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Claude picked up a branch and swung it toward the blackbird. The bird took flight, soaring toward the canopy.
Sacha rushed forward to confiscate Claude’s new weapon.
Claude whirled to face him, turning his back to Dagmara, and Sacha crumbled to the ground. His massive body shook the earth as he landed. She couldn’t see Claude’s eyes, but she knew they were pure silver. She had heard what Claude said this time:
“Sleep.”
She had to stop this. He could terrorize the entire nearby village.
But how? If Claude turned on her and compelled her as well, she would collapse. If his compulsion magic worked on her, her secret would be exposed. Magic wasn’t supposed to work on other guardians. It wouldn’t work on the real Princess Magdalena.
“Princess!” Martine screamed.
The blackbird dove at Dagmara next, and she covered her face, remembering the way its talons seared across her cheek the last time. Then she saw the flames Claude was conjuring from his mind. Should she use a flash bomb? She couldn’t leave him alone, not with the villagers so close…not when he would never leave the castle again if his citizens saw him like this.
She had to end this somehow, and only one idea came to mind.
She raced forward, grabbing Claude by his arm. As he rotated, he swung the branch at her. Dagmara easily dodged, expecting that much, before she grabbed his face, closed her eyes, and pressed her lips to his.
She had kissed men before, so kissing her fake fiancé on a whim should have meant nothing to her. However, she wasn’t expecting her entire body to ignite, her stomach to turn inside out, and her breath to be taken away.
She heard a thud as the branch landed hard on the earth beside them. For a brief moment, Claude grabbed her by the hip and pulled her tight against him as he deepened the kiss. His tongue swooped inside her mouth and she let out a soft moan. Chills flooded her body, and she pulled him closer. Everything in the world seemed to vanish, and it was only him and her, their bodies against each other and their mouths unable to separate.
Then the king jerked away, releasing her as he backed up.
Dagmara felt as though he ripped something away from her. She faltered slightly, now feeling the fear return once more. When she met his gaze, she saw no more silver in his eyes.
He stared back at her in bewilderment, his mouth slightly agape. He was like a chiseled statue, his chest glistening with sweat.
Dagmara’s lips tingled, and her heart pounded furiously in her chest, having nothing to do with her health.
“Pierre, ready the carriages,” Claude said, his voice low. “Sabien, wake Sacha.”
Pierre scampered away, charging at lightning speed back up the hill. Sabien approached Sacha on the ground, but kept his gaze fixated on Dagmara.
“I’m sorry,” Dagmara said. “I didn’t know what else to do.”
“You shouldn’t be the one apologizing. I nearly took you out.”
She shrugged, knowing dodging the branch was the least of her concerns.
“This is what I was afraid of.”
“I know—”
“And you stayed,” Claude said, disbelief in every note of his voice. “You tried…to help me.”
Dagmara knew what everyone else usually did. On the balcony, they left him alone. The night of the engagement ball, they left him alone to fight for himself. Had no one truly stepped in before?
“I know you think I’m a Mad King—”
“I don’t know what to think anymore,” she blurted out.
“But I am,” he said, speaking no louder than a whisper. “I have had apparitions chasing me ever since the day my parents died.”
“I see the blackbird too.”
His expression shifted, his head inclining slightly. He took a step closer. “What?”
