The Last Witch (Incenaga Trilogy) (32 page)

It was obvious from their faces
that they were not experiencing the same delay in time. Erick’s eyes held shock and a painful distrust at his brother’s swift betrayal. Rage and fury warped Prince Weldon’s handsome features as his blade lowered toward Erick’s face. Emmeline watched in horror as Erick’s shock turned to realization of the inevitable. His arm began lifting from his side, but he wouldn’t stop Prince Weldon’s blow in time.

Emmeline
moved to help him, but her body wouldn’t budge. Only her mind seemed to comprehend the altered time. Prince Weldon’s blade drew closer and closer to Erick’s neck, the metal reflecting the bright light shining from her eyes. Her heart pounded in her chest. It was all up to Prince Weldon and Erick. Everything hinged on who looked at her first. She was as trapped as they were, at the mercy of who would win the power to control her.

With Prince Weldon’s back to her, she hoped Erick would think to look up first. But Prince Weldon’s chin turned
toward her as his blade continued to descend. Emmeline wanted to shut her eyes, squeeze them closed to keep him from looking into them. He would abuse her power, just as others had abused the fire witches before her, and her life would be drained.

Erick’s
eyes flicked toward her with a look of regret, as if he were apologizing and saying goodbye in the same breath. But his gaze found her piercing light a moment before Prince Weldon. In a moment too quick to comprehend, time resumed, the light disappeared, and Prince Weldon flew across the room, his back sinking into the sword that had somehow cut her hands free and landed in her outstretched arm.

Emmeline fell
against Prince Weldon’s weight. She released her tight grip on the sword and scrambled to her feet. Prince Weldon grunted and fell to his knees. He turned his head to glance at her, the tip of the sword protruding from his chest.

“What have you done?” he whispered. “You were going to be mine.” He groaned and turned to Erick. “Mahlon will aveng
e my death and Emmeline’s father will die. You won't get your happy ending.”

“Emmelin
e’s father is safe,” Erick said. “I sent a unit to Volarcus to recover him from prison.”

Prince Weldon’s eyes widened but Emmeline
couldn’t tell if it was from surprise or from a sudden stab of pain.

“Yes,” Erick said,
somehow knowing the cause of Prince Weldon’s expression in a way only a brother could. “Emmeline told me yesterday where he was and the demands placed upon her. Unfortunately, at the time I couldn’t be sure who was placing those demands. I had my suspicions, of course. Now I know.”

Erick pulled the sword out of Prince We
ldon’s back and tossed it aside. Prince Weldon screamed out in agony as blood blossomed from his chest. Turning one last time to glance at Emmeline, his eyes bulged wide and then he fell to the floor. His breathing ceased and the room went silent.

Emmeline’s hand lifted to cove
r her mouth. Shivering, she backed away from Prince Weldon’s body. She had killed again. Another life taken because she was a witch, a monster. Her eyes shot to Erick’s. He held out a hand to her, his eyes gentle and worried. She didn’t deserve him. The only safe place for her was locked up in a dungeon where she could never hurt again.

Stumbling backwards, Emmeline turned away from Erick and
escaped into the next room only to be reminded of yet another body and another death. The soldier’s lifeless eyes stared at her in blame and suddenly the scene from the mountain bend flashed before her eyes. The soldiers’ cries echoed in her mind followed by their sudden silence as she viciously tossed them into the rigid stone. With her hand still over her mouth she bolted out of the room. She had caused so much death and destruction over such a short time. What would she do over a lifetime!

Images she d
idn’t want to conjure surfaced in her mind. Death at the cliff, death on the mountain road, death in her bedchambers, death at her feet. She wanted to run into the wind and have it blow the burning images from her mind.

E
rick cried out to her, begging her to stop, begging her to listen, but she kept running.

Emmeline scrambled outside, willing the wind to blow through her clothes and body. She wanted to purge herself of what she had just done. She had killed another man. She couldn’t control who she was and the destruction she was capable of causing.

Angry tears spilled down her cheeks and blew dry as she ran. She
dashed off the path and came to a stop. Looking around, she found herself in the same clearing where she had met Erick.

Memories
of Erick crashed into her. She loved him and yet she had run from him again. No matter how hard she tried to be strong, she always seemed to end up running. A new wave of tears flooded her cheeks. She fell to her knees and sobbed into her hands.

T
he crunch of leaves pressing against the earth cut off her sob. Emmeline lifted her face to see Erick emerge from the trees. He hesitated, and then stepped toward her. When she started to cry again, he folded her into his arms and helped her to her feet. He held out a handkerchief, uncertainty written across his face.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I
didn’t know what you were going through. I would have returned so much sooner.”

“You are the Crown Prince.”

“I had no idea you were brought here against your will, Emmeline. I would never force you to marry me. I meant what I said at the waterfall. You will always have a choice with me.”

“You said you were a gamekeeper.”

“I was becoming suspicious of Mahlon so I announced that I would be traveling. I left for Thortom and then returned to watch Mahlon from a distance. I had no idea that my own brother was involved!”

“Why didn’t you tell me who you were?”

“I felt so dishonorable deceiving you. I wanted to tell you every moment we were together, but I was afraid of what Mahlon would do if he discovered my suspicions and knew you could find me. Please forgive me. I’ve made such a mess of things.”

Emmeline shivered and fol
ded her arms across her chest. Erick was the Crown Prince!

Erick ran a hand through his thick hair. “I knew who you were the moment
you said your name, and I fell in love with you the first time your laugh filled the air. I wanted you to love me as a man and not because I am a prince.”

