FIFTEEN
N estled between two rows of the king’s clothing, beautiful garments lined the far wall of the dim dressing chamber.
A candle in hand, I admired the array of browns, oranges, creams, and greens. Amid the flowing skirts and blouses that would be frowned upon at home in Nephryn was my emerald coat. I stared at it, then checked the empty pockets. After selecting a cream gown with short gossamer sleeves, a cinched satin bust, and pleated mustard skirts, I exited the narrow room.
The king’s gigantic-sized clothing—tunics, coats, cloaks, and pants that ranged from britches to fitted to loose—danced through my mind as I set the candle in a holder at the edge of the bathing pool.
So deep that half of it sank some feet below the gray-tiled floor, the pool contained steps to sit upon or use to climb out. A dish of colored soaps awaited at the wash basin. To my delight, someone had crafted a bar of lavender and mint. The memories accompanying the scent scattered imaginings of the king wearing loose linen pants.
Scrubbing viciously at my skin with a flower-embroidered cloth, I surmised such a brutish male seldom made time to lounge around anyway.
The rain remained, tapping at the three slim windows standing tall beside the pool. The one in the middle contained a stained depiction of a white crown, wings on either side with steep tips that branched into the mist. A replica of the Ashbone insignia—a crown of bones and emeralds between monstrous wings and spiraling shadows.
Momentarily, I sat stunned, unable to believe what I was staring at. Unable to fathom where I was.
With a sudsy hand, I pushed the nearest window open to let the steam out. The hinges squeaked, then humid air and the grumble of distant thunder crawled into the dark bathing room.
I peered around but found no sign of moving shadows. A small mercy in this unmerciful turn of events.
A bird, or at least I’d thought it was, soon flapped by the castle. A ghastly shriek followed, and I pulled the window closed and vacated the pool.
A wooden hairbrush and steel comb waited in the drawer beneath the wash basin. I inspected both, finding a bloodred strand in the brush. I plucked it free, studied it for a second longer than necessary, and then attempted to rid my hair of tangles before getting dressed.
I had no desire to leave these rooms. I also had no desire to be in this realm. So after searching for my featherbone, I went in search of the king who’d stolen it.
The hall outside his rooms was empty of souls but filled with portraits. Brass sconces between them made it easy to take a surreptitious peek at the mountains veiled in mist beyond a drab depiction of this castle. As well as the shrewd blue and emerald gazes of Ashbone ancestors.
At either end of the hall loomed darkened doorways to watch towers. In the center was a marble-and-stone staircase that widened at each landing. As I descended to the first, flickers of firelight revealed a glimpse of the foyer on the ground floor.
Beneath the stairs, before the doors I couldn’t see in all their giant oak glory, the Ashbone insignia spread in colored tiles toward stone halls on either side of the foyer.
My skirts swished.
Believing it was one of the ghosts the king mentioned, I tensed until a black cat meowed.
My heart calmed. Still, I glowered at the creature, my hand on my chest. It purred and brushed against my leg again before leaping up onto the stair railing.
I hadn’t realized Vane kept pets. Then again, there was little I actually knew about the king who hadn’t been king for more than a handful of years.
The library was easily found.
That could have been due to it swallowing nearly half of the second floor. Overflowing shelves lined every inch of wall space between arched and vine-shrouded windows. Crooked stacks of books collected dust atop the marble fireplace mantel, beside armchairs, and upon the small and large glass tables.
A cobweb dangled from the rungs of a wooden ladder resting against the largest block of shelving, which met the ceiling.
Flame swayed in a sconce by the doorway and in a stained blue lantern upon the glass table between the two leather armchairs. There wasn’t space for more lighting, I surmised. Though the library seemed thrice the size of the king’s considerable bedchamber, there wasn’t even enough room for all of the books.
Energy prickled my nape a moment before the stranger behind me spoke. “The king often visits this musty place.”
Though I couldn’t disagree, it was indeed a little musty, I was too shocked to do more than gape as a tall male sauntered past me into the room.
He stopped upon reaching the round emerald carpet before the armchairs and turned to face me with his hands in his pant pockets. “His father, Vorx, practically lived in here.” His brown gaze moved from the shelves to me. “Before he was slain for attempting to stop the madness created by your father and that of your betrothed.”
King Vorx had been slain for far more than that, but I refrained from saying as much. “If you’re trying to intimidate me, you’ll need to try harder.” Smiling sweetly, I folded my hands before me. “I’ve spent years dealing with creatures far more direct and duplicitous than the likes of you.”
The faerie nodded twice. A pretty grin revealed a dimple in each clean-shaven cheek. “Atakan the heartless.”
I walked deeper into the room. Though I had no idea who this male was nor what he wanted from me, I assumed he knew why I was here and, therefore, didn’t intend to harm me. Not physically, at least.
“Rumor states he warms for no one.” An intentional silence preceded words I’d anticipated. “Not even you.”
