by Lea Doué
Bushy eyebrows crept up from behind the blindfold, and a slow smile spread across his face, revealing more of his heritage than anything else she’d seen. She had enough sisters to know that some siblings shared certain traits, and this man smiled like Holic. She remembered that smile.
“Hello, Gwen.” A pause. “What are you wearing?”
Chapter Three
Gwen inched back yet again. “I’m wearing more than you are,” she blurted.
Eddy coughed and rubbed his hand over his mouth and chin, an awkward attempt to hide a laugh. “I meant that I can tell you’re not wearing a skirt we could cut into bandages. We need to get your arm taken care of, and maybe your head.”
“Oh.” Right. Bandages. “I’m wearing a long-sleeved shirt under my tunic. It’s shredded on one side, but the rest of it seems usable.”
“That will work. I can cut it into strips with my knife.”
She wasn’t taking off her shirt with him facing her, blindfolded or not.
He waited. “Is something wrong? Can you move your arm at all?”
“It’s not that. You need to turn around.”
His head jerked back. “If you want, but I can’t see.”
“Just humor me, please.”
He turned around and sat in the dirt, legs crossed, elbows propped on his knees. Blood smeared his back, but it must have been hers. The few marks he had were old scars.
She unbuckled her leather belt and laid it to the side, then peeled off her tunic carefully, gritting her teeth as she pulled her arm through. After loosening the laces at the top of her shirt, she tugged it over her head, using her bad arm as little as possible and watching Eddy closely. He didn’t move. Her undershirt had escaped the worst stains. She fastened her belt on over it, tucking her tunic in to keep it safe.
“Done.”
Eddy turned back around. “How do you feel?”
“Dizzy.” She took a deep breath. “And thirsty.” She could use some of that water right now.
He picked up the shirt as if he knew right where it lay, cut off the ruined sleeve, then sliced the remaining fabric into thick strips.
She picked one up. It looked the right length to wrap around her arm, but she couldn’t tie the ends.
He held up a strip of fabric. “You’ll have to guide my hands.”
She scooted closer, took the bandage, and laid it over the cut. No need to hold it in place—it stuck to the wound. She took Eddy’s hand and guided it to her arm. “Here.”
He fumbled a bit with the cloth until he found both ends, then wrapped it around her arm a few times before tying it off. “Is it deep?”
“Not very.” She handed him another strip of cloth. “I’ve had worse.”
“Have you?” He layered three more strips on top. “There. We’ll get this cleaned up later. What about your head?”
“It’s fine, but yours is still bleeding a bit.”
He touched the cut on his forehead and winced. “I think I’ll make it.”
The remaining bits of shirt were too short to wrap around his head. She might not be a healer like her sister Junia or a gardener like Neylan, but she’d learned a thing or two from them. After a quick search of the surrounding bushes and ferns, she saw what she wanted.
Spiderwebs.
She crawled over, keeping her weight off her bad arm.
Eddy stood quickly and took a step towards her. “Gwen?”
“Just a minute.” She’d forgotten he couldn’t see her. He looked worried, like he thought she might be trying to escape.
He waited, hands at his sides.
She picked a fly out of the spiderweb, then gathered up the threads with her fingers. It wasn’t much, but it would do. She couldn’t wait to tell Theo and Holic that their brother was alive.
She stood, a little wobbly, and made her way over to him. The cut was small but deep. If weaver dragon webs weren’t so thick, she could use them to sew it up. There were more than enough floating around in the trees. She’d never seen so many in one area, and they extended in the canopy as far as she could see.
“Hold still, please. I’m putting spiderwebs on the cut to slow the bleeding. It might sting a bit.” She dabbed the webs onto his skin, and his cheeks scrunched up as if he were squeezing his eyes shut. She pinched the edges of the blindfold, intending to pull it up just enough to cover the wound and keep the webs in place, but he jerked his head away and stepped back.
“Easy. I’m not taking it off, and now you’ve messed up my work.” Lily often told her she came off as fussy when she was trying to be reassuring. She softened her voice. “Can I try again?”
He blew out a breath and nodded. She smeared the webs back in place, spread out the edge of the blindfold to hold them on, then wiped her hands on her tunic. She needed a bath as badly as he did.
“Are you going to tell me how you got that?” she asked.
“Stray branch,” he said. “And I have a feeling we’ll be telling each other a lot of things, but let’s get home first.”
“Home?”
“What I’ve called home for the past four years.”
Another piece of the puzzle that fit perfectly. But what had he been doing out here all these years? And he still hadn’t told her why he was wearing a blindfold.
“Ready?”
“Yes.”
They continued in the direction they’d been going, but without being able to pinpoint the sun, it was impossible to tell if it was north or south, east or west. The forest floor was unmarred by dragon marks. They picked their way through ferns and around stumps and boulders. The ground rose and fell gently, but they progressed slowly, even with Eddy feeling his way with a stick.
Ten minutes passed in silence. Gwen had to concentrate not to chatter, as Eddy seemed to use sound to find their direction, lifting his chin and tilting his head from time to time. She tripped more than once while staring at the muscles on his back as he walked ahead of her. He hadn’t been idle these four years.
