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The homecoming celebration held in honor of Princess Faedrah is fraught with perilous frustration. Her nightmares have returned thricefold and, to her horror, a horrendous blight has spread like a plague throughout the kingdom. Compounding her worries, Rhys’ arrival in her world has been welcomed with the exact horror-filled reaction she expected. Her beloved has been cast into the dungeons, and no amount of arguing with the king and queen will prove he’s her fated love.
Magical powers were supposed to be a gift, or so Rhys McEleod had always believed. Too bad the second he landed in Faedrah’s world the legacy he inherited slammed into his body like a weight. He’s got zero control and his constant visions of Faedrah fighting an evil entity aren’t helping. At least her parents made the right decision and stuck him away someplace safe. Until he can figure out his next move, prove himself an ally and uncover the clues to stopping Faedrah’s nightmares, he’s got no choice but to wait…and learn exactly what he’s become.
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The queen rushed forward and grabbed Faedrah’s shoulder, prying her from Rhys’ chest. “Thank Helios, you’re all right.” She wrapped her daughter in a hug. “I feared the worst. My foolish, headstrong girl, I thought we’d lost…” Her voice cracked and she dissolved into tears, clamping a hand along the back of Faedrah’s head.
Rhys uncurled his fingers and shoved the blade away. Vaighn stumbled back, the handle still lodged in his hand, but this little standoff they had going wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.
“Denmar.” The king jerked his head toward Rhys and he sighed as the bald guy marched forward, a set of iron handcuffs dangling from his meaty hand.
They weren’t getting it. Rhys shook his head. A set of shackles? Come on, that was never gonna be enough.
“You as well, Fandorn.” The king strode forward and placed one hand on his wife’s back, the other circling Faedrah’s waist so he could pull both women into his arms. “Pending the decision of his fate, the son of Gaelleod will be our guest in the dungeons. Fortify his cell with a spell.”
Now they were talking. Relief lowered his shoulders and Rhys breathed a little easier. Until he could figure out what he was up against, they needed to beef up security around this joint.
“Then you imprison me as well, father.” Faedrah pushed out of her parents’ arms and held up her wrists at Rhys’ side. “Rhys saved my life. He deserves your punishment no more than I.”
Oh, for Christ’s sake. He rolled his eyes. The last place she was going was the creepy underbelly of the castle. Especially with him. If her dad didn’t make sure of it, he would.
“Aye, Faedrah.” The king’s eyes softened as he looked at his daughter. “Sparing you harm is the one thing which stays his execution.”
Rhys lifted his hands, the thick metal cooled his skin, and Faedrah flinched as Denmar snapped the locks home. She spun and her arms flew around Rhys’ neck, pulling him down until his cheeks were buried in the soft mass of her hair. “I will suffer every moment we are parted, my love. Your confinement will be swift, I swear it.”
God, if only he could pull her close and get lost in her kisses, forget who he was for even a few brief seconds. But pretending the iron cuffs could hold him was best. Safest.
“It’s all right,” he whispered. “I’ll figure this out.” He kissed her ear. “I’m not going anywhere.”
A pair of hands grabbed his shoulders and wrenched him out of her arms. Rhys turned, keeping their gazes locked as he was prodded toward the door.
He would go. He would be the ideal prisoner behind a set of iron bars. But only because doing so was in Faedrah’s best interest.
At least, for now…
Lowering his chin, he smiled.