I ran along the shore. Looked back. He was still at the door. I ran farther. Judging by the sun, it was just past noon. There had to be people on this island. I was willing to find them and pay whatever it took to leave.
I walked for hours without rest. I saw no trace of civilization. I was thirsty, and the heat was more intense than I expected. My dress didn't help. I lifted the hem and dipped my feet in the water. The scenery was beautiful. Like a dream... if it weren't for everything else. But something was off. Every now and then, I thought I saw footprints in the sand that weren't mine—marks too deep, almost circular, as if someone—or something—had passed before me. When I blinked, they disappeared, as if erased by the wind. And even though there wasn't a soul in sight, I couldn't shake the feeling that the island was watching me.
Then I saw it: between the rocks, far away, a still silhouette. For a second, I could swear it was staring at me, but when I blinked, it was gone. Only the tide remained. I wrapped my arms around myself. I didn't want to admit it, but I felt it—this island was different.
A moment later, I laughed to myself. Maybe the heat and thirst were making me hallucinate.
Minutes passed when finally I saw a figure on horseback in the distance. It was approaching from the opposite direction. Another mirage? I thought. When it got closer, the sun revealed his face.
It was Lord Declan.
My look of disdain amused him for a split second.
—I'm proud. You almost circled the island. One more hour and you would've reached the village. You went in the opposite direction of where everything happens —he said with that irritating calm—. Sereniah, you can throw all the tantrums you want, but without my approval you won't be able to leave the island. Maybe you would like to listen.
—Do I have another option?
—Of course. You can keep walking, talk to everyone on the island, try to bribe whoever you can—and fail. Or you can get on the horse, go back, take a bath, and talk. You must be tired.
He handed me a canteen of water. He smiled, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. He got off the horse.
—At least you're not another mirage.
—What? —he asked curiously.
I started drinking the water, unwilling to talk more than I had to. He pretended not to care and changed the subject.
—Shall we? —he asked, offering me his hand.
I gestured that I could manage on my own. I climbed onto the horse easily. I didn't want to touch him. His beauty was already intimidating enough.
I felt strange. A tingling spread through my body, especially in my hands and legs. The heat? The tea? Him?
—Lean a little forward to give me space —he said.
—What? Aren't you walking?
He smiled again, without warmth.
—Another time I'd let you ride alone, but night will fall soon. And even though this is my island, I don't control everything that happens on it. I'd rather not ride in the dark.
He climbed onto the horse, wrapped his arms around my waist, pressed his chest against my back, and with absolute calm, whispered in my ear:
—Relax, spoiled princess. Don't think I'm dying to put my hands on you.
A shiver ran down my spine. My skin broke into goosebumps. I wanted to pull away, to scream at him to let me go, but my body wouldn't obey. The warmth of his arms was both an insult and a trap. My mind repeated get away, but my muscles seemed ready to surrender to his nearness. What was happening to me? Was it the tea or ...?
We rode toward the sunset on a black horse straight out of a fantasy book. His long hair nearly touched the sand. It was spectacular.
—Do you like him? He's been with me since he was born. His name is Ozyrion.
It was as if he had read my mind. Or maybe I was just obvious. But... he couldn't see my face.
I pretended indifference as I answered:
—I suppose some people might find him pretty.
The horse neighed.
What?
Lord Declan let out a small laugh.
—Seems Ozzy didn't like your comment.
—The horse didn't understand me, My Lord. Right? —I asked, uncertain.
—My Lord... —he whispered against my ear—. I like how that sounds —he said, and I felt him smile behind me.
I froze, my cheeks on fire. I hadn't thought before speaking. I didn't say another word the entire way back.
The ride passed in heavy silence. I tried to focus on anything other than his arms around me. But it wasn't easy; there was something about his scent that was intoxicating. I could almost taste it. Maybe it was the lingering effect of whatever they gave me. The thought irritated me, and I shifted uncomfortably.
—We're almost there —he said, responding to my restless movements.
I just nodded. Fighting him on horseback at night wasn't smart, no matter how angry I was. I took a deep breath and tried to relax a little. We're almost there, I told myself.
A few minutes later, I began to see small lights and houses embedded in the rock, stone pathways that started at the beach and stretched into the forest. We had reached the village. I couldn't see much, but the houses looked strange—a mix of old architecture with surprisingly modern touches. I shuddered at the feeling that the few faces I saw in the windows stared at me too long, as if they were measuring something in me. Their eyes shone strangely in the torchlight.
The stars were shining like never before. Maybe all islands were like this; I'd never been to one. But if this was the reason people moved here, it was well justified. I stared at the stars for a long while, lost in their beauty, and didn't notice we had already passed the village and were in front of a house, set apart from the others. I was exhausted.
—We're here —he announced as he dismounted, extending a hand to help me down.
—I can manage —I replied disdainfully.
He simply made a polite gesture, as if to say "as you wish".
To my shame, I tried to get off the horse with the agility and grace of a professional, but my dress caught on one of the reins and I fell face first. His reflexes saved me before I hit the ground.
For an eternal second, we stayed nose to nose.
It felt as if a magnetic force pulled me toward him, as if every pore of my skin wanted to fuse with his. It was hard to explain. My skin felt like thousands of energy channels, all leading to him.
What the hell does this mean? I thought.
He held my gaze for a few seconds, then looked away. One hand still held my hips, while the other freed my dress from the reins.
Ow! I liked that dress, I complained inwardly.
Then, gently, he set me down on the sand.
He took a deep breath, and for an instant, the pain in his eyes was so clear it hurt. As if he too were trapped. He looked away, distant. He was hiding something—obviously. Sadness lined his face, along with something else. Finally, as we walked to the door, a sharp thought crossed my mind: Maybe the worst part wasn't being trapped on the island. Maybe the worst part was that something in me didn't want to run.
—There should be a hot bath ready for you —he finally said, interrupting my thoughts—. We can talk tomorrow, if you're too tired.
—I'm hungry —I replied with a grimace. I didn't even think; my mouth spoke on its own.
He let out a small laugh, maybe surprised by my response, and murmured something in a language I had never heard before. I decided to ignore it. I lifted my gaze, confused. He met my eyes.
—All right, I'll tell Mrs. M to have something prepared for you.
—Who's Mrs. M?
—She runs the household and is my most trusted assistant —he paused—. Do you want to eat alone or with me?
—I'm not so uncivilized that I can't have dinner with my kidnapper —I said, looking at him coldly.
The chill in his eyes overpowered mine completely.
—Says the "civilized" woman who went barefoot into nowhere without listening to any explanation. —Cold, sharp answer.
—Well, then we're even. You're a kidnapper, and I'm just more adventurous than most —I joked.
—Fine. Dinner is at eight o'clock sharp. See you in a while.
He started walking toward the door, then turned, as if he wanted to say a thousand things. He took a breath and finally said:
—I know you're angry, and you have every right to be. Your father didn't leave me many options; he believed he was doing the best he could. Please, keep an open mind.
"The best he could," I repeated in my head. My father, in the end, hadn't known what to do with me, and this had perhaps been a desperate way of "helping."
And yet, as I glanced sideways at Declan, I had the strange feeling that he too was a prisoner of a fate neither of us had chosen.
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