His foot hooked a root, and he muttered under his breath.
“I don’t know how far we have to go,” she said, “but would it help if you took my arm?” She should have asked earlier, but she was out of her element in the woods without a horse. Not to mention everything that had happened.
He stopped and turned his face in her direction. “It might. I know where I am, but I’ve lost the trail. Are you getting tired?”
“I’ll be fine as long as that stone dragon doesn’t come back.”
“It’s not worried about us anymore.”
She rubbed her head, not as strong as she wanted him to believe. “So, it gave up?”
“It got what it wanted.” He pressed his lips together, and they disappeared into his beard for a second. “We’re within its boundary line.”
Her head buzzed. That sounded too much like a trap. She studied the forest as if she might spot a fence or a wall, but it looked no different than it had before. Just endless greens and browns.
“I don’t suppose we’re getting out anytime soon?”
His whole body slumped. “I’ve been trying for four years.”
Years. Could she go that long without seeing her family? She pushed the thought aside, not a difficult task with her head pounding. “Let’s get to this home of yours so we can get some rest. I don’t plan to be here for that long myself.”
His beard twitched like he might be trying to smile. She took his hand and placed in on her arm, and they continued walking.
After another ten minutes or so, he threw his stick to the side. “So, what were you doing in this part of the forest?”
Without giving any names, Gwen told him about traveling from Eltekon to Socora. Travel between the capitals was common enough not to raise any suspicion about her identity, which she was still reluctant to share. Partly because she rarely met anyone who didn’t know who she was, and curiosity gnawed at her. She wanted to find out what he thought of her, uncolored by her title of princess.
&
nbsp; She also wanted to ask him about the girl Will had seen, but decided to wait. Bay could still be right about the girl being a sorceress, and Gwen didn’t know what kind of relationship Eddy may have with her.
She hoped Bay and Hazel were safe. She had to trust that her actions had drawn the dragon away long enough for them to escape or to be rescued by the soldiers.
“Sounds like you have a lot of people who will be missing you.”
“My father won’t stop searching until he finds me.”
Eddy nodded but didn’t reply.
“He’ll find both of us.”
“Perhaps.”
They walked in silence. Eventually, they found a narrow path, and Eddy walked with more confidence. Gwen leaned on his arm, her strength fading. Dusk fell, and her eyelids drooped with exhaustion. He snaked an arm around her waist, and she leaned into him, not caring at all whether it was appropriate.
“I need to rest,” she whispered.
“We’re almost there.” Without warning, he scooped her up and carried her as he’d done before. With no strength to protest, she blinked heavily and leaned her head on his shoulder, wrapping her arms around his neck. How many times had she envisioned him sweeping her off her feet? Silly daydreams. Reality was much better, although she’d imagined it more lavender-scented.
The darkness thickened. Small yellow lights blossomed among the bushes and trees, winking in and out. An enormous stump, maybe shoulder height, loomed in front of them. Eddy swerved as if he knew it was there, then weaved around two more. She blinked again. They weren’t stumps—they were stones, remnants of crumbled walls. A squat castle loomed in front of them, but no welcoming torches stood in the courtyard. The place was abandoned.
Her eyes slipped closed.
When they opened again, she lay on a sofa in front of a fire. Eddy crouched beside her, holding out a silver cup, dewy beads dripping down its side. Water. She grabbed the cup and gulped down the contents.
“Get some rest,” he whispered, draping a blanket over her. “You’re safe here.”
*
She woke sometime later and sat up, her hair tumbling in a tangled mess down her back. The fire blazed as bright as it had when she’d fallen asleep. Her boots sat next to it. The small room had no windows, so it could have been morning or midnight. She stretched and then winced as pain shot down her back and arm. Eddy was gone.
With an obvious understanding of head injuries, he’d checked on her twice during the night, offering her water and apologies. His rumpled blanket still lay on the rug in front of the fire. She swung her feet onto the floor and looked around. The stone walls reminded her of her family’s castle by the sea, but these held no tapestries or paintings. Two overstuffed chairs formed a half moon with the sofa around the fireplace, where a dozen or so books added color to the mantel. Just where a window should be sat a desk with a silver pitcher and cups and a flickering candle.
Her stomach rumbled, and her gaze returned to the door. Eddy wouldn’t have locked it. Would he? She took a few deep breaths. No need to panic. She’d go find him. Or a maid. Surely there was a maid somewhere in this place. Although, if there was, why had he slept on the floor?
She stood up and groaned. She’d fallen from horses before, even Buttercup, but she’d never been this sore. She hobbled to the door and turned the handle. It moved, but barely. Jiggling it didn’t work. She glanced around for something to smash the door with—the desk chair, maybe—but before she could drag it over, someone knocked.
“Hello?” she said.
“May I come in?” Eddy asked, his voice muffled through the wood.
“It’s locked.”
“I think we both had our hands on the handle at the same time.”
“Oh.” She opened the door.
Eddy held a tray with buttered bread and sliced peaches. “Thought you might be hungry.”
