Chapter 5

A s soon as we leave the hall and enter the corridor, there's a noticeable difference in the temperature, and I sigh gratefully at the coolness in the air. This part of the castle has windows, unlike some of the hallways in the older part of the castle. Now that we're out of sight, we allow our steps to slow, which I'm grateful for. I'm still getting used to walking in shoes, and even though Jayne found me some flat ones that matched my dress, they still rub.

"I'm sorry."

The words take me by surprise, and I frown as I turn to look at the prince. I almost don't recognise him. Something has changed, and while I don't blame him, I mourn the innocent happiness that he had. His life as the youngest of three royal sons shielded him from a lot of the harder parts of existence.

"What do you have to be sorry for?" I ask softly, but he answers me with another question, his eyes hardening.

"Were you there yesterday? I went looking for you, but I couldn't find you," he queries, and I bite down on my lip before I can stop myself. Hopefully, he takes that as a sign that I'm nervous after yesterday rather than the fact that I don't know how to answer him. I was there yesterday, but he wouldn't, and he obviously didn't recognise me without my blonde hair. Seeing my indecision, he pulls me over to an alcove and raises a hand to my face, tracing a finger over my abused lip that I'm still biting. "I was worried that…"

"I was there, but I got away pretty quickly," I reply, feeling awful about lying to him, but I can't tell him the truth about me, especially not now.

"So, you saw what happened then." It's not a question. I simply nod, reaching out and taking his hand, squeezing it gently. His gaze locks on our intertwined fingers, something about them making him pause before he rubs his thumb over my fingers.

"I'm sorry about your mother," I murmur, and I mean it, but his reaction isn't what I would have expected.

His head jerks up, scanning the corridor around us to see if we've been followed, but we are alone. When he looks back at me, his expression is furious, and I automatically flinch away from him. Faces like that always meant bad news as a slave, and the action was ingrained within me. Thankfully, he doesn't seem to notice.

"You need to be careful. That could be taken as treason!" he practically shouts, and I take a step back, releasing his hand as my back presses against the stone of the arched alcove. He doesn't seem to notice or care that he's scaring me. The anger that dwells in me flares at the threat, running through my veins and hardening my thoughts as a tingling sensation starts to build up along my skin, growing with each second.

What are you doing? This is Jacob! He's not a threat! I tell myself, taking a couple of deep breaths, trying to push that anger down.

"If you say that to anyone else, you will be executed!" He laughs, but there's no humour in it. Taking a step back from me, he turns away, running his hands through his hair. I use the opportunity to move away from the wall and out into the corridor, putting a little more space between us. "That's the worst thing about this," he continues, seemingly oblivious to the fact that people are starting to leave the great hall, their curious gazes running over us, their footsteps slowing so they can try and hear our conversation.

"I can't even mourn my mother, because she was ‘tainted by evil.' I'm supposed to be glad that she was executed before she infected anyone else. Glad ." Although his voice is quiet, he's getting louder the angrier he gets. If his father hears him… I don't even want to contemplate what could happen. If the king can kill his wife without any thought, I wouldn't put it past him to try and hurt his son.

"Jacob," I call to get his attention, his wild, grief-stricken eyes finally meeting mine. I immediately feel awful about thinking badly of him.

This is Jacob, he wouldn't hurt me. Would he? I push my doubt away and close the distance between us, holding out my hand to him.

"Let's go somewhere quieter."

He stares at my hand for a moment before following it up to my face, looking at me like I'm offering him a lifeline. Taking my hand, he gives me a small, gentle smile that breaks my heart, like I'm the only person to offer him any sort of comfort.

"I know a place," he says, linking my arm with his as he starts to lead me down the corridors.

It's much busier now, with people milling about after the meal, and groups of nobles huddling together and discussing everything that happened in the hall. I can't believe some of the things I hear as we walk past them. It's like they've completely forgotten what happened yesterday, or that they've all been blindly brainwashed. Am I the only person to see yesterday for what it was? A slaughter? I don't believe that the queen was ‘tainted,' and the feeling in my gut is telling me I'm right. I've seen the looks the king used to give her when he thought no one was looking, and it was no secret that the queen had still mourned her lost love.

A memory flashes up in my mind of the time I walked into the courtyard and saw her discussing something with Tor. I hadn't heard much of what they were discussing, but guards were about to enter the courtyard, and I had this feeling that they needed to be warned. As soon as I raised the alarm, the queen had quickly disappeared. I still don't know what had been going on there, and I doubt I ever will, not now that Tor and his people had left.

