Chapter 21 - Wings of Lies

I didn’t wake up. Only because I never went back to bed. It wasn’t for a lack of trying. I focused on my mom, closed my eyes, and tried to dream-walk to a memory of her, but my mind wouldn’t shut up.

The last dream-walk left me with a lot to think about.

Aspen flung off his blankets, standing. He yanked his sword belt to his hips, buckled it, and barreled off into the brightening forest.

Guardian, my ass.

I stood too, removing my blanket in a less forceful manner. I ran a hand through my hair, removing the bobby pins and rubber band. At my nape, my fingers yanked on a ginormous knot. Wavy strands tangled around my hands, ripping out, making me cringe. Looking at the loose strands, I grimaced at the dirt and grime under my fingernails and in the creases of my fingers.

Gross.

I bent down to wipe off the dirt on my bed when something slammed into my butt, making me face-plant. A rough hand wrenched my head back, pulling me from the ground.

The lovely itches that enjoyed tormenting my skin came to life, but this time, I didn’t hear the musical sounds of ice. No, what I heard was the dark and seductive music that came alive when I wanted to strangle Oliver.

Brock whispered into my ear. “Sometimes, when the prince goes hunting, I enjoy sharpening my knives on our prisoners.”

A tiny coil of black flame circled my pinky. That shouldn’t happen with the cuffs. But that was twice my powers had breached them.

Brock jerked my head back, exposing my neck and pressing a dagger to my skin. “Did you hear me? You wouldn’t mind that, right?”

This was one time I didn’t want to feel the seductive rage of my power. Not when it had the habit of making me indifferent and impulsive with my words. Brock didn’t let insults slide. He wanted to punish and abuse with every chance he got. In the back of my mind, I knew that. Yet the compulsion of my power leaking through the cuffs said I didn’t care.

“Actually, I don’t think there’s a time I’ve ever enjoyed your disgusting Fallen hands and their wrinkly creases.”

See, rational Lucy would’ve steered clear of poking that wound. The Lucy who suffocated on her breaths would’ve kept her mouth shut. But not this Lucy. Nope. I couldn’t even feel the fear of what Brock would do because of how easily I succumbed to the addictive song.

He started to saw into my neck as he ripped at my hair. I bared my teeth against the pain, hissing out spittle.

“If I could, I’d kill you right now. I’d carve off each appendage as slowly as I could, and seeing as your new cuffs block all your powers but healing, I’d let you heal. Then cut again.” He pressed harder on his knife as he moved it, smiling as blood trickled into my shirt. “Then let you heal.” He took away the knife and waited for my skin to knit back together the slightest bit before pressing it back into the wound.

Dots speckled my vision as I fumed with both pain and rage. Right before I either erupted in the dark flame attempting to consume my finger or pass out, a blur of black slammed into Brock and ripped him away.

“What did I tell you about touching her?” Aspen seethed. His fist gripped the collar of Brock’s shirt, bringing them nose to nose.

“The queen said mostly.”

Aspen scoffed, shoved Brock away, and slammed a string of squirrels into his chest. “Cook these,” he demanded.

Brock sent him a heated glare, but Aspen didn’t see it as he turned to me. His eyes latched onto my neck, making the blue of his eyes spark. “There’s a river,” he said, gesturing behind him. “To clean that and wash yourself.”

Aspen held my gaze for a long moment before crouching down and pulling out a key. “Give me your ankles.”

I glared at him, having difficulty coming down from my rage.

“Come on, Lucille. Turn over.”

His voice seemed different now that I remembered the sound from before, when he’d say, “Stay here, stay put, stay safe.”

I glanced at his neck, finding the chain and the peeking ruby wing. The deadly music and rage quieted, replaced by a fragile confusion.

I turned to my bottom and placed my ankles in front of him, watching as he unlocked one and re-cuffed it to my other leg. Maybe away from Brock, I could work up the courage to ask him about the memory, if he’d even tell me the truth. He went from spewing words of safety to taking me against my will.

He pocketed the key with his eyes drilling into the cut on my neck like it personally insulted him.

