Page 145 of The Witch in the Dead of Night

The soldiers around me shuffled, steadying their arms. The Master at Arms harrumphed, his mustache quivering. Ignoring them, I turned to face Enhart, my heartbeat rattling my ribcage.

“If it has to be anyone,” I whispered. “I want it to be you.”

I was careful not to meet Mordric’s gaze, afraid of what I might see in it.

“Are you sure?” asked Enhart.

I nodded.

A beat passed between us. A muscle in his jaw pulsed as he stared into my eyes. He sighed once before peeling off of the wall. “Give me the damned thing,” he ordered Lord Volorthen.

The elderly vampire exchanged a glance with Mordric, who nodded his approval. Unfurling his fingers, he dropped the metal cuff and its key into Enhart’s open palm. The prince held out his free hand, beckoning for my own.

I stifled a gasp as we touched, the memory of our previous embrace lingering at the forefront of my mind. His fingers swept over my skin, pausing on the point where my quickened pulse was closest to the surface. For a brief moment, my magic flared to life as if his touch was a conduit.

The prince’s velvety voice tickled my ears. Why me?

Lord Volorthen unnerves me.

That’s a common sentiment, but it’s not the reason.

I exhaled a shaky breath. You made me into the witch that I am today. It’s fitting that you would be the one to take my magic away, don’t you think?

The prince grinned. How masochistic of you.

I returned his smile.

I can’t promise that he’ll ever allow you to remove it. Neither can they.

I cut my glance toward Mordric and his advisers. The King watched me silently, his body stiff. But when I looked at Enhart, his expression was calm. Undaunted. In my mind’s eye, I could still picture the moment I first noticed him, the vampire princeling who captured the eye of every nobleman and noblewoman who passed through the castle doors. Knowing him as I did now, I knew he was so different from what I had initially thought. I searched his eyes for any sign that he felt what I did. Even if he didn’t, he was the only one I trusted with my magic, with my future.

Do it, I thought.

The clink of a key in the cuff’s latch pricked my ears. I slid my fingers out of the prince’s reach, the effects of the iron creeping through my veins and toward my beating heart like poison.

Turning to his brother, the prince nodded. “Thank you,” said Mordric, holding Enhart’s gaze as if they were having their own silent conversation. It was possible, of course, although the idea unnerved me for some reason. “And now, I would like a moment alone with Miss Erramun.”

The advisers exchanged worried glances.

“Your Majesty, I cannot condone this,” countered Sir Raltisse, his armor clinking as he straightened.

Mordric shot him a dark look. “Your insinuation insults me. My consort is no longer a threat.”

I winced.

“I order you to leave,” he continued. “If only for five minutes.”

I avoided Mordric’s gaze as the party slunk reluctantly out of the room, their footsteps fading until they were out of earshot. Tears pricked at my eyes as Mordric closed the gap between us, lingering just out of reach.

He cleared his throat. “I apologize that we have not had the opportunity to be alone before now.”

I said nothing. The fury that had ignited within me the last time I’d stood before him in this room had been snuffed out the moment my magic had. Instead, I was left hollow, numb to the fact that he had allowed his advisers to decide my fate, numb to the fact he had wanted to keep me like a caged animal in his menagerie.

“I know you must be upset,” he pressed.

Upset. I nearly laughed as I pictured how he would act if the situation were reversed. I didn’t dare speak the thought aloud. “You did what you thought was best,” I said flatly.

A shudder coursed through my body as he ran his thumb along my cheek, dragging my gaze to meet his. “I did,” he agreed. “As I did when I first put you here.”