Page 24 of The Princes of Stone and Steel

The little sanctuary illuminated faintly enough for Millicent to see Mármaro reach back into the thicket, snapping off a rather large bunch of sticks and leaves, which he dropped onto the small fire, flooding the room in a soft amber light. He removed a rock from overhead held in place by two stone shunts, allowing the gray smoke to billow out the top.

Millicent’s breaths struggled as a whisper of small inhales and smaller exhales, much like a fish left without water. “W-Why do I f-f-feel s-so cold, s-so weak?”

“The Akhlys mist, the mist of death. It prowls the outliers at night.”

“P-Prowls? You s-say th-that l-like it’s alive.”

“Shh…” Mármaro stroked her hair. “You need to rest. Just rest.”

Twelve

We’re headed for the outliers?

“GET UP!” MY EYES OPENED TO THAT HORRIBLE lady in waiting shaking me once again. “Get up, girl. Come on. You need to dress.” Catena, I think the prince called her yesterday or this morning, who even knew anymore? Days, minutes, hours, centuries all sped up and slowed down in a jumbled mass of confusion since my arrival.

Maybe time had actually stopped, certainly time as I knew it. We ran on alternate time here. My head ached just thinking about it.

That didn’t stop the shrillness of her words, though. “I said, get up!”

I thought she might have actually enjoyed tormenting me. Something I was pretty certain of was this woman had cautionary tale written all over her. As in, she made that horrible scowling face one time too many and it froze that way. I wasn’t sure anyone could get me to believe otherwise, seeing as it’s the only face I’d seen on her since I had the unfortunate circumstance to meet her.

Nevertheless, I took the dress she offered, this one a pale pink. I held it in front of me to admire the cut and style. Steele made sure the castle offered up hospitality with a soft bed and beautiful clothing.

“You’re to walk the grounds again after you eat.” Her scowled lip curled at the corner in a sneer meant to drive home her obvious disdain for me or for having to wait on a prisoner, or maybe even both. Probably both. As if her nasty face didn’t already do that.

“Do… Do you think it would be all right if I wore pants today?”

Her look shifted so quickly from disdain to horror, if it hadn’t been directed at me, I’d have found the whole thing hilarious.

“Excuse me?” she asked, flattening her hand over her heart.

“Pants. Would it be all right for me to wear them? I’m feeling a little exposed here.”

“Nonsense. You’re a woman. You will not disrespect the prince in such a manner. You’re lucky to make his audience in the first place. Besides, he personally requested you wear this. We do not deny requests from His Royal Highness.”

Well, he wanted me to remember our past so desperately, maybe today’s dress would somehow help jog loose some morsel of the history that still evaded me.

The fabric draped over my head, falling effortlessly to the floor, needing to be tied up the back. As I slipped on the same spun gold sandals, Catena secured my hair in a loose bun, wisps of stray hair framing my face.

“There,” she said, stepping back to admire her handiwork. “Now you are respectable enough to meet a prince.”

So she might have been right. Although I knew for a fact he liked me just as well in my painted-on jeans and vest top, I felt like the true mate of a prince in the silky frock.

When had I started to accept his word as truth? I would’ve thought that being someone’s true mate would grant them a pass to the front of the memory line. If we had this grand connection, then why couldn’t I remember? Why Mármaro and not Steele? It made no sense.

We briskly walked from my room and down the corridor, which displayed lavish tapestries hanging from shining hooks on the walls, warming up the space so all the metallics didn’t feel so cold or unwelcoming in our little part of the castle.

Not that we got very far before we were stopped by another servant. A male in brown leggings and a tunic. “His Royal Highness wishes to take possession of the lady now.”

“She hasn’t eaten,” said Catena. “We were on our way to the kitchen.”

“Should I tell Prince Aereus you declined to obey his order?” Although there was no emotion to his tone, he raised an eyebrow in challenge to the lady in waiting, his hands clasped tightly in front of him. Only I noticed the slight tremor in his squeezed hands. He wanted a fight with the woman. I supposed I wasn’t the only one she prickled the wrong way.

“Mercy, no.” Catena finally relented. “Take the girl.” And no doubt she was glad to be rid of me.

They transferred custody of me, and although I was quite hungry, my desire to see Steele again outweighed any pangs.

The corridor we switched to broadened into a grand foyer. The cathedral ceiling domed at its highest point. All metal and glass, flooding the room in natural light, which led the eye to a massive door, ornately-molded or sculpted, however such beauty would be created in metal.

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