“Ha. You showed yourself all garbed in gold with a crown. You wanted to enrage him, and look what it has brought us, and—”
“He would have done this had I appeared to him in rags.”
“—then you put him in a black wooden cage.”
“He would have done this even if I’d set him on a golden throne.”
“Humph.”
The prince wanted to throw back his head and howl his anger, his fear, but he knew he couldn’t. She w
as watching him. He had to stay in control, had to figure a way out of this. “Very well. You’re right, I was arrogant. I wanted to flatten him with my power. I should have known it was too easy. I should have known he had some complexity in him.”
She said, “Good. You finally admit it. That gold crown, though, it was really quite magnificent. Do you know, prince, your arrogance is something so deep inside you that you cannot control it.”
“I can control anything, dammit. Maybe I was arrogant on purpose.”
“Whatever the reason, it doesn’t matter. We are in this together.”
“Stop arguing with me. It does no good. We will get out of here.”
Brecia knew no one could see them because now that he had his wand, the prince could keep both of them invisible from everyone, Mawdoor included. Unless the prince got distracted—in which case they would suddenly appear and everyone would be able to see them.
“Prince, we are invisible.”
“Yes.”
“But I can’t see any of the old mortals. I don’t see anyone at all. Oh, God, the heat. It’s getting hot! What’s happening?”
Then she knew what was happening to him. She grabbed his hands, cupped them in both of hers. They were suddenly visible. No matter. She had to stop this.
The prince’s golden cloak was glistening strangely—no, now she saw the shadow of glowing flames billowing behind the rich golden cloth. The cloak was shimmering in the still air, and it was giving up great blasts of heat. The golden crown was gone, as was his wizard cap. If he still wore it, it would probably be burning on his head.
“Stop!” she yelled right in his face. “You must be calm, prince. You are turning this space into a fire.” She dropped his hands and slapped him, hard. Once, then again, and a third time. “Get hold of your rage! Listen to me. You must quiet down or we will die. We can figure this out.”
He quivered where he stood. He gulped in great quantities of air. He forced himself to step back from the edge. The heat grew less. His cloak hung loose again, cool to the touch. The air calmed, cooled.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m very sorry I lost control like that.”
“I probably would have lost control if you hadn’t,” she said, and lightly touched her fingertips to his sleeve. “We must find a way out of this bubble.”
They moved about their invisible prison, probing for weaknesses, plying their wands, but they could find nothing. The prince spoke incantations, old ones from before the early fires, chants so old they made her skin skitter with cold. Nothing happened. He fell silent. He looked at her.
It was her turn. She spoke every old incantation she knew, searched out ancient spells and balms, but nothing worked. The air didn’t move. They were still trapped.
Brecia watched his golden cloak fade into nothingness, and he was again garbed as he had been, in a tunic and leggings, clothes any mortal would wear.
She waited, but he fell silent again, and she knew he was not happy with his thoughts.
She said, “I want to try something.” She raised her wand, spoke softly, and there it was, her beautiful green cloak, inside the space with them. “I did it. I called the cloak, but I wasn’t sure it could come through the bubble.”
He said slowly, testing yet again the space that seemed clear as the open air but wasn’t, “Your cloak is filled with ancient magic, woven in through the millennia.” He ruminated on that a moment, then said, “There is something to this, Brecia. That was well done. A weakness, there is a weakness in this prison, and we must find a way to use it before Mawdoor burns us to ashes.”
“He doesn’t want to burn me to ashes, just you. He wants to wed me.”
“That seems to please you.”
She just shook her head at him, ignoring him, something he wasn’t at all used to. She was evidently thinking about something more important than his words to her. Before he could tell her what he thought they should do, she said, “His eyes, he’d done something to his eyes. That green—it was like an emerald with the life leached out of it.”