Page 40 of Apples Dipped in Gold

“I’ll be quicker, I promise,” she said, taking a step back.

The alarm in her voice was upsetting, because I had scared her. In the face of her fear, my frustration was not important.

“You do not have to be quick,” I said. “Let me carry you.”

“I do not want to be a burden,” she said.

“You have been awake too long, and you need rest. We will not reach a safe place to stay for another few miles,” I said, having already decided that I would venture into my brother’s kingdom, the Kingdom of Larkspur. I dreaded the visit, but the fucker had soft beds and breakfast, two things I doubted Samara had in a long time. “Let me carry you.”

I waited for her response, overwhelmed by the urge to touch her.

Finally, she nodded and held my gaze as I shifted closer. When I placed my hand on her back, she felt rigid.

“Be at ease, Samara,” I said. “I am not angry with you.”

“Perhaps not this second,” she said. “But you are angry.”

I said nothing, because that was true.

“Put your arms around my neck,” I said as I bent and picked her up. Up until this moment, I had been able to mostly ignore the phantom pain shooting from my stump up my right arm in favor of my anger, but now it was all I could feel—that and the fact that Samara’s face was only inches from mine. It made me think of how close I’d come to kissing her beneath the elfin hill, something I had dreamed about for seven long years.

Something that had cursed me for just as long.

Maybe holding her was a terrible idea.

“Are you okay?” she whispered.

My brows rose, surprised by her question. Looking at her now, I could not figure out why I’d been so angry with her.

“I am okay,” I said. “Why do you ask, wild one?”

“Because you are staring,” she said.

I smiled a little. “I am just admiring you.”

She said nothing, but her expression was suspicious, as if she believed there was nothing about her to appreciate. I did not know how to help her see herself the way I did—beautiful and kind, someone worthy of more than I was even capable of giving.

“Sleep, Samara,” I said. “I will take care of you.”

She watched me for a few more minutes before closing her eyes, and I started our journey again, the fox trotting ahead. I was conflicted as I held her, torn between comfort and anguish. My body had yet to let go of the feeling she’d stirred up in the grove, and having her this close only brought everything rushing back.

I had wanted to kiss her, but I could not bring myself to do it, too afraid I would scare her away, but my greatest hesitancy was that she did not know who I was.

She did not know that I was the hand with the knife.

“In the grove under the elfin hill,” she said.

Her voice sounded like a scream in the quiet night, and her eyes remained closed. I did not know if she could no longer keep them open or if she did not want to look at me as she spoke. My heart raced as I waited for the rest of her words, realizing that she too was thinking about the same thing.

She continued, “When we danced and you said my name…was that a spell?”

“A spell?” I was confused and also disappointed.

“Fox said that names have power,” she explained. “When you said my name…I felt…like I had lost control.”

I swallowed hard. I had felt that way since I met her.

“No,” I said. “It was not a spell.”

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