“I’m not undressing in front of you.”

He stood, pulling me off the ground. “I know how to turn around and close my eyes.”

I eyed him skeptically, then gestured forward. “Lead the way.”

We walked into the forest. Aspen kept close by, panning left and right in search of Hellhounds or other creatures I didn’t want to know about. His hovering behavior lasted as long as the walk did, which wasn’t long.

Red grass stretched from the ground, brushing against our leathered thighs and weaving between orange and white trees. Large rocks with moss the color of Aspen’s eyes jutted into the slow-moving water. I may hate everything about my situation, but Elora made it hard to hate its beauty.

We stopped by one of the large rocks. I turned to him and pointed to a tree far enough away. “Go stand there and turn around.”

He clenched his jaw. I could see the protest stewing in his eyes.

“I am not undressing with you this close even if I am your prisoner. So, we can stand here and glare at each other all day, or you can go over there and wait until I undress and splash into the water to turn back around.”

Surprising me for the second time today, he conceded, giving me a sharp nod.

“If you run⁠—”

“Yeah, Yeah, big bad Aspen will come and chase me down. I got it. I won’t run,” I said, huffing.

His lip twitched, almost like he was about to smile, but he turned around too fast for me to know. I waited until he neared the tree before I undressed, watching him the entire time.

My jacket and shirt came off easily, as did my boots and socks. My pants were another story. Gently sliding the stiff leather over my stitches, I pulled them down. The first leg slid off with no trouble, but when I did the same to the second, it wouldn’t budge. I tugged and kicked, cursing the cuffs.

“Do you need help?” Aspen asked, voice muffled.

“No,” I snapped. “You could’ve tightened the damned cuffs.”

“You could be grateful I took them off at all,” he called back.

I rolled my eyes. This wasn’t exactly off in my book.

Toes needing a break from the cold rock, I plopped on the ground, letting out a squeal as my warm butt hit the stone.

Did not think that one through.

“Sure you don’t need help?” Aspen asked. And I swore I heard a smile in his voice. But my arrogant princely jailor didn’t smile or offer help. Maybe the Aspen from before would, though. So, which Aspen was this?

“I’m fine.”

I fussed with my pants and cuffs. When that didn’t work, I stood, placed my freed foot on the loose material, and wrenched my leg back. My pants shucked off. I smiled for a split second before my wobbling balance had my arms pinwheeling in the open air.

Squealing, I splashed into the river.

It was cold. So cold.

Breaking the surface, I sputtered.

Aspen stood on the rock I fell from, took one look at my face, and laughed. Dimples indented his cheeks, and joy sang in the creases of his face.

My eyes grew twice as big as my stomach fluttered at the throaty noise. I knew that laughter. I knew those dimples. I knew the playful tilt of his head and the wonder soothing his normally tight-lipped expression as he held me with his vibrant blues. I was drowning in a sea of pure manifested joy—all light, all goodness, all him—the Aspen Hana spoke of—the Aspen I once knew.

So, what the hell changed? What happened to him?

I wanted to ask, but I feared what he’d say or wouldn’t say.

“Did you want to wash your pants too? Or did that little shriek and flailing limbs mean what I think it meant?” He pointed at my pants floating next to me.

I balled them up and chucked them at his face, keeping an arm around my breasts. “I said not to look!”

He dodged them and shrugged. “You yelped. I had to make sure you were okay.”

Had to make sure I was okay? I haven’t been okay since the moment he took me.

He pointed again. “I think you forgot something.”

The tail of the gauze wrapped around my ribs and floated beside me. I unwound it, curious about how well the wounds were healing.

“No blood. That’s good,” he said, nodding at the soppy fabric.

Yes, it was.

“Can you turn around again so I can check them out without your prying eyes?”

He did but didn’t look happy about it.

I inspected my rib stitches. They still had a little blood on them, but they seemed to be healing nicely. In another day, I bet they could come out. Now, I didn’t know about my thigh stitches. They were tender to touch, more so than my ribs, but I wasn’t about to ask Aspen to look at them, so I assumed they were fine.

