Her right foot twitched. Vynasha slowly shifted her heel until it dropped over the side of the bed. Vynasha choked back laughter and squeezed her eyes tight as she glared at the other foot. This time her command was louder. “Move.” Her toes twitched.
Vynasha bit her lip as the runes on her arms and her chest began to twist and rearrange their shapes over her skin. Grunting past the pain, she used her free hand to push up off the bed. Her sharp teeth pricked her bottom lip. Her ankle shifted, but then she pitched too far aside in an attempt to help it along. A strangled sob accompanied her fall. Her limbs were twisted beneath and behind her. She couldn’t push her hair aside.
Vynasha screamed.
A pounding at the door stole her fury. She shivered as she felt panic not her own push her heart to racing. The door crashed open, and the sun spilled into the room. She blinked, and her tears fell from her eyes. Not the sun.
A strangled moan escaped Grendall as he sank to his knees before her. He hesitated and then pushed her hair away from her face. His hand was warm against her cheek as he wiped her tears away.
She had avoided him for seven days. His presence, even with a wall between them, had been too strong, too much. Now that he was gathering her up in his arms, Vynasha felt relief and couldn’t tell where the emotion stemmed from this time.
“I am sorry, so sorry,” he whispered as he helped her to sit on the bed and kept a hand at her back to steady her. With his other hand, he continued to reassure her. He gave a brush of her curls, squeezing her hand at his shoulder before she could pull away.
Vynasha opened her mouth. She wanted to be furious with him, this lying prince. Instead, she said, “You had wings.”
A single black brow quirked, and then he tilted his head back, gaze sweeping over her with wonder. “Wings?”
She grimaced. “You saved me from those shades. How did you know I was there?”
His lips parted then pressed tight as he swallowed. He seemed so different. She had not allowed him near for days. “I felt your fear. I could not let them steal your light.”
“How?” The question escaped before she could keep it back. She had spent so long holding back. What did it matter now?
Grendall’s hand briefly tightened at her waist. She should have pushed him away. But the runes weren’t screaming at her, and it felt…
“I feel everything you feel, Ashes,” he blurted. “Your sorrows, your fear. Even the happiness you found for a time away from me.”
“Oh.” She could only stare at him then, this prince who lied and threatened to destroy his subjects for attempting to come near her. He was mad, no doubt of it.
She couldn’t keep her back straight for long. Too weary, too weak. He noticed before she did. With greater care than she expected, he lifted her again until her back hit the piled pillows. He arranged her legs next, pausing before pulling her nightgown back over her ankles. Grendall’s scowl was familiar, far more the gatekeeper she remembered. He brought her covers and furs back to her chest, arranging her arms over the top, pausing over her clawed hands.
Vynasha flinched and tried to curl her fingers into fists. “You should go,” she whispered. She needed to push him away before he looked too closely at her claws and fangs. There was little she could do to him in this state, so little she could hide.
His golden palm covered her fist. She glanced up to find him already looking at her. A strange feeling rose between them, one she couldn’t name. Still, she didn’t feel pain or the need for Lyttia’s potion. She ran the tip of her tongue over her bloodied lip and sucked in a breath.
Tell him to leave. Make him go before he sees.
“I thought you couldn’t leave the castle?” She didn’t want him to leave.
He stiffened then replied, “I cannot move through the lands past our boundary, past the gate. It is difficult for me to roam as far as I did, but…”
“But what?” She could feel his shame, brewing up from such self-loathing it stole her breath.
His mouth twisted down again as he bowed his head. “We are bound. It is what allowed me to share your dreams.”
“It wasn’t the amulet,” she hissed. She felt his shame rise with her anger. “You begged me to take it off,” she continued. “I watched you fall apart in the dream.”
Grendall traced the edges of her claws, stealing her words away. She shivered, and he looked at her through his dark lashes. “We are bound, Ashes. The amulet augments our power, true. But it was never the source of our union. It was hers at one time.”