I wonder if I'll ever see him again, I muse as we walk in silence. I suppose I shouldn't be thinking of one man while I'm with another, but I have a different, more platonic feeling around Jacob, unlike the desperate pull I feel towards Grayson, Vaeril, and Tor. He's handsome and kind, not to mention a prince. Most women would be delighted to have the attention of a prince, I think, glancing across at the man in question. Does that mean I don't want his attention? No, it's not that. I like spending time with him, I think we could be close, but not in the way he hopes. Besides, I suppose I'm not ‘most' women. I'm jumping way ahead of myself. I don't know what Jacob or any of the others think of me. I know Grayson cares for me, but I'm still not sure in what capacity. There is an undeniable draw towards him, and I have a connection with Vaeril and Tor too, but I'm not sure why. Shaking my head at the direction my thoughts are going, I try to focus on the here and now and making it through another day alive.

I realise where we're going as we enter one of the smaller corridors that would lead us away from the crowds, and sure enough, we walk out into the Queen's Courtyard—the last place I saw her alive. Jacob is silent as we walk around the square. We can't go far, it's boxed in with castle walls on two sides and an archway entrance on each end leading back into the castle, but it's a quiet, outside space. He leads me over to one of the benches that are placed around each fountain, and we take a seat.

Leaning my head back, I look at the sky, the clouds floating past. The sounds of the gentle fountains are soothing, and if I close my eyes, I can almost pretend that I'm somewhere else, someone else.

"I want to kill him."

I whip my head to the side to look at Jacob, my eyes wide at his statement. Glancing around, I pray that no one overhears. Thankfully, the courtyard is empty, but there are listening ears everywhere. I turn my attention back to the prince, but he's staring up at the sky.

"Jacob, you can't say things like that," I warn a hushed voice, placing a hand on his arm. He never said who it was that he wants to kill, but I know who he's talking about—the king. "Didn't you just tell me that talk like that would be considered treason?" Voice low, I know I need to get through to him. "You could be killed if anyone hears you, just like your mother."

My hand on his arm seems to gain his attention, and he looks at me as I speak, wincing at the mention of his mother's death. His eyes harden and glitter with something I'm not used to seeing on his face—hate. Scooting back, I feel my heart hammer in my chest, and I have to remind myself who I'm with.

But do you really know him that well? My inner voice tries to make me doubt myself, and it might have worked, except Jacob seems to notice my fear.

"I'm sorry, Clarissa. I didn't mean to scare you." Concern creases his face and his eyes soften. Leaning towards me, he reaches out, stopping when he sees me flinch again.

"He will kill you if you say things like that. Him or the priests. You can't trust them. You have to be careful," I rush out, my terror suddenly changing from fear of him, to fear for him. That tingle runs through me, and I know this feeling is coming from the Great Mother, she's sending him a message through me. Not that I can tell him that though, it would only cause too many questions.

"Okay. I will, I promise." He nods emphatically, and I know he's telling the truth.

I open my mouth to say something else, perhaps to warn him some more, but a strange feeling runs over me. It feels a bit like when someone is using magic nearby, but it's unlike any magic I've felt before. I get the urge to walk over to the far fountain. I push the impulse away, not understanding what's happening.

"Is everything okay, Clarissa? You seem really distracted..." Jacob asks, his voice trailing off as he glances towards where I'm looking. Something in my gut screams not to let him go over there, and before I even realise I've done it, I reach out and take his hand.

"Oh, I guess I'm just tired," I answer quickly, pulling his attention back to me as he stares at my hand which is now linked with his. He then glances up at me, trying to read my expression. While I might have used it as an excuse, it is true. I am exhausted. "Everything the king said… The slaves…" I feel sick as I speak, thinking of those poor, innocent children and their families. My familiar rage is back, but I try to tamp it down—now is not the time to be angry.

Jacob makes a sound of disgust. "I fought with him about that, even Michael voted against it, but Rhydian was the one to suggest it," he explains, and I raise an eyebrow as he speaks. I knew Rhydian followed in his father's footsteps, but I'm surprised at this piece of news. He has been away for a long time, fighting in the war, but I've heard what he is capable of.

"Everyone thinks it's my father who is harsh and cruel, but it's my brother who is behind a lot of this, him and that priest," Jacob continues, and as I listen, I find my gaze being pulled back to that fountain, the need to go over increasing with each moment. Pushing it away, I try to focus on the prince.

