-eyed when he recognized Elena, scrambling to his feet and smoothing his uniform out into some semblance of order before saluting. “Welcome to the city headquarters. We didn’t expect—” He cut himself off with a blush, caught without any kind of script. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—it’s just—”

  “It’s okay.” Elena kept her voice gentle, clearly feeling as bad for the kid as Cam did. “We’re here to see one of the prisoners.”

  The rookie looked confused at the word “we,” obviously having not registered the presence of anyone else but the princess. When his eyes fixed on Cam, a familiar face to anyone who’d seen his mother’s photo collection, it seemed to steady him a little. “Right away, Your Highness. I just need to get the paperwork from Sergeant Ross, and I’ll be right—”

  Before Cam could answer, Ross himself stepped through the doorway. “You don’t bother royalty with paperwork, Palmer,” Ross boomed, the same cheerful tone he used when delivering even his most colorful threats. It generally terrified the new recruits, which meant that he and Cam’s mom got along wonderfully. “Let ‘em through so they can get down to business.”

  “Thank you, Sergeant.” Elena was in extra-gracious mode, which usually meant she was nervous. Now, though, Cam suspected she was trying to make some kind of point. “Both of you are wonderful examples of the kind of city guardsmen we can all be proud of.”

  The rookie blushed again, but Ross just laughed and waved them on. “Your man’s in the cell on the end, Your Highness. Only one we got in lockup right now, so it’ll be just the three of you.” He met Cam’s eyes briefly. “Figured you two could handle it yourselves?”

  Understanding the unspoken offer, Cam nodded and guided Elena back toward the cells. Nigel was right where Ross said he would be, sitting on the edge of his cot with a vacant look. When he caught sight of Cam, he scrambled backwards hard enough that he kicked the cot out from under him. It shot forward, sliding until it hit against the metal bars and leaving Nigel to drop hard onto the cold stone ground.

  Elena closed her eyes, pressing a fingertip to the bridge of her nose as if she could already feel the headache coming. Cam did nothing, having decided that even reaching for the handle of a weapon might give the idiot a heart attack.

  Finally, Nigel managed to get upright again. “You can’t kill me.” The defiance he was trying for was ruined by the tremor in his voice. “There are officers just at the end of the hallway. They’ll hear me if I scream.”

  “I didn’t see them come running in when you had your accident,” Cam said, voice mocking.

  Nigel had already drawn in a breath, ready to keep talking. Cam could almost see the air freeze in the other man’s lungs when he realized Cam was right. “Elena, stop him.” Nigel sounded strangled as he pressed himself flat against the back wall. “You know this isn’t civilized!”

  “He’s simply making conversation, Nigel,” Elena soothed. “I would think you’d appreciate it after being locked away in here all by yourself.”

  “I’m not an idiot. I know a threat when I hear it.” Genuine temper sparked in the prince’s eyes, enough to make him forget that he’d been attempting to flee. “My father made threats all the time, pretending he was teaching me how to be a good son. He said it was for the kingdom’s sake, but I knew better.” His mouth settled into a pout, ruining whatever dignity his anger might have given him. “He was just resentful because I was so much more popular than dim little Frederick.”

  “Of course, he is.” Elena’s voice was sugar-sweet. If she’d tried using that tone with Cam, he would have known not to trust a single word that came out of her mouth.

  Thankfully, Nigel didn’t seem to notice. “It’s a test. That’s all it is. Young noblemen are given quests all the time, and it’s only right that a king should have experience with this sort of thing.” Nigel was pacing now, talking more to himself than either of them. “All I have to do is come back with the list all complete, an enchanted princess on my arm.”

  “Which is where I might be able to help.” Elena spoke just loudly enough to cut off Nigel’s monologue. “Do you need to bring the enchanted princess home with you, or do you just need to save her from a terrible fate?”

  “Does that really matter?” Nigel threw his hands up in the air, completely missing Elena’s insinuation. “You’re the only cursed princess in the immediate vicinity, and the only one for miles who doesn’t already have a prince or randomly heroic woodsman hanging off her arm!”

  Elena put on her best sympathetic expression. “Unfortunately for you, that appears to be true.”

  Relief blossomed on Nigel’s face at the thought of someone finally agreeing with him. “Exactly! And every time I try to have a civilized conversation with you about it, you sic one of your savage watchdogs on me!”

  Cam smirked inwardly at the “savage watchdog” comment. He’d have to pass that one on to Dad. “So you’re definition of ‘civilized conversation’ involves kidnapping and hired thugs?”

  Nigel squawked a protest, but the much bigger surprise was the sidelong glare Elena shot him. “I’m handling this, Cam,” she said. “If you can’t be polite, perhaps it’s best that you wait outside.”

