up to my waist. My hand trailed through the rose petals and everywhere I touched the white petals turned a dark, dark red. Ripples of color spread outward from my body.
I could hear the soft murmurs of water behind me as Eliot followed me down into the baths.
"Don't look back," he said. "Whatever you do, don't look back."
One more step, and my chest was submerged. This was as deep as the baths went, but as I looked forward and saw the white petals transforming, turning red, panic seized me. My chest seemed compressed, unable to draw enough air. My feet slid across the bottom of the pool, the tile slippery, and for a moment I was so dizzy that I fell forward, losing my balance. I thought that I would drown.
"Eliot!" I caught my balance, my arms spread out in the rose petals which were now almost all red.
"It's alright," I heard him say, but his voice was farther away than before.
"Eliot!" His name echoed off of the walls of the baths, ringing again in my ears, calling out. I couldn't stay in the water without him. I needed him, I needed him there—
"ELIOT!"
My hands splashed the rose petals as I spun around to hold onto him. My prince. My protector.
He was gone. The light of the torches grew dim, and I could hear a whisper of his voice trailing away through the cavernous baths.
"Farewell, " he said.
I raised my hands up to reach out, and saw that they were covered in blood. I looked down. The bathwater around me had turned to blood, the rose petals awash in dark scarlet. I screamed. Hands thrashing, I tried to move backwards, to get out of the baths, but the steps seemed no nearer as I splashed through the red petals.
"Don't look back," I heard the whisper say, and then the bottom of the baths fell away from under my feet. I was drowning, drowning—
I woke up panting, my fingers clutching the sheets damply. Beside me, Eliot slept on. I rolled to his side and held on to him, and he put his arm around me sleepily, drawing me close.
"Don't leave me," I whispered, so softly that he couldn't hear it even in his dreams.
It's easy to slay dragons. It's harder when they're in your mind. If I was living in a fairy tale, why were my nights filled with terror?
Eliot held me every night as though he wanted to make love to me. I reached out to him but pulled back always before temptation could overcome me, although I was not sure what I was afraid of. We had slept together already, many times. The first time after the attack was my first time, and Eliot made it gentle. The time after, I thought things would be different, but still he held me delicately, as though I were a rare orchid he had transported from its warm environment. Opening my petals softly.
When I retreated away from him, though, he made no attempt to keep me in his bed. His tenderness both comforted and alarmed me. Could the passion between us have been taken away so easily? I grew frightened to tempt him, for fear that he would not even notice me. I still had secrets and so did he, and those secrets, ugly and worming, slipped into the space between us.
Now every night in this Hungarian castle was filled with nightmares of my mother's death, of Clare's death, of my own. Filled with blood and pain. Even Eliot's arms could not keep away the bad dreams. I was living like a princess. An enchanted castle. A handsome prince. How could I not be grateful? And yet, I knew in my heart that I was no princess, that if Eliot tried to fit a glass slipper onto my foot it would be the wrong size, that I was only pretending. I was holding a mask up to my face that was beginning to slip, and soon everyone would know the truth, if they didn't know already. Eliot would know the truth, and he would cast me aside like any other young stupid girl who wanted more than she deserved.
So I held my secrets close to my heart, and when the dragons breathed fire down my neck I clenched my teeth and tried to forget that I wasn't happy.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Eliot
“Let us grant
I could hear the soft murmurs of water behind me as Eliot followed me down into the baths.
"Don't look back," he said. "Whatever you do, don't look back."
One more step, and my chest was submerged. This was as deep as the baths went, but as I looked forward and saw the white petals transforming, turning red, panic seized me. My chest seemed compressed, unable to draw enough air. My feet slid across the bottom of the pool, the tile slippery, and for a moment I was so dizzy that I fell forward, losing my balance. I thought that I would drown.
"Eliot!" I caught my balance, my arms spread out in the rose petals which were now almost all red.
"It's alright," I heard him say, but his voice was farther away than before.
"Eliot!" His name echoed off of the walls of the baths, ringing again in my ears, calling out. I couldn't stay in the water without him. I needed him, I needed him there—
"ELIOT!"
My hands splashed the rose petals as I spun around to hold onto him. My prince. My protector.
He was gone. The light of the torches grew dim, and I could hear a whisper of his voice trailing away through the cavernous baths.
"Farewell, " he said.
I raised my hands up to reach out, and saw that they were covered in blood. I looked down. The bathwater around me had turned to blood, the rose petals awash in dark scarlet. I screamed. Hands thrashing, I tried to move backwards, to get out of the baths, but the steps seemed no nearer as I splashed through the red petals.
"Don't look back," I heard the whisper say, and then the bottom of the baths fell away from under my feet. I was drowning, drowning—
I woke up panting, my fingers clutching the sheets damply. Beside me, Eliot slept on. I rolled to his side and held on to him, and he put his arm around me sleepily, drawing me close.
"Don't leave me," I whispered, so softly that he couldn't hear it even in his dreams.
It's easy to slay dragons. It's harder when they're in your mind. If I was living in a fairy tale, why were my nights filled with terror?
Eliot held me every night as though he wanted to make love to me. I reached out to him but pulled back always before temptation could overcome me, although I was not sure what I was afraid of. We had slept together already, many times. The first time after the attack was my first time, and Eliot made it gentle. The time after, I thought things would be different, but still he held me delicately, as though I were a rare orchid he had transported from its warm environment. Opening my petals softly.
When I retreated away from him, though, he made no attempt to keep me in his bed. His tenderness both comforted and alarmed me. Could the passion between us have been taken away so easily? I grew frightened to tempt him, for fear that he would not even notice me. I still had secrets and so did he, and those secrets, ugly and worming, slipped into the space between us.
Now every night in this Hungarian castle was filled with nightmares of my mother's death, of Clare's death, of my own. Filled with blood and pain. Even Eliot's arms could not keep away the bad dreams. I was living like a princess. An enchanted castle. A handsome prince. How could I not be grateful? And yet, I knew in my heart that I was no princess, that if Eliot tried to fit a glass slipper onto my foot it would be the wrong size, that I was only pretending. I was holding a mask up to my face that was beginning to slip, and soon everyone would know the truth, if they didn't know already. Eliot would know the truth, and he would cast me aside like any other young stupid girl who wanted more than she deserved.
So I held my secrets close to my heart, and when the dragons breathed fire down my neck I clenched my teeth and tried to forget that I wasn't happy.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Eliot
“Let us grant
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