Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen

I ran down the stairs, brandishing an unlit candle and paddle like a sword and shield. A green, thorny vine squirmed its way through the open door. “Light.” Flame flickered onto the candle’s wick. Even though they were low-heat candles, when I held it to the vine, it reeled back from the flame. But it was too green and alive to catch fire.

Holding the paddle in a guard position before me, I jumped over the vine and ran outside. Brendon was still cursing up a storm—for good fucking reason. Sometime while we’d been talking, the forest had erupted into a tangled bramble. More vines twisted around Brendon, climbing up his legs and torso.

“Catch!” I called, throwing him the candle.

He caught it in midair, then looked at it incredulously. “Did you just throw a candle? Do you know how dangerous that is? What if I’d caught it wrong and set myself on fire?”

“This one is magic—the fire doesn’t burn human skin. You could smother it with your hand if you wanted to.” He still looked outraged and skeptical. I rolled my eyes and ignored him, swinging the paddle at the nearest creeping plant. “The vines don’t like the heat,” I continued, swinging again. A bit of clear … sap? … juice?—what was it called when plants bled?—hit me in the face, a sour taste filling my mouth. I sputtered and coughed, hoping it wasn’t poisonous.

I glanced at Brendon to check his progress and saw the plants relinquishing their hold. As soon as he was free, I grabbed his arm and hauled him back toward the tower. “If we lock the door, they can’t get inside,” I explained, aiming behind me to bat away another seeking thorn.

“And then what are we supposed to do? Wait them out?”

I had no idea, but it would at least give us a chance to calm down and think of a solution instead of running headfirst into that mess. “Just get inside!”

He stopped arguing with me and made it inside the door, holding it open for me.

I only got one foot over the threshold before my other one was yanked out from under me. I smacked onto the ground face first, the breath knocked out of me as something dragged me backwards, toward the dark, looming forest.

“Rick!” Brendon called, followed by the sound of the door smacking against the wall as he prepared to chase after me.

“Close the damn door!” The last thing we needed was for both of us to get caught up in the mess. “I can handle this!” I lied through a mouthful of dirt.

I clawed at everything within reach to try to slow my momentum—dirt, grass, sticks, and stones. Nothing worked. With a sharp heave, I flipped myself over so I could see where the vines were taking me. The forest had transformed into deadly, tangled briars. Something prowled the shadowy depths. A glimpse of wings. The stretch of a long neck. A reptilian hiss. “Is that a fucking dragon?!”

A hand grabbed my wrist and yanked me backwards. The vines didn’t want to lose their prize and tightened their grip, wrapping around me a few additional times. Their thorns were too dull to puncture through my clothes, but a few clever vines had slipped between my boot and my pantleg, digging their barbed thorns into me.

“Don’t you have a sword or something?” Brendon asked as he and the vines played tug-o-war with my body.

“Why the fuck would I have a sword?”

“I don’t know what kind of play you’re into!”

“Not that kind!”But something occurred to me and I suggested, “Check the kitchen!”

“I can’t cut you out with a butter knife.”

“They’re serrated!” I replied, then yelped in pain as some of the thorns that had latched onto my leg pierced my skin.

Brendon’s hands tightened on me, and a muscle jumped in his jaw. “Okay. I’ll be right back. I promise. Don’t get eaten!”

“Why would you say something so ominous?”

The second he let go, the vines pulled me another ten feet. Even they seemed surprised by their success, pausing for a moment, before gleefully dragging me toward the forest and the evil creature lurking within.

Brendon returned with a pair of kitchen shears. I was only a few feet from the tree line when he lunged for me, skidding in the dirt so that he put himself between me and the trees. With a few quick snips, he freed one of my legs, but the thorns remained buried in my flesh. The vines thrashed in protest, trying to grab both of us. Brendon ruthlessly cut through them with one snip.

He helped me to my feet, and I almost immediately collapsed, my right leg burning and useless beneath me. Slinging one of my arms over his shoulders, he half-supported, half-dragged me to the tower.

