I glare at him. "Thanks. That clears everything right up."
Our boat turns, and the landscape changes once again. It's still cold, but not nearly the frigid weather of before. We are no longer surrounded by the ruggedly wild forests. Instead, we travel through a city full of tall buildings that look grown from stone and trees. A white marble tower blocks out one of the moons, green vines spiraling up from its base. Immaculate gardens adorn almost every dwelling, full of silver and purple flowers, their sweet aromas fresh on the wind. Everything looks smooth and polished: elegant symbols carved into the walls, delicate archways crossing over cobbled streets. This time I do see an occasional person walking around, alone or with one or two others. It's late, but the city is lit with light from glowing blue orbs that seems to hover in the air. "What is this place?" I ask.
The prince smiles, and for the first time it seems to be with genuine pleasure. "This is my realm. Beautiful, isn't it?"
"Very," I say honestly.
"It is my pride," he says, then laughs. "After all, I am the Prince of Pride."
I can't help but laugh with him at his own stupid humor, and for a moment we share in a very normal camaraderie of two people enjoying something lovely together.
"My location is less than optimal," he says, "placed between the wild lands of War and the dreariness of Envy. Honestly, he really needs to do something with his life. His land could be beautiful, in its own way. It's heavy with red clay that bleeds like blood into the snow in winter, and he gets the most dreadful storms, but the rock formations that litter his coast lines are actually quite dramatic and stunning, if paired with the right architecture. Unfortunately, he has no eye for design and thus his realm languishes under his artless care." His voice is full of dramatic despondency, like a petulant child who didn't get his choice of toy for the holiday. "You'll see what I mean soon enough. We're almost there."
The canal twists to the right and our boat magically follows. As we turn, the trees become more dispersed, and instead the water is framed by pillars of rock and stone, slate grey and weathered by time and the elements. Our boat lurches and comes to a sudden stop, sending me spiraling forward into Asher, who catches me in his arms.
"No need to throw yourself at me just yet," he says with a smirk. "We'll have our time together soon enough."
I roll my eyes and shove away from him. "Cute." We still aren't moving, but I can't see what caused us to stop. "Did the magic fail?" I ask.
He shakes his head. "Not possible." His face loses its chronic arrogance and falls into a look of real concern as his eyes scan the canal. He dips his hand into the water, deep enough that his sleeve becomes wet. "There's a felled tree at the bottom blocking the boat," he says, pulling his hand out. "We need to move it before we can continue."
"I assume this is where magic comes in handy?"
He chuckles humorously. "It would be, if either of us could wield it. Unfortunately, we'll have to do things the old fashioned way."
"Bet you're glad we dressed for this party now, aren't you?" I wink at him as the boat glides to the banks.
He stands and steps out carefully, then offers his hand. "Cloth can be cleaned. It is not of consequence."
"Right." I can tell he hates this, and that somehow makes my discomfort more bearable. I'd give anything to be in jeans right now. My white dress remains mostly unscathed as I climb out of the boat and stand in front of a giant slab of grey stone, but my shoes don't fare as well sinking into the muck on the edge of the canal. I give up and take them off, tossing them back into the boat so I can walk barefoot.
Asher looks ready to argue, but I hold up a hand. "You want to trade shoes? No? Then shove it."
He makes the smart choice, and his mouth snaps closed. He leans over to pull the boat out of the water and over the fallen tree. I'm about to offer to help lift, but...
He doesn't need my help. Somehow, Asher manages to lift the whole boat by himself. His muscles bulge under his clothes, but his face shows no sign of the effort it must take to lift something that heavy.
He's placing it back in the water on the other side of the tree, when I hear a branch snap.
I start to spin, but I'm too slow.
Someone grabs me from behind, covering my mouth with a cloth so I can't scream. I bite instead, and the hand loosens, but only for a moment. The arms around me tighten, and though I try my hardest, I can't push them away. I struggle anyways, unwilling to make myself an easier target than I already am.
There's something on the cloth over my mouth, a chemical smell, and it makes me light headed.
Someone is trying to kidnap me. Someone followed me here.