Had he not been touching her, Vynasha might have understood what he was trying to tell her, but she could not think anymore. His fingers traced hers, spreading golden light with each caress as though she was a precious thing. She could feel him, beneath her skin and above it, making her blood sing.
His chest rose and fell, and his pupils had dilated when their eyes met. “Vynasha,” he began but hesitated. A powerful emotion was building in him, fueling his fear, itching its way from where his hand touched hers.
She pulled her hand back with a light gasp, and Grendall’s gaze shuttered, his fear replaced with resignation. “I never wanted this fate for you. I couldn’t save the others. I am sorry for all the ways I have wronged you.”
She wondered what he had meant to say. She was dressed in a fine bed gown, smelling of flowers she could not name. No windows broke the feeling of the walls closing in around them. Despite its subtle beauties, this room was a cage, she had no delusions. But for all that, and all Grendall had done in luring first her father and then her here through him, she knew he regretted his actions. She could feel it. Was it wrong of her to deny forgiveness, to want something true from him?
“Those creatures you destroyed,” she finally said. “Why did they try to take my light?”
Grendall’s expression twisted into the gatekeeper she remembered. “They were wyne, once. Those in the city did not all submit to the fading. The ones who fought it out of spite or hatred were corrupted and turned on their families, their neighbors. I could keep the path safe for a time, for—” he sneered at the words, “maidens of the blood. This is why you were told not to stray from the path.”
She blinked, again brought back to the beggar, what had remained of the man her father had been. And the hatred she had felt upon Grendall’s revelation stung her now. The gatekeeper flinched as if he knew her thoughts.
“Can you read my mind?” Vynasha demanded.
Grendall shook his head and squeezed her hand. “No, I feel what you feel, and I—sometimes am given impressions or images when your emotions are most high.” He ducked his head to hide his scowl.
“Can I,” she paused, then pushed on regardless, “why can I not feel you?”
He traced the lines of runes along the underside of her wrist. “When you removed the amulet, it did help weaken the strength of the bond, so long as we were separated by the boundary. But I suspect you felt as I felt, even when you were unaware.”
Vynasha shifted, suddenly uncomfortable, knowing he must have felt her experiences with Baalor. Would he have allowed her to go on living in ignorance while sharing what crumbs of joy she found?
As he faded. He sent me away to die.
Grendall took a deep breath, that other feeling welling up in him again. “I know, given the choice, you would not choose me. After everything, I do not blame you. I chose differently for myself, once.” The bitter resignation in his beautiful face hurt almost as much as the emotions he passed to her. “I broke your trust, and I do not deserve your friendship. But if you will allow me, I can be your ally.”
Vynasha swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Can—can you help me get better?”
Grendall didn’t have to say anything. He was filled with so much hope, and he was looking at her as though she was something new. For a man who had lived centuries, how often was he truly surprised anymore?
He stole everything from you.
But the walls whispered, “He gave you more in
return.”
Grendall laced their fingers together and finally replied, “If you will allow me.”
DURING THE FIRST day after Vynasha agreed to accept Grendall as her ally, she had upended her food tray on his lap.
“I can feed myself!” she had hissed at him, cutting a glare at Odym’s restrained chuckle. “What are you laughing at, old man?”
The wyne shrugged and hid a smile behind his hand while Grendall gave a long-suffering sigh. “Clearly, you cannot be trusted to feed yourself yet.”
Vynasha had begun to roll her eyes at this until he began to whisper in that other language, and with a flash of golden light, the mess was gone.
The second day, she had spilled her drink on him on purpose. Judging by the arch of his eyebrow and slow smirk, he knew exactly what she was doing.
“You shall never get better if you refuse to eat every meal, Ashes,” he had growled.
Vynasha dug her claws into the sheets, uncaring if she ripped them to shreds. Better the sheets than the prince who had claimed to help her.
He had caught her before she could flick her tray into his lap again.