While he continued to look the other way, I wiped down my skin and combed through my hair, wishing for a bar of soap and warmer water as I stared at the ruby gem glinting on his neck. I wanted to ask about it. I just needed to say a few words to figure out what was happening. But they stayed trapped in my throat, forced down there by all he’d done and hadn’t done in the past week.

“You have about two more minutes, then I’m turning around.”

After one, I yelped as something long and slimy slithered between my thighs, and he turned around anyway.

“What?” he asked.

Spinning, I looked for the creature that had my heart stuttering. After a few anxious moments of not seeing anything, my heart and breathing calmed, like nothing happened.

“There was something in the water.”

He relaxed his grip on the hilt of his sword. “Yeah. Fish.”

“I don’t like fish.”

His eyebrows rose.

“They’re slimy and have sharp dorsal spines,” I exclaimed.

I could see the difficulty he had holding in his laughter. But it burst out in a light chuckle, sobering me. The words caught in my throat, tickling the tip of my tongue as I stared at his dimples and all they hid.

His smile flattened. “Get out.”

“No. Go back to your tree, turn around, and then I’ll get out.”

“Lucille, get out of the damned water!” he bellowed, pulling at his sword.

I swam as fast as I could toward the bank, nakedness forgotten. Movement splashed a few feet away, sending another rush of fear through me but doing nothing. Why did my purple powers work but not my Glory?

I tried to shove my fear away and latch onto my anger to bring my purple power to the surface, but my fear doubled. Whatever it was, was coming fast, and I wouldn’t reach Aspen in time. Inches from the bank, a slimy tentacle suctioned to my leg. I latched onto a root protruding from the water.

It pulled. I whimpered as my Hellhound wounds screamed at me to let go.

“Aspen!”

My hands slid against the decaying bark, nails gouging lines in the root. Squirming and kicking, I tried to dislodge it, only succeeding in making it squeeze harder. Then, the squeeze turned into a razor-sharp bite.

I cried out. It yanked. My hands slid.

“Lucille!”

Rage and determination pierced through my fear, feelings that weren’t mine, as water hammered into my mouth and up my nose. I was drowning as the tentacle pulled and pulled, not just dragging me, but pulling something inside me, too.

The cloudy river fizzled behind black specs. The lack of air staked its claim as the noise of the beast and a masculine bellow resonated through the thrashing water.

“Lucy, sweetheart, it’s time to wake up,” she said.

“Nooo. Why?” What was it, four in the morning? The birds weren’t even awake yet.

“Sweetie, come on. You have to train and study.”

I groaned, shoving my face further into my pillow. “Why? Because of the deal you made with father?” That reason was getting old. “Let me sleep.”

She pulled my hair to the side, pressing her calloused hand into my back, rubbing circles. I knew what was coming next. A gentle warmth seeped into my spine, sending an arrow of calm straight to the heart of my grouch monster.

“That’s cheating,” I mumbled.

She laughed. “But it makes getting up easier, doesn’t it?” Then something changed. Her hand on my back tingled, or maybe it wasn’t my back. And the bubble of happiness in my chest turned to burning pressure.

“Come on. Breathe, Lucille.”

Electricity tickled my lips.

“Breathe, damn it!”

Pressure built, and within seconds, I heaved and hacked up gritty liquid.

“That’s it. Get it out,” he said as a wet hand rubbed my back, sending that absurdly pleasant tingle across my entire torso.

Wait…

I shifted around, wide-eyeing Aspen who looked soaked through. His surprisingly dry cloak covered my bottom half, which I yanked up to cover my chest.

The river rippled, bringing me back to the cause of the watery puke lingering on my lips. I scurried back, crushing grass, until I hit a tree, curling my knees up to my raging chest. Huddled in his cloak, I watched tentacles undulate in the murky blue. Aspen assessed it, sword out, until the river settled, and the razor-sharp wormy limbs disappeared.

“What—” I heaved.

