Saving the Stranger Prince (The Stranger Prince Series #2)

Chapter 11: The Promise.

"And before I blame someone else, I've got to save myself."
- Ed Sheeran, Save Myself.

♚

Edgar was too still. All of a sudden the room was too quiet. Lydia's words repeated themselves again and again in his mind, as he went through a million of the worst interpretations of those three words.

I'm the cure.

This was Lydia. Lydia who is the purest of the angels. How could she be linked to anything as dark as black magic?

"I did my research afterwards. Sneaking into the libraries, even going through the restricted section at our Royal Library. I was able to find out that the cure to a spell cast by black magic always feels pulled towards the victim of that spell."

She then looked beside her, at the figure of Adela lying on the bed, "This morning, my feet led me to her room. I found myself here without wanting to be. That was a part of what the spell and the cure's relation was. But..." She breathed out a long breath, "I heard Adela's voice in my head, Edgar."

"Impossible." Edgar breathed out, feeling like his knees would give up.

"The cure and the victim. Both of them have a complex spiritual connection, which I'm afraid I know nothing about. But it is there."

Edgar looked around the room then, feeling Lydia's eyes on him.

"So what now?" He said quietly, "How do you plan to cure her?"

"It's obvious." She whispered, "The victim needs a part of the cure. And I'm the cure."

"A part of you..."

"My blood. My blood would be her cure." Lydia nodded distantly.

Edgar sighed, "Look, Lydia. We still don't know it for sure. Maybe nothing like this exists-"

"Do you have anything better to try to wake her up?" Lydia snapped, her eyes still on Adela.

Edgar knew Lydia was right. He knew he would do anything just to get his sister back. So he nodded.

"Fine, then."

♚

Dammit, what had he been thinking?

He stood in the dark room, surrounded by his paintings as usual. His hands were on the table, palm flat on the surface. Without wanting to, he just kept replaying the memory of Katherine. She had been so near.

He could've let her do whatever she had to do. She could've saved herself without getting caught, but it had all been out of instincts for him. He knew his father caught him tangled with a woman every now and then, and this wouldn't have seemed odd to him.

But he hadn't wanted to do what he had. He hadn't wanted to get close to her, because he couldn't risk it.

Katherine was beautiful. The kind of beautiful that even Adela wasn't. Whenever he looked at her, he remembered her down in the dark dungeons.

How she defended herself and stood up to him every single time they had had an encounter. How he used to have a look inside the dungeon at night, watching her sleep peacefully.