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Chapter 23

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Something is preventing me from moving my wrists, and my vision struggles to adjust to the daylight. I make no sound, noticing that Killian has his back turned. I could take him by surprise if only I could move.

My wrists are bound by rough ropes. My dagger and Philippe's sword are no longer in my possession. My body is leaning against a rock, and I shift slightly to rub the ropes against it. I try to focus on my hands, thinking back to the rabbit and my desire to see it disappear, but the burning sensation does not return.

My legs ache, but the worst pain is in my temple. Something is sticking to my hair, and the metallic smell rising to my nostrils convinces me that I'm bleeding. Glancing at Killian regularly, I see that he is still facing away from me, crouched down, searching for something in my bag. I turn back to the rock and quickly rub my wrists, trying to ignore the cuts the rock is causing on my skin.

"Alice, stop, calm down," his hands grip my shoulders, forcing me to look at him. Seeing his face so close to mine, his gentle hands on my body, his electrifying green eyes... I have murder on my mind.

He holds my hands in his, caressing my palm with his thumb. "You're bleeding, my dear. Don't hurt yourself more than necessary." He smiles at me, and it's too much for me to handle. An acidic saliva forms in my throat, and instead of forcing myself to swallow it, I spit in his face. He immediately recoils, wiping my insult away with a gesture. "I understand what you must be feeling, truly," he says. I say nothing, trembling with rage at his feet. "But please," he says, "don't do that again."

"Where are we?" I notice that my voice is hoarse, and any trace of what I could have felt towards him is replaced by hatred. Pure hatred. I have never been betrayed in my life, and I have never fallen in love either. I didn't think I would accomplish the feat of checking off both experiences at once.

"Soon at the castle." I look at him perplexed. "Why didn't you kill me? What are you playing at?"

His jaw tightens, and he runs a hand through his hair before grabbing my elbow to pull me towards him. I jerk away violently, but he catches me before I fall to the ground. My head throbs, and besides his face, the rest of the forest seems blurry.

"What's happening to me?" I struggle to finish my sentence, and for a moment, a flash of concern crosses his face. "The blow might have been a bit too strong," he sighs, his response devoid of any worry, and I chuckle bitterly. "No, you think?"

I consider the possibility of spitting in his face once again, but he bends down and picks up a rope at my feet. I realize that it is directly connected to my restraints as he starts walking, pulling me along behind him.

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