ARWIN

  Excited, he pushed out with his foot. Yes, the stone could move. But not downward. It would have to be pulled up. But how? He had nothing to dig with, no tools. What he needed was some kind of cartoon toilet plunger that he could stick onto the stone and pull up with. At least, he could do so if his hands were free.

  Vainly examining his wrists, he couldn’t see where the spider silk gripped the wall. Strong as steel, it glued his arms into place. Wait — glued. Nothing dissolves glue better than human sweat. Could it do the same to spider silk's tackiness? Maybe if it was terror sweat, which he got every time giant spiders appeared…

  A sound caught his attention.

  Assuming the position he'd been left in, cross-legged on the floor, his ears strained, and he heard the regular click of high heels on stone coming towards him. Arwin’s heart lifted in hope.

  Soon enough, the cell’s portal opened. Warm orange flames burst into being in an outstretched palm, illuminating his visitor. A dark, very feminine figure stood in the warm light. The Enchantress coldly glared at him, her expression unexpectedly guarded rather than angry. "How do you like your new home? Temporary as it will be?"

  This caught Arwin by surprise. Why the change? In the throne room, she’d been villainously playful and very self-assured. What could have caused her feelings to shift so quickly? She wouldn't have come down here without a reason. And it didn't appear that she wanted to kill him all the faster. This might be the opportunity he needed to change their circumstances and perhaps even get a look at the castle interior in the hope of finding Epheria.

  Time. He needed time and freedom. He needed mercy and trust. He'd have to be diplomatic and get her to like him. "It's fine,” Arwin said of the cell. “Although I'm sure there are much nicer rooms. This is a castle, after all.” He smiled.

  She suspiciously eyed him. "Yes. There are." After a long moment's thought, she seemed to give in a bit. "It's a beautiful castle. So many — enchanting — things to see.” She raised her chin in challenge.

  “Consider me enchanted.”

  “Hmm. Are you, I wonder?” Some of that previous playful fire returned to her eyes. She stepped forward, flashing a sexy leg, and planted a beautiful foot in a lovely high-heeled shoe high between his legs.

  He swallowed.

  “I’m accustomed to getting what I want. And those who don’t give it to me need to be punished.” Her smile returned, just as evil as ever. With a wave of her hand, his bonds rose up the wall, lifting him from a seated to a standing position, his back pressed up against the cold stone.

  He found himself staring into her eyes. In those heels, she and he were almost on the same level. Again, that spark flashed between them, and he felt a natural chemistry he’d never known before. He felt the urge to talk, to play, to tease. It was such an unexpected reaction to an allegedly evil woman that any reply he might have made caught in his confusion and rendered him silent.

  She arched a brow at his lack of verbal response. “You’re just not that interested in me, are you? Still afraid?”

  “No! I am interested.”

  “Do you dislike smart women?”

  “Absolutely not. Love them.”

  “I doubt that.” Her bitter tone indicated this might be a habitual problem for her. Perhaps she’d had trouble finding the right in the past? She huffed. “Besides, didn’t you call me old?”

  "I'm sorry. I don’t think you look a day over…twenty-something? Our first meeting was sudden, and my abduction unpleasant. I was not myself. I apologize for being rude earlier." He tried to be humble while ignoring the fact that she had kidnapped him and imprisoned him. Well…maybe he needed to be humble as well, try to understand her point of view. Technically, perhaps he’d been trespassing. And she did seem threatened by killers and thieves on a regular basis, probably making her paranoid. If so, her reaction might not have been unwarranted?

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  She quietly studied him, clearly suspicious, perhaps trying to discern the truth of his words. "You’re sorry? Why should I believe you?"

  "Please, forgive me. I’m still in a state of shock and disbelief. I'm not from this world. I only just arrived. Until recently, I'd thought that magic and dragons and…and other stuff were just from people's imaginations. It's all a lot to deal with."

  She huffed. “You really must think I’m stupid to believe that I would fall for such nonsense. You’re no Drearian.”

  “I am Drearian! Very dreary. Downright dull. No magical ability at all.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  He mentally scrambled for some way to improve his situation. “Look, you’re an enchantress, right? A witch? You know magic. Can’t you use some kind of spell on me to figure out if I’m telling the truth?”

