She noticed he was awake. Her tea-brown eyes caught on his, and their gazes locked for one minute, then two. They stared at each other, like two predators stumbling into the same clearing, not yet ready to fight, but not ready to run, either. She frowned at him with eyebrows that arched elegantly over delicate skin. Her red hair was tied tightly in a bun at the nape of her neck. Her dark leather garments tailored themselves to her athletic form, both striking and threatening. She was studying him as he studied her. She seemed content with staring till the sun set and the moon rose.
Finally, he looked away. He shifted uncomfortably in the dirt and looked down at the short chain between the shackles, realizing suddenly that her study included some of his more private bits. He cleared his throat, hoping to work up his nerve.
“Well, then. This is not much of a proper introduction. You already know my name, aren’t you going to tell me yours?” he said.
The wind through the trees picked up ominously. He realized abruptly that he didn’t need to stop it, worry about it, or try to hide it. A strange, devious thrill jumped through him—so strong, it frightened him a little.
“No,” she said simply. She glanced around at the leaves falling gracefully from the wind’s meddling. A yellow leaf fluttered past her face. By the gods, what a striking image. She was almost as beautiful as autumn in all its sunny glory. If only he weren’t naked in the dirt with his wrists shackled, perhaps he could more properly enjoy it.
“No? Well, that’s not very civil.” Talking might get her talking, even if it was nonsense.
She rolled her eyes and stood up from her crouch. “You don’t need to know,” she said as she turned her back on him and looked past the tree as if searching for something or someone approaching.
Did she have others joining her? Perhaps she would hand him off to someone else now. What was she planning? Was she going to kill him here in the woods? Really, that didn’t seem likely. She could have done that already by dropping his tiny furry body hundreds of feet into the snow, or slicing his throat while he lay unconscious. So she must have some use for him first. Or she meant to kidnap him.
She must be a mage, he thought, but what kind? Damn, if only he’d gotten to read more of that book. He’d been so close to so much more knowledge. She could not be an air mage, like him.
“You’re a creature mage, aren’t you?” he said to her back.
She raised her eyebrows, mocking as she peered over her shoulder at him. “What powers of observation.”
“Why have you brought me here?” he demanded.
Amused, she turned back to face him. She folded her arms in front of her and leaned against the side of the tree. “My, my, we are full of questions. Do princes in Akaria always get their questions answered at every beck and call?”
It was his turn to glare. “When questions are asked civilly, then usually, yes, they do.”
She laughed—a beautiful, musical laugh, but with a dash of dark bitterness. “Well, this is clearly not a civil situation, is it, little prince.”
She turned away from him again.
“What are you looking for?” he demanded.
She didn’t answer. After a moment or two, she whistled a few low, lovely notes. Then she turned back to him.
He returned her gaze for a few moments. Her face was a little amused, unafraid. She was watching him, he realized. Not studying, just making sure he didn’t try to run away. Guarding him. He glanced around. The forest seemed to stretch in all directions, at least to the tops of the hills and the bends in the paths that he could see. They were in the middle of nowhere. The mountains were to the north of them, where he was pretty sure they’d come from.
Well, it was unsurprising that she wouldn’t give him a name. Clearly, she wasn’t trying to make friends. And why should she tell him her plans? She might be holding him here for someone to arrive. Or she planned to do something to him or take him somewhere. None of these things were likely to be things he’d want to go along with, or he wouldn’t be sitting there in shackles in the first place.
But did it really require him to be naked? Yes or no, digging into that might tell him something.
“What happened to my clothes?” he said finally.
“Oh,” she said. She dug into a pack beside her, pulled out something gray, and tossed it at him, then something else. “There.” His shirt flew toward him, and he brought up his hands to catch it but missed. To his surprise, however, the shirt flew straight through the shackle in the chain and hit him in the chest.
Forgetting the clothes for a moment, he held one hand up in the air and grabbed at the chain with the other. Nothing. He could not grasp it. But as he moved his hands apart, the chain pulled taut and would not let his hands farther apart than his shoulders.
“It’s invisible, too.” Her voice cut into his thoughts. “You’re the only one that can see it. But that little trick you just saw will make putting your shirt on easier.”
What strange magic was this? He sat staring at the shackles a while longer and then shrugged and started putting on his shirt. By the time he had his pants and underclothes on, his boots were thrown at his feet, and he put them on, too.
Hoof beats approached. Two horses cantered toward them, one golden and saddled, the other light gray with dramatic, dark hair. The creatures stopped just before his captor.
The whistle, he thought. She had called them with magic. There were so many things he didn’t know. He simply stood, dumbfounded, watching her whispering to them. If he could forget the journey here and her likely vicious intentions, it was an enchanting scene. Perhaps he’d been too long under the mountain, but between the glorious sunlight, the vibrant leaves, the majestic horses, and the way the sun caught in her fiery hair, the beauty of his surroundings made him catch his breath for a moment.
She glanced sideways at him. He looked away. She focused on the horses, checking them over, no longer watching him.
No longer watching him…
No time to think it through—he took off running in the opposite direction.
Strangely, the chain on the shackles made no sound, but his feet in the leaves sure did. She made no acknowledgement that she’d seen him go, and he couldn’t waste the time or energy to look back. He just went for it, fast as he could, dodging tree trunks and branches.