  For just a second, Cam thought that she’d picked the stupidest time in the world to be mad at him. Then Elena’s gaze flickered to Nigel before returning the glare, and Cam realized that she was trying to discreetly inform him that he had better stop screwing up her plan.

  Which meant she’d cared enough to come up with one.

  Fighting a sudden urge to grin, Cam bowed dramatically and took a step back towards the opposite wall. If she was ready to start fighting, he was happy to do whatever was necessary to back her up. “My apologies.”

  “Yes, well.” Nigel sniffed, lift
ing his chin as he took his own step back. “My point was that I’m only here because my father put me in an impossible situation.”

  Elena took a few moments to respond. Cam could imagine her counting out the right number of dramatic beats in her head. “What if we could change that?”

  Nigel’s entire body froze, a wild light in his eyes that Cam remembered from the aborted kidnapping attempt. Cam’s hand moved to the hilt of his sword, ready for anything.

  Elena edged back slightly, giving Cam room to get between her and Nigel if necessary, but showed no sign of worry. “I find myself in the need of some princely assistance.” She’d turned the sugar back on, full blast. “And if you’d be willing to help, I’m sure we could work together to convince your father to let you return—”

  Nigel leaned forward before she’d even finished the sentence, lips puckered as if planning to kiss her through the bars. Elena stepped even further back as Cam moved in, reaching between the bars to grab Nigel’s tunic. When his forward momentum was stopped by a fist, the prince looked confused. Then awareness came back into his eyes. “What is he doing?” Nigel squeaked, sweating a little as he tried to pry Cam’s fingers off him. Any time he accidentally glanced at Cam, his eyes would dart away again. “You said you needed princely assistance!”

  Behind him, Cam could hear Elena take a few slow, deep breaths, the kind that usually meant she was talking herself out of homicide. Only then did she touch his shoulder, a warning before she moved around him. He stepped sideways to give her more room, relaxing his grip only a little.

  Once Nigel had stopped struggling, Elena tried again. “I’m afraid the task set before you is rather more complicated than a simple kiss.” Though still encouraging, her tone was far more formal now. “I need your help with a spell.”

  Nigel stared at her in absolute confusion. “I’m not a witch or a sorcerer. I don’t do spells.”

  Cam could feel Elena’s hand tighten briefly on his shoulder. “I don’t need you to cast the spell, Nigel. I need you to be the hero who protects me from it.”

  Comprehension seemed to dawn in Nigel’s eyes. Then he opened his mouth and ruined it. “Does the spell involve a kiss?”

  Cam thumped Nigel against the bar’s just enough to make a point before letting him go again. “Stop asking stupid questions. She needs you to save her life.”

  The threat of danger in the last sentence had been a risk—the man clearly knew how to cower—but heroic fantasies would fit right in with the prince’s usual delusions. Nigel’s eyes lit. “Will I get a sword?”

  Elena looked briefly upward at the ceiling before responding, as if praying for strength. “I don’t think a sword will be necessary.”

  Nigel’s expression turned mulish. “I want a sword. How can I look princely without one?”

  Yeah, that was never going to happen.

  “Then I’m sure we can arrange one for you.” Elena lied, leaning forward slightly. “Now, are you ready to take on the quest?”

  “I—” Nigel hesitated, then a rare burst of coherent thought hit. “Did you ever tell me what the quest was?”

  Elena shook her head in mock regret. “Sadly, I can’t tell you. It’s a secret quest.”

  Nigel looked offended at that. “But how will everyone adore me if I come home after fulfilling a secret quest? I can’t tell anyone if it’s a secret!”

  “Part of your reward for successfully completing your quest will be a magnificent story to tell everyone,” Elena said easily. Given how little time she’d had to work all this out, Cam was impressed by the level of detail. “And the fact that you saved a princess of the realm and received the grateful thanks of an entire kingdom will be entirely true.”

  That awful light was back his eyes, making Cam clench his fists. If Elena didn’t need the creep for her plan . . .”And you’ll come back to my kingdom with me?”

  “Sadly, no. I’m afraid that would ruin the story.”

  Nigel pouted, then tried again. “But I can tell them anything I want?” he asked, moving close enough to wrap his hands around the bars.

  Elena tensed at that, clearly less than thrilled by the possibilities that left open. “Only if I get your word, sealed by magic, that you will follow all of my instructions to the letter. Spells are precise, and if you step at all out of line it could ruin everything.”

  This time, it was Cam’s turn to tense. If Braeth’s spell was really that fragile, then suggesting Nigel had probably been one of Cam’s worse ideas. The one thing the prince had proven any good at was causing chaos.

  But Elena hadn’t seemed willing to drag one of the other prisoners into this. And if he stopped her now, who knew if she’d be willing to look at other options?

