by TARA GALLINA
Pushing his wet bangs away from his face, Daceian inhales and seems to regain control over himself. “Have I frightened you?” he asks, his tone sincere.
“No. Not at all.” I swim back to where he sits on the rock. “If anything, I frightened myself.”
“Why is that?”
I drop my gaze to his wet shirt that clings to his sculpted chest. Embarrassment heats my cheeks for what I’m about to say, “Because I … I wanted you, too.”
“That makes me very happy to hear.” Pride rings in his voice. “But if you want to wait, then that’s what we will do. I’d never push you, Preya.”
He cups my cheek and studies my face, his brows tightening with concern. “Your eyes are redder and puffier than they should be. Were you crying before you found me? Did someone hurt you?” His features tighten with a fierceness that could terrify the strongest of men.
Hurt builds in my chest for the second time today. I draw in a shaky breath and explain the exchange between my father and me.
“I’m sorry.” He plants a wet kiss on my forehead. “I don’t want you to be sad, certainly not because your father disapproves of me. I can understand his concern. To the village, my mother is a nightmare. But I agree with him for urging you to do what you must to end the curse.”
I grimace. “I knew you would say that, and I do accept I am The One to kill the Washer Woman. I just worry if I am capable. We don’t have a plan. We don’t even have a weapon. All we have are some words on paper and an idea of how to go about it.”
Daceian’s face brightens with a smile that is as magnificent as it is confusing.
“What is it?”
He caresses my cheek and kisses my lips. “That was the first time you opened yourself to me, trusting me with your pain and fears. I am honored and blessed to have you in my life. You are the strongest maiden I’ve ever known. Thank you for saving me. I will not let you down.”
My heart flutters, and once again tears fill my eyes. “I don’t know if I deserve you, but I will do everything within my power to make you proud.”
“I am, Preya. I am so proud.” He kisses the top of my hand and entwines our fingers. “Come. We have much to do.”
CHAPTER 17
Daceian disappears to his room, wherever it is, to change out of his wet clothes. I do the same. In the bedroom, the cottage has a new dress waiting for me on a hook. It’s dreamlike with a tight bodice in the softest shade of pink. The skirt is made of a wispy material that cascades in long layers of pink, purple and yellow, reminding me of the wisteria Daceian showed me. A lovely pair of satin slippers rests on the floor near the dress. It’s the most beautiful gown I’ve ever seen, as if it were made from the gardens in the woods.
“Is this for me?” I ask, unsure. The cottage has never given me something new to wear.
The lights flicker in acknowledgment.
“I’m afraid to wear it, afraid I’ll ruin it. It’s too formal for me and for what I do.”
Take lives. And for what I’m about to do. Kill a former princess.
I fall onto the bed, sitting at the edge as a weight fills my stomach. Thinking about her in that way will not help me do what I must.
The dress wiggles on the hook, and the lights flicker again. Clearly, the cottage wants me to wear the gown. After all it’s done for me, how can I refuse?
With a warm giggle, I hop from the bed. “If you insist.” I bow to the cottage. “Thank you for making such a beautiful gown for me.”
The fabric is soft and shimmers under my touch. Tiny jewels glisten within the material like hidden crystals. I change out of my damp dress and slippers and slide the new gown over my head, though I’m not sure how I will secure the laces in the back.
As if the cottage can read my thoughts, the laces begin to tie themselves. The fit is perfect. There’s even a hidden pocket with my butterfly brooch tucked safely inside. I step into the satin slippers and fluff the skirt, my skin suddenly tingling with what I can only explain as magic.
Roses begin to sprout around the bodice in deeper shades of purple, yellow, and pink. They appear on the skirt in several places and in different sizes. My hair pulls back, and a ribbon of roses passes by my eyes as it moves to the back of my head, securing the strands away from my face.
Floral scents infuse the air, reminding me of my mother and the rose gardens she adored. I feel a warmth wrap around me in a hug, like she’s here, visiting from beyond the grave. It could be my imagination, but I prefer to believe it’s her.
I smile at the cottage, overcome with joy and appreciation. “Thank you so very much for this moment and this breathtaking gown. I’ll never forget it.”
Once more, the lights dim.
The door in the other room creaks open. “Preya?” Daceian calls.
I rush to see him, surprised by my sudden nerves. He’s never seen me dressed like this.
He sucks in a breath, and his bottom lip falls. His silvery blue eyes take me in from the top of my head to my slippers and back up. “You are mesmerizing, a vision to behold until the end of my days. Never will there be a lovelier lady.”
Excitement bursts inside me. I touch my heart and remind myself to breathe. Does he know what he said? I cross to him. “It isn’t customary to refer to a girl as a lady until her wedding day.”
“I know.” His gaze sweeps over my gown. “The cottage made this for you. It’s a sign. We are to be wed on this day.”
I stiffen. “Today? Are you sure?”
“Yes. It must be part of the plan. You look scared.” He reaches for my cheek.
