|Vynasha (Working Title)|
The candle’s trail led her to the first level of the castle and farther down the eastern end than she had traveled before. The gargoyles and columns gave way to narrower arches and stately doors. Even the tapestries, depicting the faces of beasts and winged women and men, of sea people and slithering, reptilian creatures, seemed clearer here. She soon realized this was because the trail was leading toward an open door ahead. The hall bent to the right and then she saw him, surrounded in a pool of white light that stretched past and obscured his shadow, until it dimly touched her feet.
“Beauty, I see you are wearing my gift,” the Prince growled out in a surprisingly soft voice and stretched out his hand towards her.
She slipped her black gloved hand in his without comment or question, though she very much wanted to know where he had been today. The Prince never came to her. She was brought to him, in the great hall where they had dined near every night of her imprisonment. That he occupied his time with books, she highly doubted. At times, during their conversations, he seemed to carry the knowledge of the earth with him.
Yet she recalled his mention of trouble, while he had left her to study his text on the Eirwen Mountains. And the thought came to her then, that if there were ruffians causing trouble, as he put it, on the borders of his land, perhaps they would be willing to help her?
But at what cost to Wyvar and Lyttia and Myrel?
Was she selfish enough to trade the lives of people who weren’t even solid, living beings, she pondered. Surely they would want gold or something the Prince was keeping hidden away in this castle.
“Something troubles you, Beauty,” the Prince said, while he pressed his hand to the metal guard past the door. A long arched tunnel, covered with twisting ropes of dead vines and thorns, carried the pathway further outside the castle.
“I am only weary, I suppose.” Vynasha tried to peer through the cracks for any glimpse of real sunlight. It had been so long since she had felt it directly on her skin, and she longed for the days she worked in Wynyth’s rose garden.
“Were you so worried over my well being, then?” He asked with a low rumble, and she realized he was laughing. Truthfully, she had not thought of him much at all the previous night. After his very direct proposal, she had only been able to see the renewed urgency of her escape, of finding her way to Ceddrych.