By the third day, Odym had taken to short visits and nightly vigils only, and Vynasha was ready to gouge the prince’s pretty eyes out.
“You cannot leave me alone with him again, Odym, please. I am going mad.” She caught his sleeve, surprised by how real it felt.
The wyne’s laughter was full and genuine and filled her with unexpected warmth. “You should have known he could not bear to leave your side once you accepted him, my dear.”
Vynasha was shocked into silence by this. She couldn’t deny she had shown vast improvement in only three days compared to the previous seven. She could move her arms and legs now without trembling, even sit up in bed if she wished. The ability to relieve herself was still a challenge, but far welcome to Odym’s assistance to and from the chamber pot.
“If there is nothing else you require, I must see to the kitchens and ensure Lokyr hasn’t gone out of his way preparing another gooseberry tart for you.” Odym patted her hand fondly before picking up her tray and leaving her to her thoughts.
Vynasha snorted at his comment and couldn’t help her smile. Ever since she had agreed to their alliance, the other wyne had sent little things on to show her their appreciation. New clothes from Lyttia and Myrel, special treats from Lokyr, and a fresh rose every morning from Hvalla.
Vynasha spied the fresh-cut rose sitting on the fireplace mantel and found a sudden urge to touch the velvet petals. The daily breath of fresh air brought as much relief as worry for her shy friend. Odym had often tutted over this evidence of the younger wyne’s disregard for the rules. Apparently, the only rule since she had abandoned them was this: never leave the secret passages. Never go outside.
“Come outside and see. We would be yours to command,” the walls whispered to her.
Vynasha shuddered. If she closed her eyes, she could almost smell the snow falling over the forest, Wolfsbane’s furs around her, Erythea’s majik and Baalor’s skin. She blinked back tears.
No use dwelling on regrets. Get better and make things right.
Vynasha slowly swung her legs over the bedside and pressed her stocking-clad feet into the carpet. Taking in a deep breath, she rose on unsteady limbs and, careful to keep her arms on either side, took the first wobbling steps. She could almost feel the heat of the hearth on her face when the door burst open.
Grendall gaped, then dropped whatever was in his hands and, kicking the door behind him, was at her side in a moment. “What were you thinking, Ashes? You knew I was coming. Why did you not wait for me?” he growled.
Vynasha swatted his hands away before he could fully support her. “I had it under control.” She staggered too far to her right, and her knee gave out. She reached, determined to catch the mantel as she staggered forward. Ignoring the pain in her legs, she gripped the stone and lifted her eyes to Hvalla’s rose with a smile.
“If this is your way of getting even with me for sending you away,” he sighed, “it is working.” Grendall’s hands were tight about her waist. He stole sharp, quick breaths and bowed his head behind her.
Vynasha scoffed. “When I wish to get even with you, you’ll know it.” She felt the heat of him against her back, his surprised laughter against her neck.
“Yes, I believe I shall.”
She wondered at the happiness coloring his voice as he acknowledged her threat. That he could be so alive while she was so frail never failed to embitter her heart toward him. Still, she allowed his touch. He did this often when they were alone together, guiding her limbs and coaxing her body back into its proper functions. She should be used to him touching her, and she was. But this was not the worst part, no.
“Will you come back to bed now that you have proved your prowess, Ashes?”
Vynasha flinched at the nickname and bit back a moan as he gently squeezed her waist. Her answer came out far gruffer than she intended. “You can let me go now, prince.”
“As you command.” Grendall retreated at her disgust but did not move too far from her side. Nor did he protest her determination to do this alone.
The loss of his touch was nearly painful. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye as she twisted round, keeping a hand on the mantel. He hid behind the hard veneer of the man she remembered, the bitter dungeon master. Swallowing her pity and hunger, she lifted her chin and walked to the chair beside her bed. Her knee still ached from her stumbling, but she gritted her teeth and tried not to fall so hard into the chair. She did not bother holding back her sigh of relief or grin of triumph as she met his gaze again.