A few vines had made it through the door, climbing up the frame. Brendon unceremoniously dumped me on the floor, then shoved the door closed. The vines fought him, waving their little plant limbs in protest until he severed them with one final push. They fell to the floor, weak and wilting, no longer a threat.

We took a moment to catch our breath, me sprawled on the floor, him standing above me, hands on his knees to support himself. The tower darkened as vines climbed over the outer walls.

“Are you sure they can’t get in?” Brendon asked, his eyes on the nearest window, already covered with a thick layer of foliage.

“I’m sure,” I replied, closing my eyes.

“Hey.”

I didn’t have the energy to respond.

“You can’t go to sleep yet. I have to look at your wound to make sure it’s not infected.”

Remembering the imp bite, I sighed and pushed myself up on my elbows. “Alright, help me up.”

He grabbed my hand and pulled, then I hopped to the couch, collapsing for the second time today. Even though getting here hurt, it was a brilliant idea. The cushions were much more comfortable.

“Do you have a first aid kit?”

“Both bathrooms under the sinks and one in the toy chest.”

“I thought you weren’t into that kind of play,” Brendon said, his tone forcefully teasing, like he was trying to lighten the mood.

I don’t know why he was trying so hard, I wasthe one who fucked up. It had ‘evil mage’ written all over it. I wasn’t sure if we were direct targets or if the magic tower had simply drawn their attention. Either way, the whole thing was my fault and I’d somehow dragged Brendon into it.

“I’m sorry,” I said suddenly, wanting him to know none of this was intentional.

The only response I got was the clinking and shuffling of items coming from the bathroom. When Brendon emerged, first-aid kit in hand, he ordered, “Take off your pants.”

His authoritative tone might have been sexy if it wasn’t an emergency. To get my pants off, I had to remove my boots, which was difficult while reclining on a couch. Brendon watched me struggle with the laces for a minute, his lips twitching suspiciously, before setting the kit on the coffee table and coming over.

“Here, let me.”

I covered my eyes with one of my arms, horribly embarrassed as he pulled my boots and socks off. I thought he’d finish there and let me handle the rest, but then his hands traveled slowly up the sides of my legs. Half my brain cried out: what are you doing? Stop it, this is not the time! Emergency, remember? The other half was cheering him on. Caught between admonishment and begging, I didn’t say anything.

His deft fingers popped open my buttons one by one, then he slipped under the fabric and lowered it inch by agonizing inch. The right leg gave him a little bit of trouble since blood had stuck the fabric to my skin. He slowed his pace further, his touch gentle as he tried to reduce the pain and trouble. I bit down hard on my lip to suppress a groan—a real one this time. I did not find that kind of pain sexy.

Once my legs were bare, he settled himself between them and rested my right leg on his lap. With careful dabs, he cleaned each puncture mark with a cotton swab and antiseptic.

“I’m sorry,” I repeated, because I wasn’t sure if he hadn’t heard me the first time or if he’d ignored me.

He remained focused on his work. “For what?”

I hesitated before saying, “For everything?”

“Apologies should be sincere and specific.”

I thought back on every crime and slight I’d committed against him, not sure where to begin. “I’m sorry I kidnapped you, which—intentionally or not—led you to be in this tower, attacked by potentially carnivorous plants.” And possibly a dragon. I didn’t add that only because I wasn’t sure if what I’d seen was real or a trick of the foliage.

“Why did you kidnap me anyway?”

I sighed and rubbed a hand down my face. “Franny—”

“I don’t mean why did you want to stop the wedding. I mean why did you jump straight to kidnapping?”

I peeked at him from between my fingers. “I just wanted to talk to you at first, about alternatives. But you seemed so …” I remembered the way his blue eyes crinkled when he smiled, his bright voice as he told me ‘I’ve been waiting for this day for a long time.’ “Happy. At the thought of marrying Franny.”

He groaned and leaned his head back against the edge of the couch. “Rick.”

I bit my lip and continued, “When I saw that, I panicked, and just sort of went with Plan B—”

“Rick,” he repeated, grabbing my hand, and pulling it away from my face. “I was lying through my goddamn teeth.”

I stared at him, only half-registering movement as he twined our fingers together. “What?”