"He didn't used to be like this, but when he came back from the warfront, he had changed and was suddenly devoted to the Mother. Except what he was saying didn't sound like the Great Mother I know and worship." He lets out a deep breath, as if he's been holding onto what he said for a long time, and gives me a wry smile. "I envy you."

That feeling, the pull that is practically dragging me over to the fountain is getting so strong I'm struggling to focus, but, thankfully, Jacob doesn't seem to notice. It takes a second for me to process what he said. "Wait, you...envy me?"

The statement seems so absurd that I want to laugh out loud, but then I remember he only knows me as Lady Clarissa. He has no inkling of my past or the fact I've been watching him and the other royals for years.

"Yes, I envy the easy friendships you seem to make. Grayson and Wilson appear enamoured by you. I've never told any of this to anyone before. I don't really have any friends," he admits, and I realise he's right. I might not have anything else, but I do have friends, something I never thought I'd get to have.

"Thank you for feeling like you can share that with me." I smile at him, struggling to keep it in place as that impulse starts to get painful. "You do have a friend—me."

He stills then, his eyes running over me, and a strange expression I've not seen before passes over his face. I shuffle on the hard bench as uncertainty runs through me, my eyes darting over his shoulder to that damn fountain. I need to get rid of Jacob so I can go investigate. The feeling flashing through me insists that he can't know about whatever is happening in that corner of the courtyard.

"What if I want to be more than friends?" Jacob questions, his voice deeper than it was before, and I snap my eyes to him in surprise. Panic rises within me.

Is that normal? To panic when someone tells you they like you? I ask myself. I've watched romances from afar, but I have no idea how I'm supposed to feel. I like Jacob, but I'm not sure it goes any further than friendship. The fact his father just sentenced hundreds of children to enslavement also doesn't help with my feelings towards him and his family. Jumping up from the bench, I take a few steps away, needing some space, and I can feel his gaze on me, tracking my movements.

"I'm very flattered, Your Highness," I reply. I have no idea how to do this.

"Back to ‘Your Highness?'" He frowns, running his hand over his face as he sighs. Peering back up, he seems unsure, and my heart constricts, feeling bad that I've made him feel that way. "Have I messed things up?"

I immediately shake my head, wanting to comfort him and explain my feelings. "No, we're still friends, I promise," I reassure him. "I just…I need some space to think. So much has changed in the last couple of days," I explain, not sure if I'm making any sense, but his face softens as I speak.

Not to mention I need to get him away from that fountain.

"Okay, I'll give you some time. Shall I escort you back to your room?"

Shaking my head, I look up at the sky again, watching as a songbird flies overhead. This whole conversation has confused me, and I'm not sure how I feel about Jacob after his revelations. I still trust him, I just don't know how to behave around him anymore, especially with how I feel about his father.

Giving him a gentle smile, I shake my head at his offer. "No, thank you. I want to get some more air for a little bit."

"Okay, I understand," he murmurs, but his smile has dropped, and his expression shows his hurt. He quickly snaps his royal persona back into place. "Goodbye, Clarissa." Turning, he quickly exits the courtyard, and if it wasn't for the pain that fills me, I would probably follow after him, wanting to soothe him.

However, as if under a spell, my feet start walking towards that fountain, my emotions a tempestuous mixture in my chest. Desperate need fills me, and I don't think I could fight this pull even if I wanted to.

This could be a trap. You shouldn't be messing with magic. My inner voice is right, but this is like no magic I've ever felt before, and as I slowly make my way over, I touch the Goddess mark on my wrist for assurance. She wouldn't let me get hurt, and other than a gentle tingle over my skin, I get no other impression. Whatever this is, the Mother isn't involved, and I can make my own choice regarding it. However, I do believe that if it was going to harm me, she would stop me, that I'm sure of.

Finally arriving at the fountain, I frown as it seems to shimmer. Reaching out, I gasp as my fingers suddenly disappear. I jerk my hand back, making a noise in my throat as they reappear. Raising my hand to my face, I examine them, turning them to see that they are, in fact, still there.

"I thought he was never going to leave." The deep, accented voice comes out of nowhere, followed by a tanned, tattooed hand that seems to appear out of thin air, pulling me forward into the fountain. I close my eyes and instinctively hold my breath, preparing to get wet, except when I open them and see a smug-looking man watching me with a grin, I realise I'm bone dry. Gazing around, I can see the courtyard looks the same as it had just a moment ago, yet now this man has appeared before me. A sparkling out the corner of my eye has me turning, and I see a glowing square around the fountain we seem to be standing inside.

