Sold To The Cruel Prince

Aveline did not even look back.

Holding her breath and clutching her skirt, she fled as fast as her thin little legs would carry her, racing through the trees as though the forest itself had suddenly grown teeth. She did not stop until she reached the carriage.

There, she braced a trembling hand against the side of it and bent forward, panting so hard it was almost undignified.

Almost.

She tried waving herself calm with the other hand, but that only seemed to make the whole thing worse. Her chest rose and fell too quickly, her breathing refusing to settle, as though her body had decided to betray her on principle.

And then, just to deepen her misery, she heard footsteps behind her.

No.

That could not be good.

Was it Theron?

Her stomach dropped.

He was too sharp. He had figured out her hidden "bones" back in the tavern, after all. What if he had also figured out that it had been her peeking at him? What if her entire shameful little performance had been obvious from the start?

Aveline straightened and tried to run again.

She had barely managed a few steps before a voice caught her in place.

"Where are you running to now?"

She froze, and then slowly turned.

Theron stood there in the same wet clothes, the same infuriatingly composed expression, and somehow looked even more unfairly handsome for it. Aveline’s eyes betrayed her at once, traveling down and then up again before she could stop them. Her lips parted. She swallowed.

Then she forced her gaze back to his face with all the dignity she could manage. "Why are you wet?" she asked, too quickly.

Theron paused.

There was a beat of silence in which Aveline had absolutely no idea what he was thinking, which was always a dangerous sign.

"Did you see someone running away?" he asked at last.

Aveline’s heart thundered in her ears, but her expression remained perfectly blank.

"Run?" she repeated, blinking with innocent outrage. "Who?"

Theron scratched the back of his head.

The motion pulled his shirt apart a little further, revealing more of his chest beneath the cling of damp fabric, and the way the water still traced stubborn lines over his skin was frankly unfair to her already compromised condition.

Aveline gulped.

Theron’s gaze settled on her. "I think someone was peeping at me," he said.

Aveline’s mouth fell open. Her eyes widened too.

"What? Who would do such a thing?" she said, scandalized on behalf of imaginary justice. "Can’t a man get wet around here? I saw some women near the river. Maybe the women here are just very forward."

She stepped toward him before her courage could evaporate, and gave his back a quick shove as if she had every right in the world to be in charge of the situation.

Her fingers trembled at the feel of his soaked shirt beneath her palm. The damp fabric clung to hard muscle, warm beneath the morning chill, and the contact sent a tiny, traitorous shock straight through her hand.

She ignored it with all the discipline of a woman clearly losing a battle.

"Go change inside the carriage," she said briskly. "You are far too precious to be wandering around like this. Who knows what evil eyes might be watching you change?"

Somehow, she managed to push him inside.

Then she shut the carriage door with a decisive little thud, leaning against it at once as if her entire body had forgotten how to stand properly.

Aveline pressed a hand to her chest and tried to calm her breathing.

Then her eyes dropped to her own palm.

Again, that strange, thumping warmth spread through her chest and lower body, lingering with humiliating persistence.

She stamped her foot once, then again, as though that might shake the feeling loose.

"This is the worst," she muttered, scandalized all over again.

Inside the carriage, Theron watched through the curtain as Aveline stomped away on those small, furious feet of hers, her back stiff with outrage and her dignity hanging together by a thread.

His mouth curved, to a dangerous one.

He had felt her the moment she came near.

The way she hesitated. The way she stared. The way she lied with that adorably innocent face of hers, as though he would not notice the way her gaze had clung to him like a hand that did not yet know its own strength.

How could she be so blatant and so terribly naïve at the same time?

Theron’s eyes darkened with amusement.

So she had looked.

So she had wanted.

And then she had run.

His smirk widened, slow and wicked, as he leaned back against the seat and let the curtain fall from his fingers.

"How does that feel, hm, Little Hare?" he murmured under his breath, his voice low with satisfaction. "Only to see... and not touch?"

Outside, Aveline kept walking, still huffing to herself like a woman personally betrayed by the laws of heaven.

Theron’s expression warmed with something far more possessive than mockery.

Run all you want, he thought. Your eyes already betrayed you.

Yes.

Let her feel it for once.

Let her squirm a little.

It was only fair.

-----

Aveline could not keep still.

Her legs carried her without permission, and before she quite realized it, she had wandered back to the cages.

The monsters were waking now.

One by one, they stirred with low grunts and guttural growls, the sounds scraping against the stillness of morning. Aveline glanced around, expecting the knights to react, to turn, to scold her for coming too close. But none of them did.

They did not even look at her. That was strange. Very strange.

Still, she stepped closer.

Predatory beasts were supposed to sleep at dawn and hunt at night, were they not? That was what every tale and every warning had taught her. And yet these creatures slept when humans slept, waking with the sun as though they belonged to the same world as everyone else.

The thought unsettled her more than she wanted to admit.

Her attention drifted toward the rat-lizard creature again.

For some reason, she kept being drawn to it, despite every sensible instinct telling her to stay far away from anything with teeth like that.

The other creatures began to growl louder the moment she neared, their movements sharp and restless. But then the rat-lizard creature turned and snarled back at them, and at once the others fell silent.

Aveline blinked.

She looked around again, half expecting someone to have noticed. But the knights still behaved as though nothing at all was happening. They were pointedly not looking in her direction, which was somehow even more suspicious than if they had been staring.

Slowly, cautiously, she gathered her courage and moved closer.

This time, when she lifted her hand, the creature did not recoil.

Instead, it stepped forward and rested its head against the bars, almost... inviting her. As if it were giving her permission.

Aveline swallowed hard.

Her hand trembled as it hovered in the air.

Something nudged her forward. Curiosity, perhaps. Or that strange pull she could not explain. She closed her eyes tightly, as though shutting them might somehow make the whole thing less real, and lowered her hand onto the creature’s head.

The moment her fingers touched it, something shifted.

Aveline’s eyes flew open.

Her breath caught.

"You’re pregnant," she whispered.

The words came out before she could stop them.

At once, she snatched her hand back and stared at it, as though it might explain itself.

What was happening?

Why had the thought surfaced so suddenly, so clearly, as if it had not come from her at all?

Why did it feel... like the creature had spoken... and she had understood?