His rising erection poked out. Hastily, Erick pulled his robe closed to hide desire he'd probably never admit to. He panted, "How did Violet reach that window?"

"A spell of some sort. I don't know. I wasn't paying attention." Eleanor shut her notebook and pushed herself up. Flashes circled her vision and she leaned against the wall. Earth, she'd used too much energy on that invisibility spell. She'd never bent light for so long.

Phil appeared behind Erick and sternly examined her. He knew. Oh no.

Eleanor stammered out her lies. "I know. It's too cold for me to be down here but I couldn't sleep and figured I'd add to my sketchbook." She averted her eyes as she tried to push past.

But Uncle Phil blocked the door. He held a fairytale book in front of her and flipped it open to her favorite childhood story. Violet Glass.

He remembered that? She hadn't even remembered. "I thought I made it up. I don't know who Erick's girl of the week is. I just couldn't resist." She forced her mouth to curl up in a demonic grin but her lips twitched.

Erick snatched the book and glared at her. Did he believe Phil?

Her chest lifted and her gut twisted in a confusing tangle of emotions. For a brief moment she wanted him to believe.

"I've been calling her Violet all night and you made it up?" Erick pushed her against the wall, hand between her breasts, teeth bared.

She wished his touch didn't quicken her breath. Earth, she hated him. "She is Violet." Phil pushed Erick's hand away.

Eleanor tried to laugh but it sounded like a sob. How could her uncle do this to her, in front of him? They'd had an unspoken agreement to hide each other's secrets. "Shouldn't you be with your girlfriend, Uncle?" She didn't want to do this. Should I tell?

Nostrils flared, Phil stared her down as if she weren't his niece, as if she were a disposable stranger.

It hurt to breathe. Her whole body felt as if it had been crushed into a tiny box that had been thrown on the floor.

"Look at the blood on her dress, on her hands and in her hair." Eleanor blurted, "I fell. It's dark in here."

"She isn't her," Erick said, gaze fixed on the window. He strode past Eleanor. "What girlfriend?" he mumbled.

Eleanor covered her mouth to hold back a sob. In the brief distraction, she slipped past Phil, away from Erick.

December 24, 9544 AR

Valetta, Biston

Eleanor murmured elven curses, having pressed too deeply into the mortar of a miniature castle. "Don't you ever knock?" She glanced up at her friend's excited face.

"He's looking for you. Everyone's talking about it. I heard there's even a reward for bringing you to him."

Eleanor's stomach fluttered and she wished it was from fear. "Why? For a meaningless fuck?"

"He's smitten, I've heard."

Eleanor groaned and straightened the wall of her model. "No, he's not." She selected another rock and pressed it into the mush.

"What if he asks you to marry him?"

Eleanor raised her brows at her friend's naivete. "And maybe gold will fall out of my butt. He'll never marry anyone. The only reason he's off searching for me is because he thinks I'm a maid, which to him means silent whore."

"You never know. You could become queen."

"Biston locks hybrid queens in towers and calls them demons. No thank you." "Anyway, your uncle wants you to come to breakfast."

"Tell him to fuck off."

"He said if you said that to tell you that your guards will have to drag you to breakfast."

Eleanor jerked her head back and narrowed her eyes.

"I'm just the messenger, Elle. But I don't see what the problem is either way. Your guards are..." Meagan grinned. "And I don't think they'd mind."

They'd enjoy it. The controlling, domineering jerks. If only she could alter their perceptions but her father had selected them for that immunity.

"Fine." Eleanor wiped her hands on a rag and tried to pick out the grime from under her fingernails.

"As if they'll notice. You could wear a moldy potato sack and they wouldn't care."

"I should." Eleanor ambled out and through the halls to the breakfast table where Uncle Phil waited.

She sat before her cold breakfast. "Where's your beloved?"

"Erick is searching the river banks for Violet."

Eleanor wanted to laugh, to ignore the tinge of hope that filled her lungs. "Why?" "Probably because you told him you do laundry in the morning."

"Where would you get that idea?" She scooped a cold bite of eggs into her mouth, to keep from smiling.

"Why didn't you tell him the truth?"

What difference would it make? "Is he waiting behind the door, ready to pop out if I say it was me? You know he wouldn't believe me even if it was true. Traitor."

The door opened as if on cue and Erick stomped through. His wavy hair fluffed out more wildly than usual, so tempting to her fidgety fingers. Pants wet up to his knees, a scowl on his chiseled face, he looked miserable. Muddy footprints trailed behind him. His ass bulged hard and tight in those pants and boots. Very nice.

Eleanor bit her lip and swallowed to prevent drool from dripping down her chin. Why did he have to be so damned sexy?

He slumped into his chair, dark gaze avoiding Phil's. "You were right. She wasn't there."

"I'm sure you'll find another concubine to fill your bed," Eleanor grumbled. "Are you this rude to everyone or just me?"

"Especially you."

"Why? Because I'm a whore? Have you ever kissed a man?"

Many and she wished they felt as good as him. "Does it matter?"

Phil groaned and stood up like a father forced to stop their bickering. He folded his napkin and rounded the table to stand behind Eleanor.

"What are you doing?" She twisted in her seat.

Phil tried to bring the folded napkin down over her eyes but she squirmed away. What is the matter with you?

