Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen

The Old Willow

“Wake, sweet creature,” said a voice, quiet and warm.

Groggily, I opened my eyes to find Casamir standing over me, fully dressed. A golden-orange light burned behind him. The sun was rising.

“It is daybreak,” he said. “And I have promised to take you to your sister.”

Those words woke me immediately, and I rose and swung my legs over the bed. I was naked and suddenly beneath Casamir’s appraising gaze. His eyes roved and my skin warmed, the bottom of my stomach igniting with a desire so keen, I shifted closer to the edge and parted my legs.

Casamir’s gaze held there, and his tongue slid across his bottom lip.

“Oh, sweet creature,” he rasped. “This morning is not for temptation, for I have made promises.”

He touched my chin and tipped my head back while his other hand fisted my hair and he ravaged my mouth. He pulled away with a groan and rested his forehead against mine.

“Get dressed,” he said, stepping back to hand me a pile of clothes.

I was surprised when he did not watch and instead crossed the room toward his plants as I changed into a pair of leggings and a long dress with high slits for riding.

“Rested?” a voice asked.

I snapped my head toward the mirror, and my mouth fell open, but I could not respond. I had forgotten about him.

“I—”

“Ignore him,” said Casamir, his back still to me.

“How do you ignore him?” I asked. “He’s there.”

He had seen everything. Heard everything.

My cheeks flushed at the thought.

“Trust me, the more he speaks, the easier it is.”

“Do not worry, creature,” the mirror said. “I am used to the prince’s lovemaking.”

“Oh really?” I asked, my embarrassment overtaken by a sudden shock of jealousy.

“Do not say it like that, you foolish thing,” Casamir said.

“How should he say it then?” I asked.

“Yes, how should I say it?” the mirror echoed.

Casamir continued to inspect his plants, oblivious to the anger boiling my blood.

“To say I have made love to anyone but you is a fallacy,” he said. “And I have spent the better part of ten years pleasuring only myself. If the mirror has been watching anyone fuck, it must be one of my brothers.”

“Would he not know the difference?” I countered.

“Well, he is only a mirror,” he said, and then he turned to me, his expression serious, growing far more severe the longer he stared. After a second, he crossed to me and reached for the remaining piece of clothing that lay on the bed—a cloak that he draped around my shoulders and clasped at the front. He let his fingers glide down the edges of each side until his fingers twined with mine.

“Beautiful,” he said.

My gaze fell to his lips, and I leaned closer, just grazing his mouth with my own when the mirror spoke.

“That was well done, Prince,” he said.

We both glared.

“You know you do not have to speak,” Casamir said.

“I only wish to offer a compliment,” the mirror said. “You have improved since last time.”

My brows lowered, and before I could speak, Casamir took my hand and dragged me to the door.

“It is time to go.”

He did not let go of my hand until we came to the courtyard where a white horse grazed. His coat shined beneath the sun, so bright it was almost blinding.

“I did not know you had horses,” I said. I had seen no stables since I had arrived.

“I don’t,” he said. “Balthazar is wild, but he has agreed to help us today.”

“You do not keep animals, but you keep humans?”

“Animals are pure of heart,” he said. “Humans are not.”

I did not disagree. I pet Balthazar’s nose.

“Have you ridden before?” he asked.

“Of course,” I said, and he stepped back as I mounted Balthazar. He followed and settled behind me, arms circling my waist, hands smoothing down my arms to my hands.

“Do you know the way?” he asked.

“I know the tree. I go there every day,” I said, then corrected myself. “I used to. It is an old willow by the wide river.”

“Hold on,” he said. Our fingers tightened into Balthazar’s mane, and the horse bolted into the Enchanted Forest. I could not tell if Casamir guided the steed or if he knew the way, but he carried us deeper into the woods on a smooth and even gait, dodging limbs and bramble walls. Soon we came to a river, which Balthazar followed until it forked, at which point he made a hard left, right into the river.

