Page 66 of The Princess Tied

Even as she sprinted with the others, Po recalled John’s words about seeing death in men’s eyes, and how Shades had wondered if these were simply different people, no matter what they looked like and the aforementioned tentacle mouths.

The first one had her shuddering. Ewww.

The tentacles were a foot long and there was blood leaking from a hole in the… person’s chest.

She whispered a prayer for them as she dashed by.

The six guards were sprawled from the doorway all the way inward, almost to where the coffin lay with the glass lid propped up. The interior of the tower was an open space, apart from the central well that held the spiraling staircase that she supposed went to the very top.

Her steps slowed. She’d been travelling with John for so long. Been without Xander. There’d been a vow, and their declarations of love and now, at the last step, doubt had seeded.

John had holstered his guns, and though his smile was grim, it was a smile.

She halted where she could only glimpse the body of the man inside.

“Is he okay?”

John shrugged, hands on the butts of his guns. “He breathes. I was hoping you might manage to wake him. They must have kept him asleep somehow.”

“Then…”

She stepped closer, felt her mouth spread slowly, up-curving into a hopeful smile, felt her heart attain that relieved glow that someone she needed to touch, to see, to feel with her, was alive. They had found him. Her eyes watered.

It was Xander. He seemed pink and healthy, though thinner. His clothes did smell musty but after weeks of travelling like this, she wasn’t going to mark him down for laundry problems.

Another step, and her hand grasped the edge of the coffin. Voice hushed, she spoke, almost fearing to wake him too suddenly, to damage his heart, to shock him… “Xander?” She feared something unpredictable and unknown to her.

Was this even the man she remembered?

“Xander?” Nothing still—no movement, apart from the rise and fall of his chest. She must give him time to recover. “He looks healthier than one might expect after all this time in here, in this horrid coffin. You’re right. He must have been wakened at times, and so…” She looked to John. “Have you searched for any drugs on these dead Thulians?”

Grimacing, she indicated the room and the bloodied bodies lying in grotesque arrangements on the ancient, blue-tiled floor. A few Thulians were tangled with each other. More than a few of their chests or heads exhibited gaping holes.

“We can, and I will, but I thought a swifter method might be…” He shrugged, eyebrows rising. “If it is true love then a kiss might work?”

As in the fairytale?

“John… You are serious? From me?” My goodness. “That would be altogether too fantastical.”

Yet she studied Xander’s face, his mouth, craving a kiss for some strange reason, now she’d thought about the idea.

“Is it not worth a try?” He took her hand and pulled her to where she could lean in and kiss Xander. “I want you to.”

And if it didn’t work? Oh phooey.

“Okay.” She leaned over Xander, noting the solid handsomeness of his square jaw and the fairness of his short hair, with that cute curl showing wherever it grew a little longer. And she stretched some more and leaned some more, until the edge caught her waist and she slid.

Mere fractions of air separated her mouth from his. Po looked at Xander for one more moment then she did what she really, really wished to, even though a sliver of dread remained to mock her.

What if he never woke? Why would her kiss work?

And yet, yet, a miracle, or magic, or something wonderful at any rate, happened. Xander stirred, his breathing deepened. She was sure his eyelids flickered.

The barest second after her lips had pressed to his, he shivered then began to kiss her back. His lips moved under hers. His arm crept up and pulled her closer. Po sighed and all of the tensions of the past days of travel and terror and whatever other t’s might fit the situation, fell away from her.

This was the perfect end to their adventure.

As they kept on kissing, she felt rather than saw him move his other arm to lever himself upward, bending at the waist. The kiss kept going.