"Look at her," he said to Erick. "Just truly look at her." He tried again to cover her eyes.

"Stop." Or I'll tell him.

Go ahead. Phil tossed the napkin on the table and left the room.

Face heated, eyes aglow, Eleanor pushed her chair back. But the words balled up in her throat, tethered by a heavy weight in her gut. All that came out was a squeak. She couldn't. Phil was her uncle. The one who'd read her fairytales and comforted her when there was no one else. Eleanor rose to go.

"Wait," Erick said. The way he glared at her made the weight in her stomach turn. He hated her.

"Don't worry. I'm not your fairytale lover," she muttered. "I know."

She wanted to dump her cold breakfast on his lap. Pride demanded she say something.

But he spoke first. "I invited a friend of yours to find her. He asked for you to be here."

"Who?"

Hands closed over her eyes. "Guess," a man's voice said.

Eleanor jerked away screaming and fell out of her chair. "Don't touch my face."

Bradley stood before her, thin brows arched. "Look at Miss Ellie all grown up." He smiled and tried to help her up but she evaded his grasp. The hybrid man had tortured her with spells and tricks throughout their childhood.

Now he looked at her with a totally different expression, as if they'd been lovers instead of enemies.

She pushed herself up and recoiled from him. "Stay away from me."

"Ouch." He clutched his chest in mock pain. To Erick, he said, "Your Majesty." Without bowing, he sat across from Eleanor. "I dreamed about you last night. How strange is that?"

Erick interrupted, straight to the point. "How much?"

Earth, could Bradley break past her blocks? Oh no. He'd see what Erick couldn't. Would Erick believe him?

"I'll do it for free if Eleanor will grant me the privilege of touching her cheek."

"No." Eleanor started toward the door but Erick caught her wrist. "I'm already bound," she snapped.

"To whom?" Erick asked darkly.

Jealousy? Doubtful. He didn't even realize he'd bound her. "You." She searched his eyes for something, anything but he didn't believe her.

Erick shoved her into her chair and recoiled from her arm. To Bradley, he said, "Be my guest."

"What? You can't pass me around for favors from other men. No." "He's just going to touch your cheek. Hardly passing you around." Bradley leaned back in his chair, suspicion fixed on her. "Are you bound?" "Yes."

"No," Erick said over her answer. "Do me this one favor. If you have any compassion, you'll do this for me, Eleanor. I love her."

"No you don't."

Bradley leaned forward and softly offered, "Ellie, you'll get my spells when you touch my face. It's not that bad. I promise it won't hurt. I've had a pretty good life."

"I haven't."

"Then it'll hurt me, not you. I'll chance it. Come on. Books and books of knowledge up here." Bradley tapped his temple.

Admittedly, she could use them to escape. Maybe this winter if he knew the spells to cross the frozen mountains. She might get to spend her New Year's Eve birthday in Gildon. That would be a nice present. "You can't tell anyone what you see and I go first."

"Of course." Bradley jumped up, grin on his face. He inhaled a deep breath as if trying to calm himself. "Okay. Where? Somewhere nice. Too cold outside. Maybe your room?" His gold eyes glinted.

"No," Erick growled. "Here's fine. Just a touch. That's it."

Maybe on some deeper level, he did feel jealousy. Too little, though.

She didn't want to do this. She'd heard it hurt after being bound. But she'd been just a kid. Maybe it hadn't fully taken. Obviously, since Erick felt practically nothing for her.

Bradley pulled a chair around to face her and hesitantly sat, leaning toward her. "Wait. Would you rather stand? No. Sitting's fine. He's not going to watch is he?" Bradley's face scrunched up at Erick who glowered, hunched over in his chair.

"She's my charge until her father returns." Yeah, great protector.

"A little sick," Bradley mumbled.

"It doesn't matter. You're not the one." But she forced her hand to Bradley's cheek anyway.

Sparks didn't burst, reserved only for fated elves and hybrids. Her breath didn't quicken. Revulsion turned her gut and threatened to squeeze out everything she'd eaten. She wanted to pull away but then golden light beamed from his eyes with memories she wished were hers. Laughter, smiles, love, everything a child should have, warmed her. Lessons from an adoring mother. Spells that flickered and grew to power she'd never known. They planted themselves in her mind. Earth, she could bend tree trunks and float on fog.

But the present rushed upon them. No spells to cross the snowy mountains but maybe enough to escape in spring.

His panting breath grew in her mind and his hand covered hers like a lover's. "Please tell me you like what you see," he rasped.

If only she did but his mischievous pranks, petty obsessions and purposeful cruelty smeared an ugly shade over everything else. "I'm sorry."

He shook his head, brow creased. "No. I smell you. Your pheromone. Ellie, you're mine." He pressed his palm to her cheek.

Eleanor winced at the rough force in her mind. Memories burst up and crashed against the inside of her skull. Memories she'd buried. Her betrayal. Bloody battles. Guilty murders. Fear. Desperate pleas. Her father's hatred. Erick's rejections. Her prison of ignorance. Waiting. Defeat. Loss. Each misery seared her insides. She silently wailed but he wouldn't stop. She couldn't pull away. Her body wouldn't move, locked in his touch.

At the end, she writhed and struggled for breath. Sobs filled her ears but they weren't hers. Legs weak, she couldn't rise.