I step back and move behind the chair near the fireplace. “I dreamed of this day when I was a child, before I realized no one would ever choose me as his bride. I imagined the occasion in my mind, fantasized about it. It would be in my mother’s favorite garden. The sun would be warm and bright, birds would be singing, and happiness would rain from the sky. My family would be there among the roses, sharing in my excitement. The twins would be dressed in yellow and pink, Mother’s favorite colors, and Father would walk me to my groom, giving me away with his loving approval. It would be a glorious day filled with light and love, not one that starts out with so much gloom and pain.”
“Preya, when time is precious, we have to make our own light and love. And time is precious.” There’s an urgency to his voice. His shoulders droop, and sadness deepens the color in his eyes.
I hurry to him and touch his cheek. “What’s wrong? Are you ill?”
He bows his head. “I spoke with my mother before I left my room.”
“How?” I lower my hand.
“We figured out a way to end this. I read her the poem. She understood the meaning the same as we did, but she came up with a different plan—a different way. And Preya?” He lifts his head. “It is not in our favor.”
I shiver, disliking this day even more. “Tell me.”
He draws in a heavy breath. “I can save you from killing her by casting the blade through her heart. In doing so, I will take her place and become the creature she once was.”
My stomach tightens with a sick knot. “No. Absolutely not. That’s not a solution. It’s trading one monster for another. I won’t agree to it. Nothing will change, except I won’t have you. How could your mother come up with this plan? She can’t want this for you. You can’t want this for you. No. I won’t agree.” I gather my dress and stomp away.
He catches my hand and steps in front of me, determination etched on his face. Moisture glistens from his eyes. “I wasn’t finished. We can change things, if you’re willing to do the alternative. Once I take my mother’s place, you can … you can use the same blade to strike my heart, killing me, too. I’ll help you do it. With my death, the curse will be broken forever. Then you’ll be free to see your family again. You’ll be safe. Everyone will.”
Shock steals my breath, and silence fills my head as if I’ve lost the ability to hear. My legs grow weak and my body turns numb. I don’t know how I’m standing.
For a moment, I wonder if life has left me and I cease to exist.
Fear shows on Daceian’s face. He speaks to me, his lips moving with force, but I can’t hear his words. His fingers curl around my biceps.
I can’t feel his touch, either.
When I don’t respond, he guides me to the high-backed chair and sits me down.
The dress puffs around my waist and legs.
On his knees, he pushes the material aside and wedges close to me. Tears fall from his eyes as he mouths words I can’t hear.
Moments pass in silence with him clutching my hands and begging on his knees.
“Please come back to me.” His whisper reaches my ears. Finally. “I only meant for you to go on, to live and have the life you’ve always wanted. Forgive me, my love. Forgive me.”
My love? The world springs forth with a rush of sensations: the scent of roses in the air, the chair cushioning my body, the sound of Daceian’s pain-filled voice, and his gentle touch on my skin.
“You said ‘My love,’” I murmur. “Does that mean you love me?” Could he? Other than family love, I have no experience with this.
He inhales a jagged breath and blinks. Relief pours from him as he straightens and nods. “Yes, I love you, which is why I want nothing more than to save you. For your family, for your future, for everyone. They will know, along with the entire village, that you freed them. You will never be shamed again. They will sing praises in your name, and they will know how special you are. That is all I want for you.”
If I weren’t sitting, my legs would have given out after hearing such an adoring affirmation. He loves me. This was never meant to be my life. Yet, here it is. Here he is on his knees, declaring a love that’s worth sacrificing his life. My heart swells with so much joy I fear it might explode.
I cup his cheeks and draw him to my lips for a kiss. “Thank you for loving me so much you’re suggesting this noble yet horrifying alternative. But I could never take your life. Never. Nor could I be happy without you. Not anymore. The poem was right. We belong together. I don’t want a life without you, and I will fight however I must to keep you with me. Do you understand?” I don’t give him a chance to answer. “Besides, it’s your name everyone should know, your greatness. The village will need a leader once the curse is broken. They deserve the Prince of Isca.”
His features tighten with confusion. “But you have to kill my mother. I thought it was too much. I thought it would be easier to kill me because I could help you do it.”
I press my finger to his lips. “Did you not hear what I just said? I know what you thought. And I can’t do it. I won’t. I will do what is necessary to free us and everyone else from the curse. Whatever I must, but there will be no more talk about you being ki…” My lip trembles, and I can’t get out the word.
Daceian pulls me to my feet and wraps his strong arms around me in a hug. “You won’t be alone. We’re in this together.”
My cheek presses against his soft vest. “I know. And once it’s done, you will lead the village. The Council has reigned for far too long. We will need a strong king born from the blood of our ancestors. We will need you.”
He stiffens. “The poem spoke of ‘darkness in the House’. My mother said the house is the castle and the darkness resides inside, which would mean the Council.” He scratches his temple. “I haven’t worked out how the two connect or if they do. I might have interpreted her riddles incorrectly. She can’t give me specifics regarding the curse. It protects itself by forbidding her to speak certain truths. Whenever she tries, her tongue burns like a flame and her eyes bleed.”
My hand flies to my chest and I gasp. “That’s horrifying.”
“That’s the curse.” He shrugs, reminding me this has been his life.