“Tusoteuthis, a giant ancient squid,” Aspen supplied, sheathing his sword and walking over to me.

“You—sent me into that river—knowing there was a giant—killer squid in it!” My breathing, already uneven, came in and out in angry pants.

Aspen squatted in front of me, composed in the face of my outburst. “Breathe.” He demanded.

“I am,” I yelled, clenching my fists.

The water rippled, and I half expected the creature to fling out its slimy limbs and grab Aspen from behind.

“That squid is an ancient protector of this river. I didn’t expect it to be this far down. It usually stays far North. Now breathe.”

“I’m trying!” I waved around my hands, hyperventilating.

Aspen squeezed the hilt of his sheathed sword. Chaotic thoughts pounded to the beat of my erratic heart. A giant ancient squid of Elora bit me in the leg with tentacle teeth. Wait, my legs.

I lifted Aspen’s cloak, peered down, and touched the back of my thighs while covering myself from view. My fingers came back smeared with blood.

“Shit.”

“Hey, breathe. It’s okay.” Aspen watched me with a solemn expression.

“It’s okay?” I paused to inhale quick breaths. “I drowned.” I inhaled again. “I almost died!” And my wounds were bleeding, which meant I needed to ask for his help once again, proving for the umpteenth time how pitiful and defenseless I was.

“Breathe,” he said, emphasizing his word with a slow breath, like I didn’t know what he meant.

Heavenly hell. “I can’t help it.” Air, I needed air. “This panic stuff—happens!”

Aspen’s face lightened. “Panic attacks?” he asked.

Was he holding back a… laugh? “Are you—mocking me?”

“No, reassessing. I knew you were naive, but I didn’t expect you not to know what a panic attack was.”

“I know—what it is.”

He tilted his head to the side. “And?”

What did Oliver say? “Has to do—with—thoughts.”

Aspen grunted. “More accurately, your fear. So, what are you so scared of, Lucille?”

Him, the man in my head, my mom, this world, the lack of information I had, the queen, my father for reasons I couldn’t remember. Everything. But like hell I’d tell him that. None of this was supposed to happen. I was supposed to go to Elora, find my mom, get my answers, and return to the normal life we were living, not become a prisoner and learn about all the enemies I had. Or learn about how weak I was because my mother refused to train me and my powers.

My vision speckled.

“Breathe, damn it. Stop panicking.”

“That—doesn’t—help!” I heaved.

“What are you so scared of?”

“Why—would—I—tell you?”

He grabbed my face between his palms, forcing me to lock eyes with him. Pleasant electrical shocks tingled my cheeks.

“I said breathe, not stop breathing.”

“You—should’ve thought of that—before grabbing my face,” I snapped, hating that his touch reminded me of before.

He stared at me, blue eyes illuminated, pressing more firmly. Unusual warmth joined the tingles, soothing my chilled skin. A sense of calm washed over me from him. The pressure in my chest eased, and Aspen’s handsome face stopped blurring.

“There, that wasn’t too difficult, was it?”

His soul-piercing gaze rattled me as much as his gentle hands and my uncanny ability to sense his emotions at random. I closed my eyes, wanting to hate every single thing about him. I didn’t want to be attracted to my jailor, nor did I want the tingles against my cheek to affect me so. But as his hands sent tantalizing fire into my skin, I was, and it did.

“How’d you do that?” I whispered, happy that my breaths were back to normal.

“Do what?”

Give me a sense of peace I haven’t found in a long time. I couldn’t say that to him, though. This was the Aspen who took girls to his queen to be tortured, who left me with Brock to be abused. This wasn’t the stranger I met in the woods who wanted me to be safe. No, for some reason, that Aspen disappeared.

“What do you mean, sweetheart?” He brushed his thumb along my cheekbones and tucked strands of my wet hair behind my ear. My slowing heart rate fluttered, ignoring my rational mind.

The nickname didn’t have its usual mocking tone. This time, it was gentle and kind, melting my insides. That wasn’t okay. But in between the melting and my whirling thoughts, the throbbing screamed louder.

“Aspen?”

