Page 65 of The Mage and His Stolen Prince
“No, and he’s not going anywhere anytime soon.” Unless he could teleport out of handcuffs. Since they were Dad’s creation, I suspected they could contain a mage. Especially one who had exhausted himself to the point of illness.
Delilah sighed, a mix of relief and defeat. She plopped onto the couch and asked, “How much do you know?”
“That I’ve already lived through this stupid meeting three times, and he’s at the center of it.”
“Four,” she said, her expression serious for once. “We’ve been through this meetingfourtimes. The first time was just different than the rest.”
My brow furrowed as I considered her claim. When I’d woken up in my bedroom that first time, I wasn’t confused about not being inMisfortune. I was confused because I wasn’t … somewhere else.
The first time was harder to hold onto than the rest. Like it’d been erased and written over too many times. I remembered Wilde’s promise, the words I’d never said, but when I tried to remember where we had been, or what events led us there, it was a solid wall of fog.
“Who is he?” I demanded. “How did youreallymeet?”
Delilah pursed her lips. “He’s a mage, that part is true.”
I rolled my eyes. “The teleporting kind of tipped me off.”
“Well, he’s been trying to fix what he broke, but every time something goes wrong, he thinks he needs to start from scratch. Like if it isn’t perfect, it isn’t worth it.”
I remembered Delilah fighting with him before, calling him a coward. “He can reset time,” I said slowly. I’d guessed as much, I just hadn’t been sure he was doing iton purpose.
“Yes, and if he finds out I told you, he will reset it again, right back to the beginning.”
I did not want to wake up in my gods damned bedroom again. It’d been perfectly fine for the past twelve years of my life, but now it represented failure. “Is he even strong enough to reset time again? He’s wearing himself too thin. Forget ‘burning the candle from both ends’, he’s tossed the fucking candle straight into the fire.”
If Delilah still had her ears and tail, everything would have drooped in despair. “I don’t think he cares.”
“What could be so important?”
Another memory surfaced, Wilde’s own voice near my ear.Everything.
I slumped onto the couch next to Delilah and buried my face in my hands. How was I supposed to get to know him if he exhausted himself to death? “We have to stop him. He needs to learn to let things take their course.”
“I’m not sure we can.”
Fuck that.I would not allow that defeatist attitude. I jumped back to my feet.
Delilah had been reaching a comforting hand toward my shoulder. My sudden departure sent her sprawling face-down into the couch.
I strode toward Wilde’s room and slammed the door open. He shifted on the bed, mumbling sleepily, but even the noise didn’t wake him. One arm hung above his head, connected to the headboard by a pair of metal cuffs. The cuffs were completely seamless with no keyholes, but they each had a glyph carved into the side. I pressed my index finger against the symbol on the cuff wrapped around the headboard and whispered the command word. It sprung open and I caught it before it fell, wrapping it around my own wrist. It snapped closed, creating a seamless band.
“Try teleporting away from me now, motherfucker.”
A giggle came from behind me. Delilah stood in the doorway, watching the whole scene. Her mirth faded as she looked at Wilde’s slack, pale face. As we both realized that even being jostled and sworn at hadn’t woken him.
“I hope this works,” she whispered.
“Me too.” At least if he tried to run away again, we were bound together. For better or worse.
I lay down on the bed, getting comfortable since I would be there a while. The bed was big enough for two people, but the handcuffs required a certain closeness. As soon as I laid my head on the pillow, Wilde snugged against me, wrapping his free arm around my waist. A wandering hand slipped under my jacket. Poor circulation made him cold, and he’d naturally sought out the heat source that had plopped into his bed.
I grabbed the blanket and pulled it tight over him, tucking him in to keep him warm. Forcing my eyes closed, I tried to count sheep rather than the places where our bodies touched.
Wilde shifted again, slipping his leg between mine, his knee nudging a delicate part of me. Heat flooded my stomach and every muscle tensed. My eyes flew open, and I stared determinedly at the dark ceiling.Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, don’t—
A cold hand slid along my ribs until delicate fingertips brushed against a nipple.
“Are you doing this on purpose?” I demanded.
