Free The Golden Apple by Michelle Diener

with every step as the enchantment made its displeasure known, her hands clenched in fists to stop them shaking.
    A flicker of light to her right slowed her feet, and wild magic was suddenly in front of her on the path. Blocking her way.
    She could not make a sound, her heart stuttering in her chest, her ears ringing. She could do nothing but stare.
    It rose up, stretching itself, forming a huge oval, like the cheval mirror in the corner of her room in Gaynor Castle.
    The green-purple light flickered and thinned, but she could not see through it to the forest beyond. Instead, she was looking into some other place, like a pool reflecting back a different reality.
    She leant forward and made out a stone staircase, rising upward, a single sconce lighting the way.
    Then she heard a sound. Not from the forest, but from within the image before her—footsteps, coming down the stairs. The tread was quick, energetic. Masculine.
    Fear gripped her. She had a terrible sense whoever was coming would see her. Would be able to step out of the magic into the forest with her.
    She moved back, but the wild magic moved with her.
    “No,” she whispered. But instead of obeying her, like it had before, it moved again, straight at her.
    For a moment there was a strange sense of nausea, a sparkle of light around her.
    Then Kayla shivered.
    She was standing at the bottom of the steps in an icy, dark chamber, the smell of cold, damp stone filling her nose. And the footsteps were coming closer.
    She spun around. The oval shimmered, an open window back to the forest in the otherwise impenetrable darkness of the room. Through the wavering light she saw the trees, the path. And though every step she’d taken in the forest had been one of fear, she wanted nothing more than to fling herself through the strange doorway, back to the familiar.
    The footsteps behind her stopped, and she turned slowly, her pulse thundering in her ears.
    Eric the Bold stared at her, the shock on his face so clear, so sharp, she knew for certain he had nothing to do with this strange doorway between the forest and himself.
    He made a noise, a gurgle, as if trying to speak, and then shook his head, cleared his throat. “What are you doing here?”
    “Where am I?”
    “My stronghold. In my dungeons.”
    She thought he would step closer, but he did not, staying on the second last step. His eyes flicked from the wild magic, back to her.
    “I wonder why it brought me here?” Kayla reached out a hand, casually, as if making nothing more than a gesture, and her hand slipped through the curtain of light. She could feel the warmer air of the forest on the back of her hand, the gentle stroke of the wind. Would it let her back through?
    “It…brought you?” Eric scowled.
    “I certainly didn’t have anything to do with it.” Kayla turned back to him, drawing herself up.
    “That is very interesting. I wonder…” Eric extended a hand, as if she should take it. Come closer to him.
    She did not move.
    Fast as the viper he was, he stepped forward and grabbed her wrist, jerking her back with him to the stairs. He held her close, close enough for her to smell the curious mix of herbs and wood smoke on him. But underlying it all, there was something else. The cold, sour smell of deep, dark places.
    Kayla looked down at where his hand manacled her wrist, and then up at his face.
    There was a flush of color on his cheeks, and he was breathing hard. “Perhaps you were thinking of me, hmm? Perhaps that’s why you are here?”
    Kayla jerked her arm, hard. “No.”
    “I have certainly been thinking of you.” Eric tightened his grip, lifted his other hand and stroked her cheek.
    Kayla flinched back.
    “Not saving yourself for De’Villier, are you?” Eric smiled. “The heroic savior who was only after the apple, not the princess.”
    Kayla went still.
    “I know about you, Kayla of Gaynor.” Eric’s words were sly. “I know the secret your father tried so hard to hide. My only