Then, without warning, the ground in front of him broke open and thin, wiry black vines leapt from the ground, swirling and twisting around each other until a wall of brambles rose in front of him, stopping his path.
Finally, he looked away. He shifted uncomfortably in the dirt and looked down at the short chain between the shackles, realizing suddenly that her study included some of his more private bits. He cleared his throat, hoping to work up his nerve.
“Well, then. This is not much of a proper introduction. You already know my name, aren’t you going to tell me yours?” he said.
The wind through the trees picked up ominously. He realized abruptly that he didn’t need to stop it, worry about it, or try to hide it. A strange, devious thrill jumped through him—so strong, it frightened him a little.
“No,” she said simply. She glanced around at the leaves falling gracefully from the wind’s meddling. A yellow leaf fluttered past her face. By the gods, what a striking image. She was almost as beautiful as autumn in all its sunny glory. If only he weren’t naked in the dirt with his wrists shackled, perhaps he could more properly enjoy it.
“No? Well, that’s not very civil.” Talking might get her talking, even if it was nonsense.
She rolled her eyes and stood up from her crouch. “You don’t need to know,” she said as she turned her back on him and looked past the tree as if searching for something or someone approaching.
Did she have others joining her? Perhaps she would hand him off to someone else now. What was she planning? Was she going to kill him here in the woods? Really, that didn’t seem likely. She could have done that already by dropping his tiny furry body hundreds of feet into the snow, or slicing his throat while he lay unconscious. So she must have some use for him first. Or she meant to kidnap him.
She must be a mage, he thought, but what kind? Damn, if only he’d gotten to read more of that book. He’d been so close to so much more knowledge. She could not be an air mage, like him.
“You’re a creature mage, aren’t you?” he said to her back.
She raised her eyebrows, mocking as she peered over her shoulder at him. “What powers of observation.”
“Why have you brought me here?” he demanded.
Amused, she turned back to face him. She folded her arms in front of her and leaned against the side of the tree. “My, my, we are full of questions. Do princes in Akaria always get their questions answered at every beck and call?”
It was his turn to glare. “When questions are asked civilly, then usually, yes, they do.”
She laughed—a beautiful, musical laugh, but with a dash of dark bitterness. “Well, this is clearly not a civil situation, is it, little prince.”
She turned away from him again.
“What are you looking for?” he demanded.
She didn’t answer. After a moment or two, she whistled a few low, lovely notes. Then she turned back to him.
He returned her gaze for a few moments. Her face was a little amused, unafraid. She was watching him, he realized. Not studying, just making sure he didn’t try to run away. Guarding him. He glanced around. The forest seemed to stretch in all directions, at least to the tops of the hills and the bends in the paths that he could see. They were in the middle of nowhere. The mountains were to the north of them, where he was pretty sure they’d come from.
Well, it was unsurprising that she wouldn’t give him a name. Clearly, she wasn’t trying to make friends. And why should she tell him her plans? She might be holding him here for someone to arrive. Or she planned to do something to him or take him somewhere. None of these things were likely to be things he’d want to go along with, or he wouldn’t be sitting there in shackles in the first place.
But did it really require him to be naked? Yes or no, digging into that might tell him something.
“What happened to my clothes?” he said finally.
“Oh,” she said. She dug into a pack beside her, pulled out something gray, and tossed it at him, then something else. “There.” His shirt flew toward him, and he brought up his hands to catch it but missed. To his surprise, however, the shirt flew straight through the shackle in the chain and hit him in the chest.
Forgetting the clothes for a moment, he held one hand up in the air and grabbed at the chain with the other. Nothing. He could not grasp it. But as he moved his hands apart, the chain pulled taut and would not let his hands farther apart than his shoulders.
“It’s invisible, too.” Her voice cut into his thoughts. “You’re the only one that can see it. But that little trick you just saw will make putting your shirt on easier.”
What strange magic was this? He sat staring at the shackles a while longer and then shrugged and started putting on his shirt. By the time he had his pants and underclothes on, his boots were thrown at his feet, and he put them on, too.
Hoof beats approached. Two horses cantered toward them, one golden and saddled, the other light gray with dramatic, dark hair. The creatures stopped just before his captor.
The whistle, he thought. She had called them with magic. There were so many things he didn’t know. He simply stood, dumbfounded, watching her whispering to them. If he could forget the journey here and her likely vicious intentions, it was an enchanting scene. Perhaps he’d been too long under the mountain, but between the glorious sunlight, the vibrant leaves, the majestic horses, and the way the sun caught in her fiery hair, the beauty of his surroundings made him catch his breath for a moment.
She glanced sideways at him. He looked away. She focused on the horses, checking them over, no longer watching him.
No longer watching him…
No time to think it through—he took off running in the opposite direction.
Strangely, the chain on the shackles made no sound, but his feet in the leaves sure did. She made no acknowledgement that she’d seen him go, and he couldn’t waste the time or energy to look back. He just went for it, fast as he could, dodging tree trunks and branches.
Then, without warning, the ground in front of him broke open and thin, wiry black vines leapt from the ground, swirling and twisting around each other until a wall of brambles rose in front of him, stopping his path.
