Page 63 of The Sunbound Princess
Her lips parted. Slowly, she turned to Dain. He regarded her steadily, his broad shoulders tan against the white pillows at his back.
She turned back to me. “What good is the word of a thief?”
It stung, but I deserved it. “I haven’t given you a reason to believe me,” I said. “But I’ll do whatever I can to earn your trust. However long it takes, Ezabell, I’ll do it. And if it takes longer than the years the gods have set aside for me, I’ll find you in another life and continue trying.”
She released a trembling breath. Sunlight from the window gilded the tips of her eyelashes.
“I’m just a human,” I said, “but I pledge myself to your cause, Ezabell Kasreneth. I will help you find the sunstone, and I’ll see to it that you take back your throne. I vow it.”
“So do I,” Dain said. She looked at him, and he gave a firm nod. “We’re yours if you’ll have us.”
She stared at us, her breathing shallow. We weren’t exactly a prize, two cursed thieves with little to offer aside from campfires and sleight of hand.
Something flickered in her eyes—grief, maybe. Or want. Not forgiveness. Not yet. That was all right. I hadn’t expected it to come that easily.
“We’ll see,” she said at last. Rising, she stepped around me.
“And you’ll stay?” Dain asked.
Ezabell stopped, her shoulders stiffening. Then she turned. “For now.”
I let a sigh ease past my lips. It wasn’t a no.
For now.It was better than I’d hoped for. Dain was alive, Viraxes’s curse was paused, and Ezabell hadn’t walked out the door.
And for now, that was enough.
Chapter
Seventeen
EZABELL
Dusk settled over the village, the inn casting a long shadow over the ground.
I stood at the window with my fingers pressed to the glass. Below, a lamplighter shuffled to a thick post with a ladder in one hand and a long, thin taper in the other. He leaned the ladder against the wooden column, climbed the rungs, and lit the lantern at its crown. A warm glow spilled over the packed dirt street.
The bed’s reflection appeared in the glass in front of me. Dain rested against the mountain of pillows, his eyes closed and his chest rising and falling evenly. His color was better. The curse had receded to the bottom of his ribs, but it was still present. He’d dozed throughout the day, an anxious Nikolas hovering over him until I finally ordered him to go find us dinner. When he hesitated, I pointed to the bed.
“Dain won’t regain his strength without food.”
Nikolas had frowned. “What if he gets worse while I’m gone? I won’t know.”
I’d tapped my chest. “I’ll know. I can feel him right here.”
That had done the trick. Now, I waited for Nikolas, the Dokimasi a steady tug between my ribs. I’d spent days resentingit. Now, its presence was a welcome reminder that all was not lost. My quest continued. My connection to the sunstone remained intact.
Lamplight bloomed in windows across the street. I searched the forest beyond the buildings, worry for Helios tugging at me just as insistently as the Dokimasi. Although, maybe I shouldn’t have worried. Helios had proven himself to be resourceful. And he’d promised to stay close. If he was correct about shielding us from danger, we could probably relax for the night.
And resume searching for the sunstone in the morning. Except everything had changed. Despite Nikolas’s apology, I couldn’t just forget what had happened. He seemed sincere, but could I believe him? What if this was just another ruse to steal the stone?
On the other hand, what choice did I have? If I left, Dain and Nikolas would die. And if Dain died, I might lose my connection to the sunstone. For reasons I couldn’t begin to figure out, the Dokimasi had bound us together. We needed each other, and the magic didn’t appear to care whether I liked it.
The door opened behind me, and I turned as Nikolas backed into the room. Pivoting on the threshold, he balanced a tray laden with bread, wine, and three steaming bowls. The scent of cooked vegetables and roasted meat hit my nose, and my stomach released an angry growl.
Nikolas’s lips curved as he went to the room’s only other piece of furniture—a worn clothes chest carved with suns and flowers. “Sounds like I came back just in time.”
“I guess that makes two of us,” I murmured.
