Elyse Thomson

She was no more capable of being a hero than a fish was of flight. The only weapons she’d ever wielded were her wits and her pen. Anyone who claimed the pen mightier than the sword had never been asked to face down the Beast of Old holding naught but a quill and a pithy remark in their defence.

The next one who so much as breathes impolitely in her direction better hope they die at the beast’s hands, and not mine.”

“I’ll tell your sisters where you hide your favourite shoes!”

Phaedra gasped, truly horrified now.

“You bitch! You know they’d steal them all on principle!” Phaedra grimaced. “No, I won’t give in. Do your worst!”

“I’ll tell her you were the one who slathered the poison oak in your ex-fiancé’s clothes!”

“He deserved it for being a mouth-breather and nothing you say will make me leave you. And if you leave me here, I’ll… I’ll mislabel all your artefacts and contaminate the dig site!”

In my experience, the worst enemies are born in the guise of allies

was that a joke?”

“Not a very good one, if you’re asking.” He frowned.

“What did you do?”

“I took some of your pain.”

“Why? Why not just kill me? My family has hunted down your ilk since ancient times. And here you have me, helpless. Do you think this will prevent your death? That I’ll show mercy once I can walk again?”

She felt a belly laugh coming on. A tide of pain rose up, washing over her battered body.

“Fuck. Don’t make me laugh.”

“Doom and gloom only. Duly noted, Your Highness.”

She shouldn’t forget what he was, even if his smooth voice was the only thing that helped keep her mind off the pain.

“You don’t strike me as a coward.”

“Just a monster?”

We don’t have to be enemies!”

“What else is there?!” she shouted, heedless of the agony it brought her.

His face was a kaleidoscope of emotions. Fury. Resentment. Mortification. Vulnerability. Hope.

“Oh no. No, no, no. No!”

If their bond was not one of mortal enemies, destined to slay each other, that left only one other possibility.

She didn’t need him, even if she understood that loneliness. It only made her hate him all the more. How dare he make himself pitiable—make his sorrow hurt her heart? Why did that monster’s sorrow affect her at all? Was this some trick of his foul magic? Some ugly twist in the thread that bound them? Could she trust her feelings at all, now that she knew her fate? She’d hated him from the moment she’d seen him. He’d come into her life to steal the best part of it away. Now he refused to take care of the person she treasured the most.