Page 31 of Bride to the Fiend Prince
“Just get on with it,” I mumbled. “Show me this thing you keep talking about.”
“It’s right this way—if it’s still here.”
He led me along a short corridor, which ended in a thick-plated iron door. No one was on guard there, perhaps because nothing and no one could ever enter such a well-defended entrance. I could not even count the number of locks and bars and bolts securing it, in addition to magical sigils that glowed faintly red. The door seemed impossibly huge, so big that three or four horses could have charged through it abreast.
“It’s in here?” I ran my finger along one of the bars.
“It was.” The Prince unlatched a few smaller bars and swung aside a great metal shutter, revealing a thick pane of polished quartz, nearly transparent. “Look through, Princess, and witness the instrument of my doom.”
Through the clear slab of stone I glimpsed a room dimly lit by the Cursed Palace’s ubiquitous amber crystals. In the center of the chamber swayed a hulking shape—leathery wrinkled skin, mountainous shoulders, and a blunted head with six tiny eyes that swiveled wildly back and forth. The creature was big as a cottage, with great sagging jowls that dripped saliva onto the stone floor. Where the saliva struck, it sizzled and smoked. The walls of the room had been scored over and over by the beast’s claws—claws that gleamed poisonous green in the gloom.
“What is that?” I breathed.
The Prince leaned in next to me, the waves of his black hair tickling my cheek. The licorice-and-pepper scent of him spiked in my nostrils, a heady wicked fragrance that made me want to kiss his mouth, to see if it tasted as deliciously spicy as he smelled. I blinked away those thoughts and focused hard on this revelation, thisthingthat had somehow taken his magic.
He spoke in a low, regretful tone, tinged with awe. “That is a monster of the ancient world, unearthed and dragged here as an inanimate carcass—then revived by the darkest and most powerful spells ever wrought in Terelaus—or anywhere else in the world.”
“Powerful magic? Like the magic wielded by Andreas, your father’s chief sorcerer? Did Andreas bring an ancient monster to life?”
“Andreas, yes, and other sorcerers in my father’s employ. And it cost the life-blood of two dozen Terelonians. I was there when the sorcerers performed those human sacrifices and woke the beast. I tried to stop them from slaughtering our own people to feed that creature’s vitality, but I failed. And when the monster broke out of its bonds and attacked us all, I was one of the victims.”
I gasped with understanding. “That’s where your scars came from.”
“Yes. The monster tore into me with poisoned claws, and its toxin neutralized my powers. My superior strength disappeared, along with my other abilities. My father demanded that his sorcerers heal me, but many had been damaged in the attack and had lost their own innate abilities. The ones who were left could not knit my ravaged flesh together—it was contaminated by the poison, and my body resisted their magic. I barely survived, and I was left with a visible mark of that night.”
Shock and disbelief colored my tone. “Why would your father want to restore life to a long-dead monster?”
“Because of its—” But the Prince broke off suddenly as voices echoed along the hallway, the one adjoining our bit of corridor.
“Someone is coming,” he whispered, his eyes frantic. “We’re not supposed to be here.” He closed the metal door over the window and replaced the latches.
“Is there another passage?” My own whisper was tremulous. “A way out?”
“No. But perhaps—” He fumbled with the handles of nearby doors. One gave way, and he pushed me through it, following me in and shutting the door quietly.
The small space we’d squeezed into was as stuffy as the secret passage from the library had been. I chafed and squirmed against the shelves sticking into my back.
“Be still.” The Prince’s words were barely audible, a breath against my forehead. He was jammed right against me, and I thanked the stars he wasn’t in his bulkier muscled form, or we would never have both fit into the closet.
The voices grew louder. Probably a patrol coming to check on the monster’s cell.
“All quiet, as usual,” said a female voice. “Let’s move on.”
“We need to check the bolts and locks,” replied a male voice. “And we’re supposed to test the magic seals, too. You know the drill.”
“It takes so long,” groaned the woman. “No need to do it every round.”
“I won’t be the one blamed for a security breach,” replied the man stoically. “We check it all.”
I bit back a groan. I would have to spend an indefinite number of minutes pinned against the Fiend Prince, barely able to breath the musty air. I couldn’t stand tiny spaces like this. Being confined with no way to move freely, no route of escape or room to fight—I couldn’t stand it. I couldn’t be still. Sweat broke out on my forehead and under my arms. If we didn’t get out soon, I was going to burst.
Desperate, I reached for the Prince’s hands and gripped them spastically, trying to communicate my panic to him. He shifted closer, and his profile skimmed against mine in the dark, nuzzling gently, a soothing brush of skin. He hadn’t shaved, and his jaw was lightly stubbled. As his rough cheek grazed my smooth one, I felt a delicate tingle deep inside me.
I went perfectly still.
The Prince’s lips skimmed my cheek, his soft breath warming the hollow of my ear. Mutely, instinctively, I yearned toward him, the tips of our noses bumping lightly, nudging. My lips parted, accepting his light exhale. I tingled all over, a buzzing ache rolling through me, my hips pressing to his.
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