  Nigel hesitated. “You’re not going to make me slap myself or anything embarrassing like that, right?”

  “No,” Elena said, her voice exasperated.

  Nigel shrugged. “Fine. Now release me.”

  Elena shook her head. “Not without sealing your vow. Spit on your hand.” When Nigel recoiled at the thought, she narrowed her eyes at him. “Do it.”

  Reluctantly, Nigel managed to spit a tiny amount of saliva into his palm. He moved to stick his hand through the bars, flinching back when Cam stepped forward again. Elena made an exasperated noise, then grabbed his wrist and tugged it through the rest of the way.

  “Now repeat after me. ‘I will follow all of Elena Randall’s instructions to the letter until I am released from my vow.’”

  After he repeated the words, Elena murmured a phrase and sketched a symbol in the air over his palm. As she completed it, the spit glowed white and sank into his skin. Nigel jumped, shaking his hand violently. “What did you do?”“It’s a simple sealing. If you don’t hold to what you’ve promised, the spell will deliver a powerful reminder shock.” When Nigel eyed her with growing unease, Elena reassured him. “Not that you’ll need it, of course. We just want to make sure that everything goes perfectly for your triumphant moment.”

  Nigel’s face settled, and Cam told himself everything was going to be fine. Elena had thought of the same thing he had, and she’d made sure a contingency plan was in place. They could do this.

  They had to.

  Memory

  Spring, 18 years ago

  It was a week before Ariadne received a letter from Illiana, a single sheet of paper delivered via owl service so it would arrive more quickly. The words were simple, a seemingly calm explanation of her impending marriage and refusal to continue helping with the spell, but someone looking closely could see that many of them were tear-stained.

  Ariadne was in no mood to look closely.

  She raged, at first, sweeping things off tables and tipping shelves full of her sister’s beloved books until it all came crashing to the ground. Then she sent a windstorm roaring through the tower, not caring what she left destroyed in her wake. She shouted. She cursed. She cried.

  But for once, there was no one to listen.

  Once she’d wrung herself dry, Ariadne paced back and forth through the destruction as she began to plan how to best make the king suffer for his crime. Even if he promised her all the jewels in his treasury, it would not be enough to atone for the fact that he had taken her sister.

  Illiana had always been so quiet and shy—Ariadne should have known she’d be highly susceptible to the kind of romantic nonsense nobles were so good at. No matter how smart Ana was, she wasn’t wise to the ways of the world. The king had blinded her, stolen her away.

  That had to be the reason she’d turned away from her beloved sister. From her only family.

  Ariadne merely had to find the best punishment for him, something worthy of the crime he’d committed against her. She sorted through the chaos she’d made, digging out her spell books for inspiration. Death would be viscerally satisfying, the more gruesome the better, but murder was illegal
even for “evil” sorceresses. Torture ran into the same difficulty, proof that the WSG had defanged them all in an attempt to make them more commerce-friendly.

  Unfortunately, she didn’t have the power to go against the ruling body of all sorcery, which meant she was forced to play by their rules. Curses cast outside of a binding contract annoyed them severely, and they policed their ranks with a viciousness that made outside punishments pale in comparison. Still, the risk might be worth it if it could quell the rage and pain burning in her chest.

  Unless, Ariadne stopped, struck by a possibility. She’d been hired to curse him with a century of unbreakable sleep—doing so would simply mean she was following through on her original, fully-authorized contract. True, it wasn’t nearly as much suffering as she’d hoped to inflict on the man, but it would effectively remove him from Illiana’s life.

  Her sister would be hurt by the loss, of course, maybe even to the point of tears. But hadn’t Ariadne been hurt? Hadn’t she shed her own tears? Illiana would see reason in the end, and they would both forgive the other of their crimes. They were sisters, after all.

  The only problem with this plan was that Ariadne still didn’t have a sample of the king’s blood. Acquiring one meant facing her sister head-on, a battle she had no interest in beginning. Ariadne knew she would win, of course—creativity beat out studiousness every time—but there was no pleasure in defeating part of your own heart.

  Ariadne’s mind caught on the last thought, examining it from all angles as she would a spell projection. Basic curses worked using biological triggers, but that was only because they were the most obvious representation of the target’s essential nature. Most obvious certainly didn’t mean only. In fact, there might be a better alternative, and the only reason no one else had found it was because they hadn’t bothered looking. The world was full of people who were less clever than Ariadne was.

  Still, even clever sorceresses couldn’t just snap their fingers and make something revolutionary happen. Ariadne spent weeks studying emotional representation in spells, trying to find a stand-in that would let her reach out and curse the king. She relied more on experimentation than research, feeling hobbled that Illiana wasn’t there to do her part. Rumors came of wedding plans between the king and his mysterious new bride, further inspiration for Ariadne to continue her research.