Page 71 of Heart of Shadows

“Better?” he asked levelly, with no hint of the coldness she had felt at their last encounter—or the threat of violence he had just made.

“Yes. Thank you,” she whispered.

“What have you told them?”

Them? Not us? “Nothing. I mean, I found the stone. I didn’t steal it from the king. Please believe me.” She shifted in the chair, desperate to escape, but her legs were still tied to it.

“I believe you,” he said quietly, much to her surprise. His voice was low, his words gentle, and that violet stare penetrated to the centre of her soul. He was a lifeline that she did not want to cling onto—but he was her only way out. His hands lowered to her leg restraints, then halted, his fingers brushing against her ankles. “Did you mention anything of me?”

She paused, brows furrowed. “No. Why?”

“Good.” He untied her. “Can you stand?”

I’m not sure, she thought, but she would not admit it. She started to push herself up on shaky legs, but Dimitrius held up a hand.

“Not yet. I need you to follow my lead. Can you do that? I promise, I will see you out of here alive.”

She stilled at his words and met his gaze. So I won’t leave here alive if I don’t? Harper swallowed, nodding. “I can do that. You promise?”

“I promise once. I promise twice. I promise thrice.”

Warmth flared across Harper’s skin. A tingle of unease curled in her belly at the recognition of magic in his words.

A weary smile of relief formed on his face. “Do as I say, and I shall make our escape quick.”

Harper nodded, consumed by a strange blend of fear and confusion that left her nauseous. For once, she was glad of an empty stomach.

“Follow me.”

53

HARPER

Harper stumbled after Dimitrius. Relief leapt in her, but she dared not believe she was free. Dimitrius had his own agenda. She just did not know what it was, and she did not know whether to be more scared of that or the torture she had just escaped.

Dimitrius opened the door and strode out. Harper followed. The guard’s instant advance made her stomach lurch. Their unfamiliar language flew off his tongue with the same strange lilt Aedon spoke with. She shoved him from her thoughts. It was too painful to think of her mistake now when she was so vulnerable, and when Aedon and his friends’ misgivings had proved so right. The discussion became heated between the guards, the cloaked elf, and Dimitrius, but with a final threat that was clear from his tone even across tongues, the others retreated and left the way clear.

He strode with purpose as Harper staggered after, bolstered by whatever magics he had cast upon her but still exhausted and only kept on her feet by terror and desperation. He took her through a labyrinth of tunnels until she was even more disorientated. Finally, he slowed and stopped, and she too halted with relief. At an involuntary wobble, Dimitrius’s hand closed around her upper arm to steady her. Warm. Solid. She was too exhausted to hate herself for finding comfort in the contact. Her eyes fluttered shut and she took in a deep, shaking breath. When she opened them, the world was still spinning and her legs threatened to buckle.

“Close your eyes.”

She looked up at him, a question in her expression.

He smiled—grim, but sincere. “Trust me. Close your eyes.”

Trust him? She was not sure whether she could—and definitely certain she shouldn’t—but there was little other option. Harper closed her eyes. His hand on her arm was the only steadying touch as a strange tugging sensation pulled her this way and that. Light flared and warmth surrounded her. The scent of lemon and his musk. Silence blanketed. She opened her eyes and gasped. She was somewhere entirely different—and for a second, that had felt so familiar to how the Dragonheart had taken her.

It was more luxury than Harper had ever seen. She drank it in, mouth open. Sumptuous rugs and furs covered almost every inch of polished wood or stone floors. Drapes made of fabrics finer than those she wore framed tall windows that reached up to high, ornate ceilings. It was dark outside. She fleetingly wondered what time it was and how many days had passed in the cell. Fine furnishings filled the large space—plush sofas, book cases, side tables, framed paintings, dark cabinets—and metal chandeliers and lamps burned with none of the soot and stench of the tavern’s tallow candles, but a floral scent that left her refreshed and dizzy with its sweetness. Harper started as Dimitrius’s hand left her arm.

“You are safe for now. These are my quarters. We will not be disturbed here. I shall make sure of it. Would you care to wash?” He gestured to a separate room, behind an ajar and intricately carved redwood door.

She did not answer as she huddled into her cloak, feeling suddenly aware of how painfully out of place she was… and just how filthy.

Dimitrius’s lips twitched, trying to hide a smile. “I offer you a chance to regain some of your dignity. Please, take me up on the offer. You could use a wash.”

Harper’s ears burned and indignant retorts burned on her tongue so fast she could not utter more than an unintelligible noise of frustration in retort. It would be nice to wash, but she bridled at his insult. She considered refusing just to spite him.

“If you want to punish me, feel free not to bathe,” he said airily—he had seen the flash of stubbornness pass across her face, then. “But the offer is there.” He waved at the open door. It was too tempting, and she had no clarity of thought left to evaluate her position.

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