slowly make my way over, I touch the Goddess mark on my wrist for assurance. She wouldn’t let me get hurt, and other than a gentle tingle over my skin, I get no other impression. Whatever this is, the Mother isn’t involved, and I can make my own choice regarding it. However, I do believe that if it was going to harm me, she would stop me, that I’m sure of.
Finally arriving at the fountain, I frown as it seems to shimmer. Reaching out, I gasp as my fingers suddenly disappear. I jerk my hand back, making a noise in my throat as they reappear. Raising my hand to my face, I examine them, turning them to see that they are, in fact, still there.
“I thought he was never going to leave.” The deep, accented voice comes out of nowhere, followed by a tanned, tattooed hand that seems to appear out of thin air, pulling me forward into the fountain. I close my eyes and instinctively hold my breath, preparing to get wet, except when I open them and see a smug-looking man watching me with a grin, I realise I’m bone dry. Gazing around, I can see the courtyard looks the same as it had just a moment ago, yet now this man has appeared before me. A sparkling out the corner of my eye has me turning, and I see a glowing square around the fountain we seem to be standing inside.
“It’s called a shield,” he informs me, and I spin to face him.
“Tor.” I’m not prepared for the rush of feelings that flood through me as I see him. Relief, fear, surprise, and many more I can’t quite put a name to. I run my eyes over him, checking that he’s not hurt. I can’t imagine their escape from the castle had been easy, nor his sneaking back in. However, other than a cut on his upper arm, he seems to be unscathed.
“You didn’t fight back.” He sounds angry, and as I meet his gaze, I frown at his expression—he is angry.
“What?” I demand with much more attitude than I would ever use with anyone else. I’m not sure what it is about this man, but he infuriates me, yet I can’t deny that I want to be around him.
“A floating hand appears and grabs you, yet you don’t fight back,” he points out, making it seem as if I made a poor decision. I don’t tell him I don’t actually know how to fight.
“Perhaps I knew it was you,” I counter, raising an eyebrow at him. He snuck into the castle, but instead of telling me why, he’s wasting time chastising me about not fighting him.
He makes a rude noise. “Yeah, okay, sure.” Sarcasm lines his words as he rolls his eyes. “Besides, I’m an outlaw. You’re breaking the law just by talking to me, that’s even more reason to fight me off.”
He’s right. If I get caught, then I will share the same fate as him. I want to ask what he’s doing here, but instead I cross my arms with more bravado than I feel.
“You’re not going to hurt me.” I sound confident, and I wish I felt that way. Instead of arguing with me further, or denying my statement, his eyes turn hard as he takes a step towards me.
“Who are you?” The question hits me like a ton of bricks, and for a few moments, I can only gape at him as I see the truth in his eyes. A cold chill runs over me. He knows.
I have to put him off, he can’t know the truth. Forcing a laugh, I turn away from him slightly so I can’t see his expression anymore.
“What do you mean? You know who I am. I’m Lady Clarissa.”
“I know that’s who you pretend to be. I saw you at the massacre. I know you don’t usually look like this.” He steps right up to me, so close his chest is almost touching my shoulder as he reaches up and tugs on one of my golden curls. “Why are you hiding your appearance?” he whispers, his breath brushing across my ear. My cheeks flush red at the intimacy of his actions, but I don’t step away like I think he expects me to. How do I answer him? He knows I’m not who I say I am, but why does it matter to him enough that he’s broken back into the castle to talk to me, risking