Page 71 of Castle of the Cursed
Brought together. I hate how much I love the sound of that.
I nod in assent, but I can’t imagine any reason in any universe that would require bringing me together with el Príncipe de Hierro.
“I will gather some dinner for you,” he says.
“No—I want to get up. I’ll come with you.”
He’s patient with my slow movements, and when we get to the kitchen, I heat up some paella that was given to me at Felipe’s. Then I slide onto the countertop and start eating.
“I do not think I have ever seen you eat this much, or this heartily,” he says, sounding pleased as I devour the food.
“That’s because you didn’t see me this morning,” I say, covering my mouth as I finish chewing. “I was like a wild animal foraging for food in the fridge.”
Parched, I take a drink of the water he set down for me. When I finish, Sebastián collects everything, and I slide off the counter. The dishes are clean in seconds, and it’s quite breathtaking to watch.
Even with a full belly, a biting chill seeps under my skin, and I turn around to see if a window is open. Yet it’s not the weather without that’s icy, but the climate within.
My parents are gone, Beatríz is gone, Felipe is gone, and, soon, Sebastián will be gone. After all, he’s a future king.
My curse is to be alone.
Sebastián comes over and inspects my face. I wish he would slide a finger under my chin and tip my mouth back to meet his, like in the movies—but he keeps a buffer of space between us.
“You are not alone,” he whispers, and I’m reminded of the first words Lety spoke to me.
“Everyone abandons me,” I breathe, wincing because it’s true. “You will, too.” Everything about Sebastián lures me in. His moonlight gaze, his starry musk, his chiseled features…
He keeps staring at me, like he’s processing what I’ve said, and I hate that he doesn’t jump to deny it.
“Estela.”
The way he says my name makes my knees weak.
“These new feelings you awaken in me are more terrifying than not knowing who I am.”
I’m not sure I heard him right.
“I may not remember my past, but I do know that the delicate things of this world, like flowers, do not grow where I am from. We do not have a word that is the equivalent to nurture. I am certain I have never kept anything alive, for I am a creature designed for death.
“Yet last night, when you left to the woods, I fell into a dark mood that was not borne of greed or rage or bloodthirst, but fear. I was powerless to protect you… my favorite flower.”
Sebastián seems to be stripping himself of armor as he speaks, and I can’t even think.
“It was not until I found you alive and asleep that my fear abated,” he goes on, “and a new sensation swept over me. All at once, I felt relieved, content, and safe.”
“You care,” I say, bewildered. “For me.” My high pitch of disbelief is almost comical.
“This caring,” says Sebastián, dipping his head so we’re eye to eye, “it feels connected to something greater. A force stronger than any magic.”
I nod. “It leads to love.”
“Love,” he repeats. “May I try something that will require touching you?”
“Um, sure.”
He opens his arms and moves toward me, then he links his hands around my back, embracing me. Resting my head against his chest, I hear crickets and owls and the ocean’s surf.
We don’t speak as he holds me. The longer we hug, the more my stiff joints loosen, until even breathing feels easier than it has in a long time.