  “Such spells might be countered by other magic. Or anti-magic.”

  He sagged. How could he convince her?

  She studied him for a long moment. “Well, there is one way I might check to see if you really are not from this world.”

  He raised his head and looked up at her. “How?”

  “I suppose we could see if there are any magicons in your biology, any mutations that would prove that you are not a product of local evolution.”

  “Um, ok. How?”

  She looked thoughtful for a minute. Then she placed the globe of fire from her hand onto the wall, where it stuck and continued to light up the dungeon cell. “I’m going to take some blood.”

  He glanced at her hands. She didn’t seem to have a needle with her. Then she waved a finger, and he yelped in pain. He looked down at his forearm and watched as several millilitres of his blood neatly streamed into the air from a cut on his skin. Then the globule of blood rose into the air and stopped in front of the Enchantress’s face.

  She held her hands out and stared hard at the blood, her eyes roaming over and around it.

  He watched but couldn’t see anything happening. What was she doing? Was it something beyond his eyesight?

  She gave a little shake of her head and sighed. “Nothing.” She paused, then used a finger to wipe the blood from the air, scooping it into her mouth. She teased, “My, aren’t you delicious?”

  Arwin felt the rest of his blood, which was thankfully still in his body, turn cold.

  She savoured the blood on her tongue like it was fine wine, looking up to the ceiling as she analyzed the taste. “Your blood does have a lot of trace pollutants that I’ve never seen before, chemicals I’m not personally aware of. No magicons, but I think we need to dig deeper.”

  He warily looked at her. “How?”

  Her evil smile returned. “This is going to hurt.”

  “Why? What—argh!” Arwin cried out. From deep in his right thigh came the worst pain he’d ever felt. A cut appeared on his jeans and in his flesh. Then up from out of his leg rose what he assumed was a sample of his bone marrow.

  As with the blood, she held the sample up before her eyes and studied it in a way that Arwin couldn’t see. After a couple of minutes, she moved her hand to the side, and the sample dashed to the floor. A trace of uncertainty bloomed in her purple eyes.

  His leg throbbed, and he felt an involuntary tear slide down his cheek. That had really hurt.

  She bit her lower lip. The cruelty that had been on her face vanished, replaced by a look of regret. She knelt down and reached out to touch his leg.

  Arwin’s pain shrunk, then vanished. When she removed her hand, he was amazed to see his wound gone.

  She gave him a sideways glance. In a quiet voice, she said, “Sorry about that,” then stood.

  “It’s fine. I take it there’s no magic stuff in me?”

  “No. But, again, there are compounds that I’m not familiar with. Nor do I think it’s entirely healthy to be carrying some of them in your body. Heavy metal content is also quite high. Tell me: do the people where you come from have high rates of cancer?”

  “Well…I guess, yeah.”

  “Maybe stop living in a garbage dump? Because you’re probably going to die of cancer too.”

  “So, you’re not planning to kill me?”

  She gave a dramatic sigh. “I suppose not right this moment. Not for being an assassin or thief, anyway.”

  “Then, you know I’m not Heartstonian?”

  “It’s Heartfolk. And yes, I suppose I believe it now. Though I can’t imagine the portal being open to Drearia being a good thing.”

  He breathed deeply. “Thank goodness. Would you…let us go?”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t go that far.”

  Crud. He sighed without really meaning to, then promptly regretted it.

  She continued thoughtfully mock, “Hmmm. I’ve never experienced the company of anyone from your realm before. Despite the nature of your home world, you might be diverting dinner conversation for a night. I was looking forward to torturing you, tearing apart your body, and feeding it to my gremlins. But perhaps, just this once, I could be convinced to be — a little — forgiving."

  He perked up again. “To forgive is divine."

  She gazed at him in silence for a few appropriately silent moments, then seemed to come to a sound, yet soundless, decision. “Very well. If it's forgiveness you want, you can make your case for it at dinner and earn it.”

  Arwin gulped.

  The evil enchantress unpleasantly smiled. "Don't worry. We won't be eating you. Yet." She turned and sashayed her way out of the cell. A casual wave of her hand and his arms slipped free of the spider webbing on the wall.