“All this time,” Emmeline spoke aloud. All this time he knew who she was. He knew she was going to marry him
, but had hoped for her to love him first.

Erick
waited for Emmeline to speak, but she wasn’t sure what to say. Erick was the Crown Prince and he loved her. Was Erick even his real name?

“I’m not sure how I should address you
.”

Erick’s shoulders slumped at the formality of her tone. “Erick.
You can call me Erick. My full name is Richmond Frederick. My father, along with the rest of court, refers to me as Prince Richmond. My mother was fonder of my second given name, Frederick, although she usually just shortened it to Erick. I liked having you call me Erick.”

Emmeline nodded still unsure
how to continue. Her mind brimmed with questions. She couldn’t concentrate on just one to ask so she let her heart speak instead. Closing the space between them, she tilted her head and pressed her lips to his.

Erick
took in a long breath and placed his hands on either side of her face, his fingers intertwined within her hair. She reached up to pull him closer and he lowered his arms to wrap around her. His touch was warm and gentle, careful not to aggravate her injuries.

She leaned
into his arms and smiled at him, her heart bursting with delight. He was her betrothed, the man she had dreaded marrying. And now she rejoiced in discovering that he was the man she had loved all along. She looked into Erick’s eyes, returning his affectionate gaze. He held her closer and leaned in to kiss her again.

Cool
drops of rain fell unnoticed around them, falling into their hair and soaking their clothing. Droplets streamed down their faces as they held onto each other. The water tickled their joined lips and they broke apart laughing.

“Would you l
ike to get out of this rain and head back to the palace?” Erick asked.

“I’d like to get out the rain,” Emmeline clarified.

Erick grinned, seeming to understand the meaning behind her choice of words.

The
rain began pouring down, splashing into the soft mud and up onto their clothing. Emmeline glanced at the dark clouds forming over them, seeming to grow thicker by the minute as they churned with the weight of moisture.

“We should run before it gets any worse,” Erick shouted over the rainfall.
“We can go to my cottage.”

Emmeline nodded and grabbed his outstretched hand.
They ran through the forest with their free hands covering their faces. Each took their turns slipping on the rain soaked ground, coming up covered in mud. Emmeline didn’t think the rain could come down any faster, but it proved her wrong.

Erick’s pace didn’t slow until
they arrived at his tiny cottage. He bolted up the steps with Emmeline in tow and opened the door to let her in. She stood dripping by the door while he lit candles and started a warm fire. She braced herself for the fire’s pull, but it never came. As the candles illuminated the room one by one, she glanced over the modest dwelling Erick had called home for three months.

A long blue couch was the main piece of furniture in the one room cottage. It was placed in front of the fire with a small table on the far end
and several books stacked on top. A braided rug made from dyed wool covered the wood flooring in front of the couch. A coal stove sat in the far corner of the room with another small table nearby for both food preparation and eating. A water basin stood underneath the only window. There was a storage closet to the right for hanging clothes and built in shelves to her left. It was tidy and smelled of fresh lemon and pine.

A puddle
had formed around Emmeline’s feet. She wrapped her arms around herself and drew in a little heat from the fire. It didn’t consume her or pull her into its grasp. Rather, it warmed her and let her choose how much heat she drew in.

“Why do you think this fire doesn’t control me, like the others do?” she asked Erick.

Erick looked up, his brows pulled together. “What others?”

“Mahlon took me to a fire a few times
, and it consumed me. I couldn’t stop the amount of heat flowing into my body. I just kept getting hotter and hotter until I thought I was going to burst. The same thing happened with Prince Weldon a few times. But with you, and when I was on my own, the fire doesn’t seem to control me.”

Erick nodded and scratched his head. “
Maybe when you are around others who want to control you, you lose control of the fire. That could be how the Fire Witches were captured and forced to take a master. They couldn’t help but answer the call of the flames and shine their eyes.”

“
I suppose that would explain why I never felt any pull toward fires when I was growing up on the farm. My dad never wanted to own me.”

“
I have something you can change into while our clothes dry,” Erick said as he rummaged through the closet. He handed her a large cream shirt and dark blue pants. “They’ll be big on you, but at least you’ll be dry.”

“
They’ll be just fine.”

Erick grabbed
clothes for himself and headed outside to change on the porch, allowing her some privacy. She changed and threw her dirty clothes into the water basin with the full intention of scrubbing the mud out. But when she plunged her hands into the water and began working the fabric, the pain in her wrist bit back in protest. When it was clear she wasn’t going to get any of the mud out, she sat on the couch and stretched her toes toward the flames, cradling her hurt wrist against her chest.

Erick came in after awhile and added wood to the fire. He took one look at her and frowned. “It’s swollen,”
he said pointing to her arm.

Emmeline nodded.

“Is it broken?”

Emmeline shrugged.

Erick sat next to her and held out his hand. “May I?”

Emmeline nodded again and Erick gently took hold of her wrist. He felt along the bone and gently rotated it. “I don’t think it’s broken,” he said. He
walked back to closet and pulled out a long strip of fabric. “But we should probably support it anyway.”

Erick set to work wrapping her wrist and Emmeline glanced out the windows.

“Do you think my father will have any trouble in this weather?” she asked. “When do you expect him to return with your men from Volarcus? You don’t think they had any problems releasing him, do you?”

Many more questions
begged to be asked, but Emmeline stopped herself before they flooded out of her mouth.

“Your father
should return within a fortnight. However, this rain may delay them. They may be forced to wait it out, which is what we might end up doing as well. It’s getting worse out there.”