"It's called a shield," he informs me, and I spin to face him.

"Tor." I'm not prepared for the rush of feelings that flood through me as I see him. Relief, fear, surprise, and many more I can't quite put a name to. I run my eyes over him, checking that he's not hurt. I can't imagine their escape from the castle had been easy, nor his sneaking back in. However, other than a cut on his upper arm, he seems to be unscathed.

"You didn't fight back." He sounds angry, and as I meet his gaze, I frown at his expression—he is angry.

"What?" I demand with much more attitude than I would ever use with anyone else. I'm not sure what it is about this man, but he infuriates me, yet I can't deny that I want to be around him.

"A floating hand appears and grabs you, yet you don't fight back," he points out, making it seem as if I made a poor decision. I don't tell him I don't actually know how to fight.

"Perhaps I knew it was you," I counter, raising an eyebrow at him. He snuck into the castle, but instead of telling me why, he's wasting time chastising me about not fighting him.

He makes a rude noise. "Yeah, okay, sure." Sarcasm lines his words as he rolls his eyes. "Besides, I'm an outlaw. You're breaking the law just by talking to me, that's even more reason to fight me off."

He's right. If I get caught, then I will share the same fate as him. I want to ask what he's doing here, but instead I cross my arms with more bravado than I feel.

"You're not going to hurt me." I sound confident, and I wish I felt that way. Instead of arguing with me further, or denying my statement, his eyes turn hard as he takes a step towards me.

"Who are you?" The question hits me like a ton of bricks, and for a few moments, I can only gape at him as I see the truth in his eyes. A cold chill runs over me. He knows.

I have to put him off, he can't know the truth. Forcing a laugh, I turn away from him slightly so I can't see his expression anymore.

"What do you mean? You know who I am. I'm Lady Clarissa."

"I know that's who you pretend to be. I saw you at the massacre. I know you don't usually look like this." He steps right up to me, so close his chest is almost touching my shoulder as he reaches up and tugs on one of my golden curls. "Why are you hiding your appearance?" he whispers, his breath brushing across my ear. My cheeks flush red at the intimacy of his actions, but I don't step away like I think he expects me to. How do I answer him? He knows I'm not who I say I am, but why does it matter to him enough that he's broken back into the castle to talk to me, risking his life in the process?

"No one else has noticed," I admit softly, neither of us moving.

"That's because no one pays attention. Tell me," he demands again.

I want to tell him, I realise with shock, although I don't know why. It's not like we ever really got a chance to get to know each other. Trust isn't something that comes easily to me, it has to be earned, and even then I half expect it all to fall apart on me. Yet I want to trust him, and the pull between us is telling me that I do know him.

"I have a different past than the other ladies here," I hedge, twisting my silver cuffs around my wrist, my nerves making me feel twitchy. He takes the half step around me, so we are now facing each other. He's so close that if I reach out, I could trace his tribal tattoos.

"I was drawn to you before, but I couldn't place why." The admission is threaded with confusion, and I get the impression that Tor isn't drawn to many people. "It wasn't until I saw you with black hair that I understood." I frown as he speaks. What did he understand?

"Why do you look like my dead best friend?" There is accusation in his tone, along with anger and frustration.

I take a step back in shock. "It's a coincidence," I whisper, but even I don't sound like I believe what I'm saying. His expression tells me that he thinks I'm lying, and as I take another step back, he reaches out to grab me.

"Careful, you're about to step out of the shield." His hand closes around my wrist, stopping my movement but pulling my cuff off in the process. My eyes widen in horror, and I slap my hand over my slave marks, except he catches a glimpse before I can cover them. His expression turns hard and he pulls my hand away, revealing my secret and cursing long and hard in a language I don't recognise.

"A slave. You were a slave," he spits, his disgust clear. I don't know why that hurts so much. I don't know this man, after all, but for some reason his words wound me. Pulling my hand sharply from his, I hold my wrist to my chest, reaching out my other hand for my cuff.

"Give it back."

Tor is staring at me like I've grown another head, his emotions flashing across his face so quickly that I can't identify them. "How-how is this possible?" he practically shouts, back to anger again.

"Give. It. Back," I growl, taking an aggressive step towards him. His eyes widen and he wordlessly hands me my cuff. I quickly slide it back in place, taking a deep, relieved breath as soon as it's on, hiding the marks. "Grayson saved me, I was blessed by the Mother," I explain quietly, not going into any further details. He doesn't deserve them.

