Chapter 14

Alistair and Nora spent a great deal of time together in the caves. However, they did not spend all their time together.

And so, one week after the events at Mossley, Alistair had left to go acquire some provisions. And though Nora offered to join him, her attentive dragon didn't miss the awkward way she walked, still sore from the vigorous activity of last night—and this morning—and so he insisted she stay home to rest.

Nora missed him. It wasn't that she wasn't comfortable on her own. But she found herself lingering by the entrance of the cave all the same, glancing up at the sky every few minutes while she settled to read the latest book he had gotten for her. (Alistair had more books than she could ever hope to read, but she had taken a liking to one author in particular, and he had gone out of his way to hunt down the next book in the series.)

Morthil had remained deep in the caves; the sunlight bothered the creature's sensitive eyes. Nora was alone with her book. For a time.

It was not the sight of wings on the horizon that drew her attention. Instead, it was a noise from below.

Other humans.

"Nora Tashe?" an unfamiliar voice called. "Are you there? We saw the dragon leave."

Curiosity drew her to the edge. And there, she saw the last person she had ever expected.

"You are alive!" The Prince of Wyrdova peered up at her. His steel armor glittered in the daylight, nearly blinding her. "Fear not, fair maiden. We are here to rescue you at last."

Nora had two thoughts in quick succession.

I'm not a maiden anymore.

And I certainly don't wish to be rescued.

She stammered as much of the latter as she could, but the prince continued unperturbed, accompanied by half a dozen knights. Assured of her presence, they continued to scale the cliffside.

Nora wanted to retreat into the cave. But if she did, they would just follow her deeper and deeper, and should Alistair return and find them with his hoard, he would be utterly enraged. They didn't deserve to die for trying to rescue her.

The prince appeared before her, and against her better judgment, she took a half-step back.

She had seen him only once before, on the day of the tithing.

"Prince, I appreciate you coming all this way—"

"'Twas nothing, fair Nora." He interrupted her with a brilliant flash of white teeth. "That blond boy, Garth from… Moseisely? Mosslo? Well, whichever. He rode all the way to the castle to tell us that you had not, in fact, been eaten by that evil dragon."

So it was Garth she had to thank for this mess.

"On my honor," the prince continued without so much as bothering to breathe. "I could not bear to leave you in his clutches a day longer, so I have traveled with great haste to come and rescue you."

She couldn't help but notice that the prince who had made great haste was clean shaven without a single freshly combed hair out of place. He looked more like he was about to sit for a noble portrait than to rush off, but she shouldn't be so uncharitable. His heart surely had been in the right place.

"Now, let us go," he finished, extending an armored arm in her direction and already twisting his body, expecting her to follow.

At last, he paused long enough for Nora to interject. "I don't need rescuing."

He turned back to her, his perfect smile going sideways for a moment before he recovered. "Ah, you're one of those modern maidens, aren't you, who feel somehow undermined if a nobleman rescues you? Truly, Nora, there is no shame in having a knight come to your aid when you have no hope of escape. Especially if it is a prince like myself." He winked in a way that said that was especially an honor.

Nora was beginning to feel queasy. "I appreciate your efforts, Prince," she said, trying hastily to soothe his ego. "But what I mean to say is I have no plans to escape at all. And not"—she said hastily before he could interrupt—"because I have resigned myself to a miserable existence and cannot conceive of the familiar life that you would return me to. I am happy right where I am. In fact, I am happier here than ever before. I will not deny the dragon has been taxing on the kingdom, but he has not been cruel to me. So, please, it is an honor for you to have taken the time to inquire about my wellbeing, and I hope you have a speedy departure before the dragon returns." And now leave me alone, she finished with her eyes.

But the prince did not turn to the exit and depart. Instead, a look of rage came over him.

"You insolent chit," he seethed. "You're coming with me. And that is an order from the royal crown of Wyrdova."

When Nora did not immediately leap to obey, he decided to take her by force. He grabbed her by the arms and swiftly overpowered her, bidding one of the knights to take control of her, which he did, if a bit apologetically.

"Just leave me be!" she demanded, flailing helplessly against his armor.

The prince ignored her.

In short order, they moved back down the mountainside and piled her onto the prince's horse. In a dreadful, ironic way, it was almost a mirror to her trip to the tithing those months ago.

She kept arguing and arguing, even when the prince threatened to gag her. She silenced only when he finally snapped that it seemed the dragon was more dangerous than ever they'd thought if he could use his powers to control the minds of feeble women and turn them against the crown, and they would have to return to hunt the beast down if the control didn't wear off.

A veiled threat—obey, or they'd come back with an army for Alistair. Obviously, the prince had staked his pride on rescuing Nora, and the spoiled brat would settle for nothing less. If she continued to argue, he might well make good on his threat, and despite all of Alistair"s assurances no mortal could kill him, she didn't want to see him harmed. So she said no more.

She wished Alistair would rescue her.

It was a silly hope. To Alistair, she was just a thing. A thing he liked, a part of his hoard he enjoyed, sure. But just one piece, no more valuable than a hunk of metal. To her, he was so much more. He was the one she thought of when she woke, when she read a witty passage in a book she wanted to share, when Morthil did a particularly charming trick. He was the one who made her chest flutter and ache. But for him, that person was destined to be someone else, some mythical twin flame.

So no, she did not believe Alistair would come for her.

And when she was cowed into silence and the fact settled over her, a choking noose that made it hard to breathe, Nora wept.