“Do you think the Council is bad?” Worry settles in my gut. I glance at the door, my thoughts on my family and the village. “What if this whole time we’ve been living under the false impression that the Council wants us safe? And the only harm is the curse?”
He turns sideways and runs a hand through his hair, his other hand planted on his hip. “It’s very likely. If my instincts are correct, the darkness does lie within the Council and it’s protecting something. Perhaps the blade. It would be safe there, far enough away from the woods and the river where Mother resides. She told me the end is in the castle and that I’d sense its power when it’s near. I took it to mean she was referring to the blade.”
“I can see that.” I smooth out the wrinkled material on my skirt. So much for the dress being a sign for celebration. “When are we to return to the castle?”
“Tonight, long after the sun has set and you have rested.” He faces me, and I take him in for the first time since he arrived. How had I not noticed his clothes are different too?
He wears a black velvet jacket with tails, a vest with paisley embroidery over a crisp white shirt, and black pants tucked into shiny black boots. He looks like the royalty he is, the true Prince of Isca, heir to the throne, and the light to our village’s future.
His earlier comment returns to my mind. When time is precious, we have to make our own light and love.
“Did you choose your outfit?” I ask.
“The cottage did.”
I take his hands in mine. “Then it is a sign that we should wed. Today.”
“But your family and the location… It’s not how you imagined.”
“You are not what I imagined, could have imagined. You are so much more. Who is to say a ceremony alone will not be as special as one surrounded by family and friends? And by friends, I mean the grounds keeper and kitchen maid. As long as it’s with you, it will be perfect.”
His smile showers the room with the warmth of the sun. “You have made me so happy.”
Until this moment, I never truly understood how the happiness of another could mean more than any dream or hope I have for myself.
“I love you, Daceian, Prince of Isca.”
A playful grin curves his lips. He bends and whispers in my ear, “If I am Prince of Isca and you are my wife, what do you think that will make you?”
My stomach drops at the thought. “No. I can’t be a. …” I can’t even say the word.
“Yes. You can.” He kisses my cheek and straightens. “Princess Preya. It has a nice ring to it.”
I laugh. “It sounds wretched. No one will take me seriously.”
“They will have to. You will be their queen. Queen Preya. Now that has a nice ring.”
“What if I want to marry only you? Not your title or throne? I would be a horrible queen. I’m not meant for a castle and formalities. Perhaps we should have had this discussion before agreeing to marry,” I add, only half teasing.
“Who says we have to live in a castle and follow old traditions?” He surveys the quaint room. “We could live here if you’d like. I am bound to nothing but you.”
Such sweet words. Never has my heart felt so filled.
“I would like to live at the manor with my family, if we should be lucky enough to make it that far.”
He lifts my hands and kisses each knuckle. “We will.”
I pray that day comes true.
The lights in the cottage flash. Daceian turns to the plant. Its leaves straighten, tense with a warning. One falls to the ground.
I squeeze his wrist. “Am I being summoned?”
Daceian stoops to pick up the leaf. He reads it. “No. I am.”
“Then no one is to die tonight?”
“So far.” He turns and catches me in a deep yawn.
I cover my mouth, embarrassed. Now isn’t the time to be sleepy. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Rest. You need it.”
“I’m not tired.”
“I don’t know how long I’ll be or if she’ll call for you, too. This may be your only chance to rest. Promise me you’ll try.” He kisses my forehead. “I’ll return as soon as I can.”
I nod and cover another yawn. After Daceian leaves, I stare at
the front door with the sudden urge to go after him. It doesn’t make sense. He’s coming right back.
Perhaps a nap would do me good. I won’t sleep for long.
CHAPTER 18
I wake to a dark room. My muscles groan when I stretch like I’ve been asleep for hours. Layers of tulle puff around me as I move, reminding me I’m still wearing the gown. I meant to change.
“What time is it?” I ask the cottage and then giggle at my silliness. Did I think it would answer with spoken words? If anything, I’d get a written response on a leaf.
I sit up and listen for sounds in the other room, hearing nothing. Is Daceian not back yet? My stomach twists in a tight knot, similar to last night when I felt urged to go after him.
“Daceian?” I call out and spring off the bed, headed for the door. Opening it, I barrel into the other room. Flames crackle from the fireplace, casting a faint glow. My gaze goes straight to the plant. The leaves hang in soft folds as if it’s sleeping.
Any other time, I’d take it as a good sign, but the tension in my stomach won’t ease.
“I need to see Daceian. Can you summon him? Please.” My voice strains. I press my hands together tightly.
The leaves shift a tiny bit and one falls to the floor.
What you seek is in his room.
I don’t know where that is. “How do I get there?”
Another leaf falls.
The tall oak behind the cottage.
“Please don’t tell on me, and please don’t punish him for my breaking the rules. If you must, punish me,” I plead to the plant before opening the door.
Tensing, I step outside. The plant doesn’t squawk nor am I hit with burning pain. I can only hope Daceian isn’t suffering on my behalf.
Night blankets the woods, the moonlight barely visible. The scents of oak and pine infuse the moist air. The humidity feels thicker tonight. Fog must be heavy and low to the ground. It would also explain why the area appears blurry. Getting around won’t be easy.
