CHAPTER EIGHT

He held her chin with a callused palm, no doubt toughened by fighting if his current dress and ease with weaponry was anything to go by. But the miracle of that first rough caress bewitched her. For the very first time in her memory, someone had touched her and lived to tell the tale.

Oh, she’d held Niamh’s hand through her gloves and embraced her amidst layers of protective clothing, but it wasn’t the same. Her wonder at that initial contact had been reflected in Cededa’s sublime features, in his awestruck declaration of dying.

They stood in that half embrace for several moments before he released her and put space between them. That white-washed stare consumed her, turning her knees to water. A sudden thought had sent a new fear jittering down her spine.

“I swear, I’m not lying.” She raised her gloved hands. “Were you a normal…” she flinched and corrected herself. “Were you any other man, you’d be dead.”

His mouth curved, and the fine lines at the corners of his eyes deepened. "I believe you."

Her shoulders slumped in relief. “Thank the gods,” she said and exhaled a stuttering breath. “I really don’t want you to kill me.”

His soft laughter, free of the harsh bitterness she’d heard earlier, washed over her, as beguiling and seductive as his touch. “I doubt that me killing you is Niamh’s idea of repaying the debt I owe her.”

Imogen smiled at his teasing. “No, I’m sure it isn’t.” She abandoned the smile for a frown. “I didn’t really believe her when she said you could break my curse. I only came so you could remove the key. Is it possible you can help me?”

“The key is a small matter. It’s my magic that put it there. I can remove it just as easily. Your curse, however, is something different. I’ve never seen the like, and in my lifetime that’s saying something.”

He reached out to touch her once more. Again, she backed away, and he lowered his arm. “Forgive me,” she said. “I am unused to another's touch.”

He shrugged, his bland expression saying he took no insult from her retreat. “I have an idea how to lift a death touch, but it will take time, and you’ll have to stay with me in Tineroth until the summer solstice.”

Imogen chewed her lower lip. She hadn’t expected this. Caution and disappointment warred with longing. She’d come with only the thought of Cededa removing the key. He offered her a glimmer of hope for a normal life. But that hope came with a price and a measure of trust in a fabled king who ruled a dead city.

Surrounded by an unnatural hush and decrepit palaces and shrines etched in moonlight, she wondered how difficult it might be to live within the confines of Tineroth’s decaying beauty. She looked to Cededa. His face revealed nothing of his thoughts. “How would I live? I’ve not seen nor heard any animals to hunt or fresh water to drink. My water supply is only enough to last another day.”