Page 49 of Cinder
Prince Lorenz said nothing, simply stroking Cin’s back, and for that he was grateful. This didn’t seem the time for words.
He set Perdition between his legs as he reached beneath his shirt to unwrap his chest binding. As the fabric loosened, his body instinctively took a deep breath for what felt like the first time in ages, the inhalation shooting pain between his ribs like just filling his lungs was enough to tear his flesh apart. Before his disgust could stop him, he pulled the binding free. The immediate weight of his breasts made him cringe, but he tried his best to ignore it as he wrapped Perdition up in his chest binding and tied the little sling of her to his sternum. She nuzzled into his skin, then went quiet.
“Will she be all right?” Prince Lorenz whispered.
Cin cupped his hand over Perdition’s sleeping form, cradled her against his pained ribs. His heart beat against hers beneath their seemingly eternal binding. As he closed his eyes, he could feel the answer building soft and strong in her little body.
“She will, with time.”
For him,throughhim, Perdition would live. But because of him—because of his damned chest—she nearly hadn’t. That wasnot something he was willing to risk again. Not if there was any way around it.
Prince Lorenz slipped two fingers under Cin’s chin, lifting it back up until their gazes met. He seemed to look into Cin’s soul, taking in all of his complexity with a gentle hunger. “Willyoube?”
The question caught Cin so off-guard that he could feel the confusion shift across his own features before it occurred to him how odd it was to have anyone care for his wellbeing in this way. “Why do you ask?”
“You’re hurt,” Prince Lorenz stated, nodding downward. Somehow, he had noticed Cin awkwardly adjusting around it.
Cin grimaced. “It’s an old injury. My chest binding aggravates it, as does any pressure or support for my chest, but it’s growing worse and worse these last few months.”
“Is there anything that can be done?”
The thought of the prince of Hallin trying to fix Cin’s troubles felt so impossibly unreal, yet here he was, as thoughtful and kind in this as with every other piece of Cin’s being.
“Only a powerful magic, beyond what most elves or mortals could conjure,” Cin told him, stupidly, selfishness, just a little hopeful, “I’ve been too… too complacent to search for a source, but I think now I have to. I can’t go on like this, not as the Menace, but not as myself either.”
Prince Lorenz’s hand drifted to his chest, resting against his heart so subtly that Cin would have thought nothing of it, had he not seen the same motion time and time again. The prince’s fingers dropped as soon Cin took notice, though, his gaze moving away, growing harder—more distant.
Cin reached for him. “If you know of—”
The prince shook his head sharply, and though he didn’t seem to move away, Cin’s fingers didn’t quite make contact. “That typeof magic is dangerous, and dark more often than not. It requires something of yourself in return.”
“Some things are worth the sacrifice, if it makes you more yourself in the long run.”
A faint smile crossed Prince Lorenz’s lips. “That’s a rare find, my dove. But I… I trust you.” His fingers twitched, and he glanced out toward the castle’s front, then back to Cin. “Were you planning to leave now? You could always stay the night, you know. I can commandeer you a room here.”
“You are already in enough trouble, Your Royal Highness.” And there was a pinch building behind Cin’s heart that wouldn’t let go, a gut feeling that to stay would sacrifice more than just his family’s compassion. This night he was called to other things. He squeezed the prince’s fingers. “But I will be back next week. As early as I can get away.”
“I will be waiting.” Prince Lorenz lifted both of Cin’s hands to his lips one after the other, before dropping them so slowly it seemed he was trying to memorize every curve and wrinkle and callus of Cin’s fingers in the process. He leaned in after, his mouth brushing Cin’s ear as he whispered, “Stay safe, my Menace.”
And despite the pain those words fashioned in Cin’s chest, he couldn’t help but smile.
No one stopped Cin on his way out. It was eerie to go from being sought out to purposefully ignored, but with how worn out Cin found himself, he was glad to return tohis usual invisibility. The lively city atmosphere had faded—a bad sign if Cin had any hope of getting home before his family—and as he rode onward, the gathered castle birds slowly began to peel away, until there was only Lacey and Ragimund left to follow him out into the farmland, keeping a watchful distance as though they were two tiny scouts in the darkness.
With Perdition strapped to his chest, Cin could not bring himself to urge his once more horse-shaped steed into the sprint he’d been taking from the city to home, but he could spot no carriage lights before or behind him, so it probably wouldn’t matter. Whatever he did, he would not make it home in time to keep his family’s ire at bay. That thought should have brought him panic. Instead, Cin found the tug toward a steely determination, thewantbecoming an overwhelming pressure against the pain that still sizzled between his ribs.
Magic, he’d told Prince Lorenz. Magic Cin had never had the courage to seek out, nor the necessity to push him toward that sacrifice. But with Perdition’s battered body tucked against his heart, cradled between two unwanted lumps of flesh, over the top of an ache it seemed he’d never be rid of, he could not dream of a world where he failed her again. Where he failed himself.
When he finally approached the Reinholzes’ estate, he could see that the door was open—so at least one of them had been insightful enough to look for the key they kept in the barn. Cin could not bring himself to turn off the road, not even to stop his flock-creature as it walked onward. As though sensing Cin’s desires, it stayed its course.
Cin glanced back at the house, and then simply watched. As his steed walked on, the forest on the far side of his family’s estate slowly blocked his sight of it. Cin’s mount kept moving. His heart tightened, hope and fear battling for space. His flock had taken him to the elves before. If they could sense magic, could know what he needed…
“You’ll take me where I need to go?” he asked into the sky, breathless and low.
Above him, Lacey and Rags called in unison. It was enough. Enough to trust them. To trust himself.
Cin’s flock-creature didn’t stop. They passed home after farm after forest after home, the moon sinking lower and lower in the sky. Just as the night turned cold enough that Cin began to shiver, two large owls swooped out of the trees, their bodies transforming to a lush robe of silvery feathers that wrapped around Cin. His steed kept on walking.
They passed one town, then another, both dark and quiet in the early morning hours. By the time the sky began to lighten, the depths of Hallin’s eastern forest surrounded them. Only then did Cin consider asking his steed to turn back—at this rate, they’d leave the south-east border of the kingdom by lunchtime—but his flock seemed more confident than ever, its ears pricked forward and its gait purposeful.