“Sweetheart?” he whispered back.

Stop. I just wanted him to stop with all his mind games. But I didn’t say that either.

“I need you to get my jacket. There’s a small bag in one of the pockets that I need for my wounds. It’s by the bank.”

“What’s wrong with your wounds?” he demanded, looking down, but his cloak covered me.

“I think my thighs are bleeding more than they should be,” I admitted. My ribs were fine, luckily.

He immediately dropped his hand, the tingles ceasing, and went to grab my jacket. When he came back, he nodded at my legs. “Let me see.”

“But I’m naked,” I said.

He sighed, frustrated. “Fine,” he put the small bag into my hands. “Put that on your wounds. I’ll be back with the needle and thread.”

“What? But the cuffs won’t hinder my quick healing.” Didn’t Hana say this would clot my wounds long enough for my power to kick in?

He shook his head, clearly annoyed. “The Tusoteuthis drains power. It latched onto you briefly, so you’ll be practically human for a bit.”

“How long is a bit?” I exclaimed.

I needed to dream-walk. Plus, when I got these cuffs off and escaped, I would need my flames. I couldn’t be helpless anymore. I almost died from a giant squid because I couldn’t control my powers. This was what Oliver was talking about. I either learned to control them or continue to hurt myself and others.

I loved my mom, but her fears stunted me, and I allowed it. Sure, I understood she was protecting me. But look where we were now. Although I still craved her forced calm and the easy way it silenced my doubts, fears, and hatred, I no longer could be the weak girl who took the abuse. I wouldn’t be, especially when a deadly man I didn’t fully trust invaded my head. He may be looking for my mom; he may even help me escape, but if not, I’d be as ready as I could be to catch the knife before it stabbed me in the back.

Aspen nodded down to my body. “Put that on your wounds. I’ll be back.” Then he left without telling me how long it’d take to get my powers back. It had better not be long. I needed to start practicing my powers now.

“Put that on your wounds.” I quietly mocked while pouring the powder into the cuts on my thighs.

I jumped as Aspen luscelered in front of me. “Don’t do that.”

He threw my shirt into my face. When I pulled it off, the slightest twitch in his lips slowed my movements. The potential view of his dimples filled me with an addicting anticipation and a sadness I couldn’t articulate. But with his smile, he radiated light, drawing me in to understand him again.

“Put them on. I’ll turn around. Tell me when you’re clothed.”

Them?

I looked into my arms and found my shirt, pants, and undergarments. My cheeks flushed at the thought of him touching them, especially unwashed. Mortification tempered the fluttering in my chest. I watched his back while I took off his cloak and dressed.

“Okay,” I said, already hating what was coming next.

Aspen faced me, keeping his eyes level with mine, as he crouched, needle in hand. “This will hurt, but I’ll try my best to make it as painless as possible.”

I searched his face, noticing the soft planes, the openness of his eyes, and the gentle sincerity in his voice—a night and day difference from the guy who withdrew behind a cold mask.

“Okay.”

He nodded to my thighs. “May I?”

For reasons unknown, I gave him a small smile despite my nerves and said, “Oh, are you actually asking, princeling?”

“I do, in fact, know how to do that, sweetheart.”

“Hm… could’ve fooled me with your grabby hands.”

Oh, hell no, I was flirting.

Long lashes hooded his eyes as he peered up at me with twinkling amusement. “Ready?”

“Yeah.” No.

My wounds were inches away from my bottom, inches away from an intimate area, and about to be touched by fingers that vibrated against my skin. I almost hoped for pain, scared of what else I might feel.

“Turn around.”

I bit into my cheeks and turned.

His fingers grazed around my wound, sending tingles into my skin and masking the painful throbbing. The sensation was—was—I couldn’t focus on it without feeling a different throb in a different area. I was lucky Aspen couldn’t see the flush in my cheeks or the way I bit my lip.

“Here I go,” he said, voice sounding shaky.

I tensed. The same odd warmth mingled with the tingles as he held my thigh and then stabbed.

