The Princess and the Warlock

Chapitre Quatre

My eyes felt as if they'd been cemented shut, glued down and unable to open. My breath was heavy in my chest, like rocks had been replaced with the oxygen, weighing me down to this—bed? I was lying down, something soft on top of me, something soft underneath me. My head was propped up slightly.

Why was I in a bed? What happened?

I shifted slightly, a sting in my limbs as I tried to move.

"Careful," a voice as smooth as silk said. "The magic took a toll on you. Refrain from pushing yourself, Princess."

Immediately, I froze. Magic. Magic.

Oh, good God. Though my eyes felt sewn shut, they flew open. I was greeted by a dull room, filled with grays and browns and blacks. Black door, brown flooring, gray window coverings. But when I turned to my left, that's where all the color was, and sucked it from the entire room.

The warlock who was staring back at me with the world's craziest eyes and world's craziest hair. His sole focus was on me, leaning back in a seat he'd dragged to the bed, covered in black. Black shirt, black overcoat, black pants. It was such a stark contrast against his white hair.

My throat felt as if it had closed up. "Where am I?" The words were choked out, quiet, as if I hadn't spoken in days. I could feel my heart beating faster in my chest. "Where am I?"

"You're safe," he assured me, leaning forward. There was a complicated expression on his face, a slight indentation between his brow, as if he was concentrating very hard. "Calm your heart, Princess, you're safe here."

His words released a little bit of pressure in my chest, but not enough. "Where exactly is here?" I tried to push myself up on my elbows, but my body was too weak. A new sort of panic set in my veins, my breath hitching. "Why can't I move? What have you done to me, Warlock?" I spat the word in my fear, blinking back tears.

The frown on his face deepened, blue eyes deepening in color, white pupils a searing fire in their depths. "I can only answer one question at a time, Princess," he said evenly. "You're in the guest bedroom of Gossington Manor. You cannot move because the magic I used to transport us here exhausted your body, and you've been asleep for days. And I have not done anything to you that you did not ask for."

I gasped. "What?"

The confusion on his face morphed into disgust. "Not that! I overheard you, by the tree line. That you'd rather die than be his wife." The warlock gestured to me lying on the bed. "I liken myself to a certain Fairy Godmother, don't you agree?"

"A fairy what?"

"I'm granting you a reprieve," he told me. "A much needed one, if I gauged your feelings correctly."

I let out a slow breath, allowing myself to close my eyes. "You gauged them wrong. I—I don't need a reprieve. I was just—I didn't mean it." Except I did mean it. This reprieve was the best gift I'd ever gotten, even though I wasn't exactly sure what it entailed yet. "I need to go back."

The warlock stood from the chair, walking over to the window and parting the dull curtains. There was no sunlight to peak through—only darkness and the light from the moon. In the moonlight, his hair seemed to glow. "I can see into your heart, Princess," he said with his back turned to me. "And I know you don't mean that."

He didn't understand. I had duties. Sure, a million and one times I'd dreamt of running away to these very woods, but never could I possibly act on those whims! Oh, what will Father say? He'll beat me black and blue when he finds me, surely. He'll practically sell me to Prince Grimond, tell him to do as he wishes with me.