His face changes then, and a blank expression takes over him as he watches me, his eyes never leaving my face. "Before you were a slave, who were you?"

Shaking my head, I start to twist my cuffs again, not sure where his questioning is going, but it's making me uncomfortable. "I don't know. I have no memories from before."

This seems to catch his attention as he takes a step towards me, a bright interest entering his eyes. "You must have had a family, a past." It's not an inquiry, but a statement, his voice eager and pushy.

"Tor, I don't know," I snap, making his eyebrows rise. "Drop it, please."

I'm as amazed at my behaviour as he seems to be. My complete personality change around him is surprising, and I have no idea where it's coming from. I'm not like this with anyone else, but something about Tor drives me crazy. All of a sudden, he's grinning, looking like he knows something I don't, but I've had enough of this.

"Why are you here? How are you here? Why couldn't I see you before?"

"I'm using a shield. My people use them, like a magical…blanket?" He searches for the word. "It covers a certain area and hides those within it, blending into the background. You looked like you could see it though." His explanation ends on a frown as he remembers that I kept looking over at him. That explains why I could feel the shield, it uses their magic, but it doesn't explain the pull.

"I sensed something, and I felt like I was being pulled towards you—it," I say quickly, stumbling over the words. I don't want him to know I was being pulled towards him, but I'm not sure I covered it up since he's watching me carefully. "You didn't answer me. Why are you here?"

Cocking his head to the side, he takes another step closer to me, his eyes softening a bit. "I had to check that you were okay after everything that happened."

"I'm safe, for now," I murmur. I need to tell him about what happened at the banquet this morning. He can't keep sneaking in. "But things are not good, it's not safe for you to be here."

I tell him everything. All the events that occurred this morning and the new rules that have been implemented. That he and his people will be killed on sight, and even being seen with one of them is a death sentence for us. How Rhydian is looking for his queen and that the priests are now in control. About the king's plans on refilling his slave population. This seems to upset him the most, and he paces within the glowing space of the shield, growling under his breath.

"You need to leave, it's not safe here," I tell him for what seems like the tenth time. He looks up and suddenly rushes up to my side, his face serious.

"Come with me."

Turning to face him, I gasp at how close he is, my nose almost brushing his chest. "What?" I exclaim, taking a step back to put some space between us. I can tell he's excited about his suggestion. His eyes are bright and one corner of his lips twitches up in a half smile.

"Come with me. I'll take you to my clan, my tribe. You'd love it there. I will show you our ways. You can have a future there, you would be safe."

My heart stops. Staring at him, I can't believe what I'm hearing. Firstly, that he'd offer that to me, a woman he barely knows. He's offering me a home, something I've never had before, and that means more than he could ever know. However, the fact that he thinks I could just run from everything shows he doesn't know me at all.

"I can't just leave, Tor." I hate saying it, and his expression changes as soon as I open my mouth, like he knew what I was going to say.

"Why?" he demands, his face hard. I gesture around me uselessly, trying to explain but not knowing how. Growling low in his throat, he starts pacing the small area within the shield.

"I have responsibilities, promises I've made—"

"They made you a slave!" he interrupts, his anger rising now. I have no idea why he's so angry about all this, he's acting like I've rejected him personally. Perhaps that's how he sees it. "They don't deserve you!"

I look around us as he shouts, worried someone will overhear us, but thankfully no one seems to be around.

Thank the Mother, I praise, only imagining what would happen if someone found us. Stepping forward, I place my hand on his arm, pulling him to a stop.

"Hundreds of children are about to become slaves, Tor," I say emphatically, needing him to understand my reasoning, but I don't think anyone can really know unless they have been there. Slavery is a death sentence, not everyone is as lucky as I am. "Families are going to be killed. I can't run off into the sunset and leave them behind. What kind of person would that make me?"

I hadn't realised I felt that way until I said it out loud, but it's true. I would never forgive myself if I left and ignored the fact all those children were going into slavery.

Tor's face is dark as he watches me, but he finally sighs and wearily runs a hand over his face. "You haven't lost your kindness. Or your stubborn streak."

"What?" I frown at his comment, what was that supposed to mean? Lost my kindness? He hasn't known me long enough to know if I'm kind or stubborn. My thoughts are spinning in circles, but he cuts me off with a shake of his head.

"Nothing. I have a plan."