The warmth and buzz pulsated into my body, distracting me from half the pain. Each insertion made me cringe, but I couldn’t imagine what it’d feel like without his help. When he moved onto my next thigh, his hands shifted higher—an inch from my butt. I could not go through another tingly, slightly painful thigh stitching in silence.

“Whose Nalini?” I blurted out. Not the question I originally planned, but my habit of refusing to face the things I feared wasn’t about to go away because of my pretty mental speech from before.

He jerked back, and I winced as he poked me.

“I heard Hana mention her name when you two talked over me.” I didn’t want to mention the gruesome dream-walk I witnessed.

Silence.

I turned. “Aspen?”

Agony tore into his face, bleeding in his eyes and my mind before disappearing right as a red glow flashed and haloed his chin.

“No one,” he said, resolved as if she meant nothing.

I would’ve believed him if I had not seen and felt his pain or remembered how he brushed her hair back and bellowed to the sky.

He returned his hand to my skin, resuming the stitching, and the red light faded into his mark.

I should’ve let it go. But I had a sinking feeling I knew one reason why he might’ve changed.

Back aching, I turned to face the tree again. “I want to understand. One thing. Tell me one thing.”

His hands froze, and utter silence greeted me. Did that mean he remembered my words? Remembered that day?

“Just a sliver,” I whispered.

“Not the whole moon,” he whispered back in a broken voice.

An ache built in my chest from our combined pain, bringing tears to my eyes. He remembered. I almost wished he didn’t. I wished I didn’t, because it changed nothing. A heavy weight filled the quiet as he sewed the last few stitches, resting his hands on my leg.

“Nalini was the first person I ever loved.” His voice grew hushed. “Then she was murdered.”

A crushing weight enveloped my chest. I could taste his sorrow as it bled off my eyelashes and hit the corner of my lips. My hands twitched, wanting to push off the ground and comfort him. But he was my captor.

“All done,” he said.

Nervous, I flipped over and met his face. “Who did it?”

He stood. “Who did what?”

I furrowed my brows. I couldn’t feel his pain, and his chin glowed. “Who murdered Nalini?”

The red mark darkened from crimson red to red the color of dried blood.

“Nalini died because of crimes against my queen,” he growled.

I narrowed my eyes at his chin. “But she was murdered.”

He ignored me and turned to leave. I shot out my arm, stopping him. “Aspen.”

He stared at my fingers on his as I watched the red light fade back into his skin. The mask covering the destruction in his face fell, and the block on his pain, like my touch brought him back to himself and reinforced our connection.

When he looked up from my touch and I saw the glassy blue, it was difficult to think of him as my captor. He looked more like a guy ruined by his past.

“Don’t look at me like that.” He pulled away from my hand, picking up his cloak to crouch down and cover my bottom half. “I’m your enemy, Lucille.”

He was right, and yet I already needed another reminder as he double-checked that he’d covered every inch of my exposed skin.

“Is this you giving me the moon?”

Aspen lifted his head and gripped my chin, staring at me with a severeness that stopped my breath. “If I could ever give you the moon, I’d start by taking you away from here. Then I’d ensure no one ever found us and destroy anyone who did. But as you can see, Elora’s moon is blue, dyed by the sorrows of failure, broken promises, and power. So I can’t give you the moon, Lucille. I can’t give you anything.” He punctuated his words with the drop of his hand. Brock rounded a bush just as Aspen stood and said, “Stay away from the water.”

“Everything alright?” Brock asked, glancing between us. I watched him note my state and pants off to the side.

“Yes,” Aspen said, then left, worsening the ache in my chest.

“Get dressed, we’re leaving,” Brock ordered.

“Drag your wrinkly ass back to camp, and I will.”

Shit. Why’d I say that?

“Watch yourself. Just because Prince Aspen’s had a change of heart about playing with our prisoners doesn’t mean accidents can’t happen.”

That tidbit didn’t bode well for the butterflies confusing my mind about my princely jailor—not after his speech, when his words made poetic sense, but the emotion in his eyes told a different story. He was the enemy. I knew that, and yet something prompted me to reconsider.

