Page 57 of A Touch of Shadows

She glanced around them. The courtyard was still empty and they were wrapped together in the shadows of the wall. Safe. Such darkness shouldn’t feel so safe, but it did.

‘I don’t want to be a princess.’

‘I don’t want to be a prince,’ he said, as if it was a joke. The problem was, it was true and there was nothing to be done about it. His fingertips traced a line down her jaw, to her throat, and Wren sighed, tilting her head back and leaning in to him again.

‘What do we do?’

He turned solemn in a heartbeat. ‘Wren, I can’t let you run away. The kingdom needs you.’

That was it then. He’d keep her here and while part of her didn’t care, or didn’t want to care, the rest of her did. She needed to get out, to find Elodie and escape this nightmare. Which would mean leaving him behind.

It was like deciding to cut off her own hand. It shouldn’t feel like that but it did. She reeled back, trying to put it into words.

‘Finn,’ she sighed, wishing for anything else. ‘This place… these people… I can’t…’

‘Listen to me, come back. We’ll talk to your father.’ She winced as he called Roland that. She didn’t want Roland as a father, not now, not ever. ‘He’ll listen to reason, I know he will. He’s a good man, Wren. A kind man. He raised me. He… he won’t give you up but he might…’ And his words failed. Because they both knew that Roland de Silvius’s duty to the crown was going to override anything else. She had understood that from the moment she had met him. His dismissal alone would have told her as much.

He served the crown.

Except once. When he’d fathered her with Elodie, if that was what had really happened. Everyone else seemed to think so. They’d both broken vows that night, obviously. Maybe he regretted it and everything since then had been to make up for it.

And here she was, living proof of his greatest failure, his deepest regret. Oh, her life just kept getting better and better. She couldn’t do anything right, but then why would that be possible when she had been born from such a wrong?

But Finn didn’t let her go. If he had, she was sure her heart would shatter into a million pieces.

She couldn’t doubt his love and respect for his guardian. The man who referred to his bloodline as an Ilanthian taint. Roland did not deserve him. The very thought of it made her indignant on his behalf. But she couldn’t tell him. It would break his heart. So she let him hold her.

‘Besides,’ he went on. ‘You can’t get out of the garrison tonight. The gates are locked and guarded. Roland has given the order that no one is to enter or leave. I’m pretty sure that includes you.’

He was good at giving orders, her so-called father. That much was obvious. He’d been quick to hand out orders to her as soon as she woke up and found herself trapped in this nightmare. She’d always dreamed of finding her father. She sorely regretted that now.

And when he found out what she was, what she could do, the way the shadows sang for her…

A freak, a monster…

‘Where were you earlier? When I woke up?’ she asked. ‘Anselm was there but you’d gone.’

‘At a debriefing. Being quizzed on everything that had happened and everything about you. Don’t worry, even I wasn’t going to tell him what happened with the shadow kin. If they found out I’d been bitten…’ He shook his head. ‘And if they knew what happened at the camp…’ His eyes darkened again, and for a moment she thought she saw little flecks of light dancing against the blue. ‘I don’t know what to do, Wren. I think we’re both in a lot of trouble. Something in me has changed. I can feel it.’

She found the urge to apologise rising again and shoved it down ruthlessly. ‘I couldn’t let you die, Finn. I just?—’

‘Shush,’ he breathed and kissed her again, silencing her.

They’d reached the door of the towerhouse. She hadn’t even been aware of them moving, but here they were back where she had started. Finn opened it and they slipped inside and up the stairs. The house was quiet, the occupants all asleep now.

Finn didn’t care what she might be. That meant everything. No, he couldn’t mean that. He didn’t care whether it was real or some enchantment. That was what he meant.

She didn’t doubt for a moment that he cared for her. Which was part of the problem. She didn’t know that she deserved it. She didn’t know if it was real or something she had forced upon him.

But he seemed so sure.

Was it true? Had she done something to Finn so now he had no choice but to want her? Magic had that effect, she knew it. Hedge witches were very strict about its use for that very reason. Half the bargains with the darkwood she had ever heard about were made for love, or for lust, bargains made by people who didn’t know the difference. People used magic to entice lovers, to keep them from straying, but for all the rumours of love spells she had never heard of anyone affected as powerfully as this. It was as if they had both lost their minds, as if a spell had been cast on both of them.

Wren reached the door of the bedroom assigned to her and her hand stilled on the handle. Finn’s arms still encircled her and every so often he found some new way to press a kiss to her, or a way to touch her skin that sent fresh shivers of need through her.

‘What if you… what if you don’t want this?’ she asked. ‘What if…?’

‘Believe me,’ he told her, blue eyes fierce and determined. ‘I want this.’ Then he seemed to pull back a little and doubt finally showed. ‘But only… only if you do.’