“I left the Tipped Over Cup, alone, to catch my breath and … look for an escape route,” he confessed.

My mouth fell open and I gawked at him in surprise. “You were going to run away?” I demanded. “Wait, if you were planning to bail on the wedding anyway, why were you so mad when I kidnapped you?”

He arched an eyebrow at me. “Let’s see—in the first option, I gained freedom from an unwanted marriage and the chance to choose my own future. In the second option, I was locked in a fucking tower.” He waved his free hand to indicate the space around us. “Worse, I thought my kidnapper was my own bride. Which meant that not only did she not want to marry me, but she was willing to go to some pretty extreme measures to prevent the wedding.”

He finally dropped my hand and picked up the bandages instead. I closed my palm, cold and empty, and tucked my fist against my side.

“I probably wouldn’t have done it,” he said.

I frowned, trying to figure out what ‘it’ meant in that context. “Done what?”

“Run away. I had a whole plan to travel somewhere far away from the Desolated Lands. I’d fantasized about the opportunities I’d have if I wasn’t a prince bound by duty—the chance to choose my own profession, to fall in love. But every time, someone else appeared in my daydreams—my parents, Kit, or my other friends—and everything stopped, because I’d remember that they wouldn’t be there. I would be alone. So, while I considered running, in the end I knew that an unhappy marriage would only be one part of my life. It wouldn’t have to define it.”

I thought hard about his confession while he continued wrapping my leg. Then I repeated, more sincerely, “I’m sorry for kidnapping you. I’m sorry I took that choice away from you.”

He shook his head, his lips quirking slightly. “Why of all things was kidnapping your Plan B? You couldn’t think of anything else first so it would at least be bumped down to Plan C? Or Plan D?” His eyebrows arched and he said, “Or was it Plan D? Maybe this is all just an elaborate seduction—”

I clapped my hand over his mouth, blushing so hotly I almost felt feverish. “It was not a Dick Plan!”

His laughter rumbled through my fingers and then I felt something soft and wet brush against them. I snatched my hand back and wiped his saliva off on the couch cushion.

“Are you sure?” he asked, the laughter lingering in his voice. “Since you already had this tower arranged, I thought you might have a confinement kink.”

I groaned and muttered, “Can we please not bring my kinks into my very serious apology?”

“I mean, if they affect your motive—”

“I don’t have a confinement kink!” Too late, I realized that yelling wasn’t very apologetic or sincere of me. I took a deep breath and tried to order my thoughts so I could explain properly. “I just needed some way to buy time until I figured out some alternative. It felt like … once you and Franny met, the future would be set in stone. Fran would have smiled and accepted whatever our parents asked of her, no matter how miserable it made her. You seemed happy, even if I know that’s a lie now. I thought no one would listen to me unless I had a solid alternative ready to go.”

“The wedding date’s been set for months,” Brendon pointed out as he returned to wrapping my leg. “Why didn’t you talk to anyone sooner?”

“To be honest, I didn’t realize how unhappy Franny would be until a few hours before I made the whole stupid plan. Our parents rarely mention the marriage, at least not in front of me, and Franny always smiled when we did talk about it. I hadn’t recognized how fake those smiles were.”

His hands paused and he looked up at me, scanning my face. “So, she didn’t go around bemoaning her fate? Cursing the heavens, my kingdom, my name, any of it?”

“No. I just …” I hesitated, not wanting to explain how I had found Franny. “I talked to her that day, and she mentioned feeling trapped in the marriage. Not like she wanted to get out of it—I need to make it absolutely clear that Franny isn’t in on this plan, she has no idea I kidnapped you. She was just so … sad and resigned. I acted on impulse.”

“Your first impulse being to kidnap me.”

Well, I sounded like a villain when he said it like that. “Second impulse,” I muttered, not that it really made a difference.

He was silent as he finished the job, carefully tucking away the ends of the bandage. He extracted himself from my limbs and helped me settle on the couch, even pulling a blanket over me. “You rest up while I make dinner.”

I slumped back against the pillows, covering my eyes again, jaw clenched in anger at my own stupidity. It didn’t escape my notice that he’d never accepted my apology.