Brock chuckled. “Don’t think that means anything, angel. The prince received correspondence after the Hellhound attack stating the queen wants you mostly intact and healthy.”

Is that why he continued to save me? For his worthless queen?

“Now you understand,” Brock smiled, sensing my emotional downturn. “Hurry up, or I’ll drag you back half-naked. She said mostly.”

At the tip of my tongue lingered curses and insults I wanted to spew into his loose-skinned face. Knowing his threat wasn’t empty, I kept the hateful words in my eyes, and my lips pressed together.

Like the despicable old man he was, he watched as I shimmied on my pants underneath Aspen’s cloak. My power tickled my fingers at the leer twisting his lips.

Why did Aspen leave me with him?

To my horror, I had to have Brock hold my arm to keep me steady on our way back. He didn’t trip me for fun like I thought he would, but he got in some shoves, laughing when I winced.

At camp, he dragged me past the doused fire and the demons, then shoved me into Aspen’s back. “Here, your prisoner,” he said, forcing me to latch onto Aspen’s arms so I didn’t fall.

Aspen turned, taking my arm to steady me, and eyed Brock. “You’re driving first, and she’s sitting up there with you,” he stated, dropping my arm to leave.

Brock grabbed him. “You need to re-cuff her, Prince Aspen. She can’t think she can escape.”

The chill morning air heated to suffocating levels. A pulse vibrated through the building tension. Flames licked Aspen’s neck, trailing down to his leathered arm. He turned to face Brock, smiling with malicious intent. “If you want to keep that hand, I’d remove it, Brockalian.”

He snatched his hand back.

The heat died down, bringing relief to my sweaty forehead. Aspen pulled back his flames, only keeping them in his irises. “Do not touch me. Do not give me orders. I know how to treat our prisoners.” He stepped chest to chest with Brock. “You work for us. Go to your position.”

Brock licked his yellow teeth, fisting his hands. “Yes, Prince Aspen,” he finally gritted out, whirling around to the front of the carriage.

The flames calmed when he addressed me.

“Don’t you dare,” I said, not caring he almost incinerated Brock’s hand. If double-cuffing one leg still blocked my power, I didn’t need them attached to both. It mortified me to trip and shuffle around. But really, I needed to be able to run when the time came.

Aspen dropped to the ground, lifting my pants leg. He made quick work of unlocking and cuffing my other ankle.

I seared my gaze into his coffee locks, wishing to burn it all off.

He stood. “There’s leftover squirrel in the back.”

“To hell with your squirrel.” I turned and jangled like the prisoner I was to the front of the carriage.

“You need to eat.”

I snorted. “And you need to stop acting like you care, enemy. Your worthless queen will be just fine with a half-starved prisoner.”

If I turned around, I’d bet all my currently inaccessible powers on the fact that the prince’s eyes were back to flaming. That thought alone brought a satisfied smile to my lips as I sat on the driver’s seat next to the most loathsome fallen angel.

Brock may want to slice and dice me, and some part of me understood that. But Aspen, with his random laughter, the way he touched me, the way his voice broke—I honestly felt like it was all a twisted game.

I stared at my ankle cuffs and let the image and meaning pound reality back into me, wiping away the useless feelings attempting to surface for a guy who only wanted me for his queen.

Bastards. All of them.

“Always so angry or sad,” Brock commented.

“I can tell that pleases you, Searcher.”

He jerked. “How do you know that title?”

I smiled to myself, thinking about the man in my head, and shrugged. “How indeed.”

My smug smile dropped at the fist he slammed into our seat, missing my leg by inches. Two raps on the wood diffused the tension, signaling Brock to drive. He gave me one last menacing stare and picked up the reins.

“Accidents happen. Remember that.”

I’d have to be a lot more careful with my words around Brock, or I wouldn’t be able to escape if I was beaten to a pulp. But confirming that the man in my head wasn’t lying or a figment of my subconscious dreams was reassuring. Which meant I’d be gone by the end of the day.

Let’s hope my powers returned by then.