He’d tidied up. His hair still stuck out at odd angles, as did his bushy beard, but they were clean. He wore a tattered black shirt and grey trousers with frayed edges. No shoes. A black blindfold covered his eyes. He looked like a pirate.
She placed the tray on the desk. “Will you join me?”
“I ate already.” He leaned against the wall and folded his arms over his chest.
She was too hungry to bother being ladylike, and he couldn’t see her, anyway. The first slice of bread disappeared embarrassingly fast.
“Did you sleep well?” he asked.
“Mmm hmm.”
The second slice of bread followed the first, then a full cup of water.
“How’s your arm?”
“S’good.”
She had to chew the peaches more carefully, but they didn’t last long. After drinking most of the water in the pitcher, she glanced at Eddy, thinking to offer him some. A wide grin spread across his face.
“What’s funny?”
“Nothing.” He said it too fast and pressed his lips together. And then he snorted.
Having no napkin, she wiped her mouth on the back of her hand. “I’ll have you know—”
“You just wiped your mouth on your arm, didn’t you?” His shoulders twitched with suppressed laughter.
“How did you—”
“I have very good hearing.”
Oh. She hadn’t thought he might hear her bad manners. She smiled, and a laugh bubbled up. As soon as he heard her, Eddy lost control. She’d never known anyone could snort so much while laughing, which caused her to laugh more. A full minute or two passed before they both regained their composure. His blindfold had darkened with moisture at the bottom.
He pushed away from the wall, still smiling. “I haven’t laughed like that… .” He took a deep breath and sighed. “I haven’t laughed in years.”
Her smile grew heavy. “I haven’t eaten like that in years. Sorry you had to be a witness.”
“And here I thought all princesses were stuffy and formal.”
Her throat tightened. She shouldn’t have eaten so fast. “What do you mean?”
“I know who you are, Gwen.” He turned his ear in her direction, his expression solemn, all traces of laughter gone. “Or should I say, Your Highness?”
Chapter Four
Gwen swallowed hard. So much for keeping secrets.
She should tell him about his brothers, but she hesitated. Perhaps when she knew more about the mysterious girl and what part she played in this. Eddy had said nothing about her yet.
“Gwen?”
Her gaze re-focused on his face, his eyebrows raised in what looked like a hopeful expression behind the blindfold.
There was no use pretending she didn’t know his real name. “Yes, Prince Edric?”
A small intake of air, and Eddy leaned sideways, catching himself against the wall as if he’d misjudged the distance. “You know who I am?”
“Of course I know. I’ve thought about you often since—”
“You were traveling to Socora. You must know something about my father and brothers.” His words poured out in a rush. “Tell me everything you know.”
She stood. “I want to and I will, but you need to give me some answers first. Please. This place frightens me, and I’m half frightened of you.”
“Of me? Why?” His tone changed from disbelieving to hurt. “Gwen, you know me.”
She settled on the sofa. Eddy had left the door open a crack, which eased her nerves. “Because you didn’t tell me who you were when you found me. Because our outrider saw both you and the stone dragon together while he was chasing a girl through the forest, trying to rescue her. He thought you were a sorcerer, but I know better.” She paused. “I think the sorcerer might be her. You’ve said nothing about her. Has she put you under some sort of curse?” If so, he might not be able to speak of it. She and her sisters knew that only too well.
He sat on the chair closest to her. “I’m under no curse, but sorcery has made me cautious.” His eyebrows disappeared underneath the blindfold.
A lot could be said
with eyebrows.
“I want to answer your questions,” he continued, “but I don’t know where to start.”
“Lily says that all stories should start at the beginning and not a moment sooner. So, maybe tell me how you found this place?”
He nodded, just a quick jerk of his head. “I was traveling with… my mother. You know that, I’m sure.”
“Yes.”
“I heard a girl scream, and not just once.”
Sounded familiar.
“I had to find her. I couldn’t just… .” His shoulders rose and fell as he sighed. It was almost a growl. “I had to be the dashing hero and rescue the beautiful maiden. She ran fast, like she was scared for her life. My horse had trouble keeping up in the undergrowth.”
Buttercup hadn’t liked the greenery, either.
“My mother followed me. So all the soldiers did, too. Every one of them.”
“Did you save the girl?”
“Turned out she didn’t need saving. The sorcerer used her as bait to lure us into his trap. He wanted to set her up as the next queen of Osha.”
“What?” She glanced around as if the real sorcerer might poof out of thin air.
Eddy leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms. “I was supposed to marry her. He’d keep my mother here, safe but secret. Everyone would think she was dead, but I’d tell Father the truth so he could join her. I’d be king, Sissi would be queen, and I still don’t know what the sorcerer would have gotten out of it.”
“Sissi is his daughter?”
He shook his head. “Some girl he saved from poverty. He groomed her to think she deserved a crown, that she was the most beautiful creature in all the kingdoms, that people would throw themselves at her feet in adoration.”
“Thorns and thistles.”
“Yeah.” He turned his face to the fire. “I said no, so he tried to sweeten the deal with a love potion. Said it would make things easier for me.”
“Did it?”
“I wouldn’t take it, and then it didn’t matter. Sissi found it and took it herself.” He huffed. “She thought that was how it worked.”