Astrid

Eli kicks and wails once it is time for Lady Selaena to take him to the West Wing. I cannot bear to watch the streaks of moisture paint themselves over his face as he begs for his mother to take him, to let him fight, to stay hidden with him – anything.

Imogen is kneeling in front of him in a desperate attempt to placate him while he throws his little fists against her armor.

“You must be strong, Eli,” her voice is barely steady. “I will come find you as soon as it is over, I promise. It will be over in a flash.”

“Liar!” he screams.

Bayorn comes to wrap his arms around the boy’s waist. When he begins to pry him off Imogen, the wails grow louder. I have to force my thoughts to wander anywhere else besides the sight of Isabelle swiping at her eyes furiously in the corner.

Even Lady Selaena flinches at the volume of his rage. She looks as if she just wants to leave right now.

“Come, Eli,” Bayorn starts, but he refuses to listen and instead turns his pummels upon the guard’s chest. Finally, Bayorn is forced to release him, and Eli throws his arms stubbornly around Imogen’s neck.

I do not have to look at Imogen’s face to know that she is fighting tears – that because she does not want to betray any hint of sorrow, she does not speak. She only clings to her boy one last time before releasing him.

Kieran blocks my view for a few seconds before he crouches down to Eli’s level. I catch him discreetly wave Imogen off with a hand.

She steps away while Kieran speaks to him in low tones.

Eli’s weeping dulls down into broken sobs. We all watch in astonishment as Kieran steadies his shoulders, looks him square in the eye and tells him one last thing I barely catch:

“...fight with us from above with Lady Selaena, won’t you?”

The boy nods mutely. Kieran ruffles his hair once, then sends him to the enchantress. Before Eli can pass by Bayorn, he pauses to allow the guard to cling onto him for a brief second.

If I had blinked, I would have missed Bayorn quickly press his lips against Eli’s temple.

We are all certainly thinking the same thing as we watch the boy and the enchantress ascend the staircase: our plan will not work.

No matter how many precautions we take, no matter how much magic plays to our advantage – we cannot win against a bloodthirsty crowd with no intention to kill. Not with our numbers.

Which is why we must cut off the head, I think, but only I fully intend to do this.

“Astrid.” Kieran rises to his feet with great difficulty. I can tell every movement in his muscles causes him more agony than I can imagine. When he winces, I move to slip under his arm so that he shares his weight with me.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“Help me?”

There is a strange fragility behind his request, one I cannot quite place.

Bayorn nods at us. At first I think he’s just giving me his quiet assent to undertake his role of preparing Kieran for his transformation, but then Kieran nods firmly at him in return. Some unspoken conversation passes between them.

I lead him into the dungeons.

For once, I am more afraid of what is outside than what will be in here.

Kieran doesn’t lock himself in his usual cell, nor does he touch any of the spiked chains – much to my relief. Restraining the beast is not part of our plan.

We both awkwardly stumble onto the cold, dirty floor ungracefully. His breaths have deepened into soft pants.

Folding my legs beneath me, my fingers fiddle with the straps that hold my daggers to my thighs. Unlike the rest of us, Kieran wears no armor – he does not need to – although he wears a tunic instead of his usual robe. He surveys my expression briefly under the glow of the lamps and torches against the walls.

“You look hot in battle gear,” he jokes.

“I look hot in everything.” I try to return the smile for his benefit.

When he laughs, the tickle in my chest takes me back to the first time I ever heard it. Something entangles and undoes itself in the pit of my stomach.

Before I lose my nerve, my tongue forms the words before my mind is able to stop me:

“When all this is over, I want to stay.”

He blinks, uncomprehending.

“When the curse is over,” I moisten my lips. “If...if you will have me, I would like to go wherever you are going. Even if we no longer have the mirror or if we have to stay in this place until we wither away.”

Silence. Awful, awful silence.

I pick some flaking leather off my boots, which probably used to belong to a maiden from years of yonder.

“Astrid.” A crease struggles across his forehead. “I may not return to my normal self after this transformation. At least, not for a while. I don’t know how long that will be. Something...something terrible may happen then. I don’t think you…”

“Do you want to?” I cut him off, meeting the conflict in his eyes.

“If you were given the choice to be stuck with me for the rest of our lives. Do not think. Just tell me. Would you choose it?”

To my surprise, his answer is immediate.

“Yes.”

My hands react before my mouth can. They reach up to his neck, to the faint day-old stubble along his chin. The warmth of his fingers wraps around my wrist as his thumb starts to make idle circles on the base of my palm.

“I love you,” I tell him stupidly. Even though it will never break the curse. Even though my heart is racing at the premonition of the coming attack by the people I grew up with. Even though I may die. Even though he may never love me.

“I love you, Kieran.”

He inhales sharply.

His fingers lace themselves through my hair before his lips find mine. He kisses the same way he treats every soul: gentle and soft and waiting. Waiting for me to respond. And when I melt into his touch, when my lips part to give way to him, his passion deepens into a fire for which I always knew, deep down, I hunger.

I am sinking deeper and deeper into the ocean of him, but I do not drown.

“Agh!”

He breaks away abruptly. When he cries out again, I am forced to release him.

“You have to leave,” he says, hunching over the floor.

Something in his body cracks audibly. My feet instantly carry me back up the steps. Before I turn the latch, I dare myself to look over my shoulder.

Kieran is watching me. Our eyes meet. Suddenly, a bubble of panic rises up my throat.

He nods once. I nod back at him before turning the latch to leave him alone at the mercy of the monster that has always haunted him.

The monster that will cause its worst damage tonight.