The water splashed us, and I gasped at how frigid it was. Casamir chuckled near my ear but said nothing as Balthazar waded through to the bank and continued galloping through the forest, always within sight of the river, which curved like a snake around tall trees and between hills. There came a moment when the surroundings looked familiar and I realized I knew this place.

My heart rose into my throat as the willow came into view, its long, slender branches sweeping the ground like a cascading waterfall.

Balthazar slowed to a stop and Casamir dismounted. I followed, and once my feet touched the ground, I raced to the tree. The ground was disturbed by an elaborate root system, making it difficult to stand beneath its eaves, and yet I managed to walk the perimeter until I found the spot where Winter had once lain. But there was no sign that anyone had risen from these roots.

I felt panicked as I fell to the ground and tried to pry the roots apart, but they would not give.

Then Casamir’s hands covered mine and I stilled, meeting his dark gaze.

“Feel her,” he said and pressed my palms flat to the roots.

“I can’t,” I said, my voice too high, my head too light.

“Breathe, sweet creature,” he said. “Your sister is not far away.”

My chest rose and fell rapidly for a few seconds longer before I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, focusing on the warmth of Casamir’s hands atop mine and the roughness of the willow’s roots beneath my palms.

Then I felt it—a faint pulse against my skin.

A heartbeat.

I opened my eyes.

“She’s alive.”

I met Casamir’s gaze, and I could not quite place the expression on his face. It was caught somewhere between kind and compassionate, and I was not prepared for how it would complement his beauty.

“I told you,” he said.

My brows lowered. “But…how long until she’s healed? It has been ten years.”

“The willow does not often heal mortals,” he said. “She likely only did because each of you have some fae blood.”

For the first time in my life, I was grateful for that little bit of blood.

“She may rise in a day or ten. She may rise long after you and I are dead and the world no longer looks the same.”

Tears welled in my eyes at the thought of being without her for any length of time beyond today, now that I knew her heart beat.

“How will I know? She cannot rise alone.”

“She will not be alone,” said Casamir. “The fae will help her. By then, she will be fully one of them…one of us.”

My gaze snapped to him, but he did not look at me, as if he did not wish to know my reaction to this news.

He rose abruptly and left me beneath the willow.

I lingered a moment longer and pressed a kiss to the willow roots, whispering, “I love you. I’ll come for you. I promise.”

When I left the eaves of the tree, Casamir stood at the center of the meadow, Balthazar waiting nearby. To an untrained eye, he looked menacing and dangerous, but I knew the truth.

I started toward him but stopped a few feet short of reaching him.

“Why did you do this for me?” I asked.

“Because it was what you wanted,” he answered.

I shifted on my feet, swallowing hard.

“And what do you want?”

I thought he would reply quickly, but he waited a moment, and when he answered, he spoke slowly, almost uncertain. “I would like to keep my name.”

“Why is your name so important?”

“It reminds me of who I was and who I have become,” he said.

“And you cannot remember all that if you choose a new one?”

He nearly flinched, and I wondered what tumbled around inside his head as I spoke. I stepped closer, careful, as if I were approaching a predator. I stopped inches from him, our heads inclined, the tension between us thickening, a weight I could barely breathe beneath.

“Is it the name you truly want?” I whispered, my eyes lowered to his lips.

“There is nothing else to desire beyond a true name,” he said. “Yours or mine.”

His words confused me. “Not even love?”

Casamir’s brows lowered. “Are you taunting me?”

“No,” I said.

He stared at me and then let his finger trail softly over my cheek, warming my skin.

“Could you love me?” he whispered.

The question stole my breath and burned my lungs in the silence that followed.

I wanted to answer, to whisper yes into the space between us, but I was afraid.

What if I confessed but he could not love me in return?

Did it even matter if I was content to spend my days with him?

His features grew cold and distant, and he took a step back. The tension that had built around us burst, leaving my limbs weak.

“We should return,” he said and crossed to Balthazar.

He waited for me to mount before joining me, and he rode without holding me or the horse. And while I would usually be hyperaware of his presence, I was now hyperaware of his absence and found that I hated it far more than I had ever hated the Prince of Thorns.