“See? I told you I could do it.”
Grendall’s mouth tipped up at the corner, and he nodded once before turning back to fetch the bundle he had dropped. She watched curiously as he set it on the bed and untied it. A pair of soft-soled fur-lined leather boots, a shift, leggings, and a burgundy dress met her eye.
“They must stop making me clothes I’ll never wear,” Vynasha whispered with reverence as she leaned forward and ran her fingers over the soft material.
Grendall smiled. “I thought perchance you would like to go for a walk today.”
Vynasha held her breath. “This coming from the prince who wouldn’t let me walk alone?” She followed the stitched pattern of silver leaves and accidentally brushed against his hand.
He retracted his hand, and she found his piercing stare. “It has been three days.”
She nodded, hesitating. “Meaning you believe I’m strong enough or no?”
Grendall looked away and began to lay out the layers over her bed. “Meaning I will be here to catch you if you should fall.”
Vynasha swallowed the lump in her throat and pressed her clawed fingertips against the dress. “All right, then, give me a moment to get dressed and I’ll come with you.” When he made no move to leave, she leveled a glare at him. “What?”
Grendall did not meet her eye. “You will need help.”
Vynasha paused, disbelieving his nerve.
He cannot be suggesting…
“If you believe I’ll let you dress me like a doll, you have another thing coming, prince.”
Grendall shrugged, the very picture of nonchalance. “Suppose you would rather remain here, then? We can just as easily go through your exercises if you like.”
Vynasha dug her claws into her palm. “Don’t you have duties to perform, like controlling the subjects you seem to care so little for?”
Grendall’s jaw tightened. “There is little more I can do for them that I have not already tried.” His expression hardened as he met her eye. “I need you to get better, Ashes, and we cannot afford to hide in here forever.”
Vynasha gaped at him. He had always been an ass. She had known this much upon their first meeting. But if he was implying she would rather remain a prisoner by choice…
“Help me with the bloody leggings first,” she said.
Grendall bowed h
is head, his black hair falling over his eyes before she could catch his expression. But he made no more comment as she stretched first her left leg forward then the right. The brush of his fingers against her bare skin as he rolled the woolen stocking off caused her to break into gooseflesh. She bit her lower lip in a vain effort to fight her reaction and the flare of hunger that grew through their bond.
He replaced wool leggings with softer, finer material, thicker than linen, supple as silk. The new boots followed, molding to her calves like a second skin. Grendall shared her smile as she kicked out her feet to better admire Myrel and Lyttia’s craftsmanship.
When he picked up her new shift, Vynasha pushed from her chair with a determined air. Her fingers barely fumbled as she lifted the nightgown above her thighs. She struggled to pull the gown over her head and cursed.
Grendall released a breathless laugh as he helped pull the rest free. A shadow’s smile lingered behind his eyes as he glanced once then twice, briefly from her bared shoulders to her toes, clad only in her smallclothes. She held up her hands for him as he replaced her old gown with clean fabric. There was new heat to his gaze as he pulled the shift over her head. He pulled her hair free of the shift then brushed her tresses behind her ears, lingering at her cheek.
“Odym said I accepted you…what did he mean by that?” Vynasha blurted, unable to take the silence any longer. “And why have the wyne been making and giving me presents?”
His eyebrows rose, and he flinched as if her voice had broken whatever spell he had been under. He turned back to the bed and began to help her with the dress, mumbling curses under his breath. “Meddlesome old man should have known better.”
“Aren’t you tired of Odym being the one to tell me everything first?” Vynasha held her hair over her shoulder as he tied her laces. “We are allies, aren’t we?”
He took her hair back, and she was left speechless as he began to slowly, gently braid it. “You have not had any more pain from the Changeling’s mark, have you?”
Vynasha willed her legs to remain strong as her resolve as she answered, “Not since our bargain.” She hesitated. “You never gave terms, now that I think of it.”
Bound Beauty Page 9