There was no sting.
I was more aware than anyone of the prince’s feelings for me. Feelings which, over time, had softened due to my careful tactics. Not as much as I’d needed, but one day, they could have.
All for nothing now.
The misery evoked by the gloomy thought annoyed.
Forcing another smile, I leaned against one of six leather chairs tucked beneath the large glass table. I surveyed this stranger with hair the color of freshly turned soil and eyes just as dark. “Who are you?”
“Cerwin.” He folded into a bow that was nothing short of mocking, hand flourish and all. “His Majesty’s royal right hand and longtime friend.”
“Of course.”
As he straightened, a dark brow arched in question.
I shrugged. “Who else would gift me such a lovely welcome?”
He chuckled but quickly sobered. “You are not as meek as they say.”
“Never underestimate the quiet ones.” Then I asked, “And where is your king?”
“Away,” he said.
“Right.” I headed for one of the many shelves when the cat pranced into the library.
“Took your time,” Cerwin drawled, yet his mouth curved.
My next breath caught as the cat leaped into the air toward Vane’s royal right hand.
And disappeared beneath an explosion of shadows.
They dissipated as a short female patted her shoulder-length orange curls, then tossed her arms around Cerwin.
After a kiss that sent heat to my cheeks and my face to the shelves to hide it, the female said, “You’ll need to forgive my rude mate. He’s extra prickly before lunch.”
Mate.
Such bonds between souls were rare. Almost fable. Intrigued, I eyed her velvet, tunic-style dress and matching blue slippers. The latter clicked over the stone as she walked toward me.
“I’m extra prickly before knowing people’s true intentions, you mean.”
The cat-shifter glared at Cerwin. “Stop it.”
He smirked but had the good sense to keep his mouth shut.
“Daylia,” she said, her pink lips rising to reveal slightly pointed canines. Tiny fangs. “Steward, though not by choice.” Cerwin snorted. She ignored him. “But because this place falls apart without me. Here…” She snatched a book without so much as glancing at it and shoved it at me.
Collecting it from my chest, I frowned down at the faded gold whorls on the cover, then tried to keep up as she moved along the shelves and plucked more books, seemingly at random.
After ten or maybe eleven threatened to send me teetering, she thankfully stopped. “Just a few of my favorites.”
“Just a few,” I repeated, scarcely able to see her over the stack precariously balanced within my arms.
Another chuckle came from Cerwin.
“They’re all very steamy,” Daylia whispered. “If you know what I mean.”
“She’s winking,” her mate informed dryly. “Just in case you can’t see past the pile of damsels in distress in your arms.”
“Good to know,” I returned just as dryly.
“They don’t all feature damsels in distress,” she protested, though not to me, her slippers clacking toward Cerwin.
“They all feature plenty of sex.”
“Keep talking, and none will feature in your near future, you fun-sucking grump.”
He grumbled something about sucking I didn’t quite catch on account of trying to find my way safely out of the library and back to the stairs.
As I neared them, Daylia hissed, “You frightened her away.”
“She hardly looked frightened.” A pause. “Struggling, maybe.” He laughed, then groaned. “What? A good introduction can reveal a lot about someone, such as their motives.” Another pause. “The way she managed to get here shouldn’t be ignored.”
Their voices grew distant as I slowly climbed the stairs.
“If Vane believed she’d hurt any of us, she wouldn’t be roaming the halls, let alone sleeping in his chambers.”
“Vane cannot afford to be cruel to the halfling,” Cerwin stated. “That’s why he has me.”
“Your logic is so flawed, it almost makes sense.”
“Day, that makes no sense.”
Despite the strangeness of what I’d just experienced, I fought a smile, then cursed viciously as books toppled from the tower in my arms mere steps away from the king’s chambers.
The days following my abrupt arrival in the enemy’s lair were spent lounging upon the divan before deciding the king’s bed was far superior.
I’d read two of the books forcefully recommended by Daylia, reluctantly admitting when she’d delivered my meals that they were indeed worthy of being dubbed favorites. I was halfway through the third when the rain ceased, and murmurs gathered volume in the castle halls.
After three days, it seemed the king who would only grant me my freedom in exchange for my love had returned from darkness only knew where.
I’d taken to leaving the doors of his rooms cracked in case I heard anything of interest, but also to hear someone’s approach. Seldom had I left to explore the castle. I hadn’t much need with my meals being delivered and entertainment available at the turn of a page.
I might have been a captive, but I certainly wasn’t being treated like a prisoner.
I’d been given the finest cuts of meat and the sweetest fruits and treats. Even wine accompanied dinner. Daylia lingered every other visit, attempting to rouse me into conversation about books before veering toward the subject of Vane. How funny he could be. How brave and loyal he was. How even his dour moods were but a short storm.
I’d always ignore her, remaining silent until she’d sigh and bid me a good day or good night.
Maybe King Vane and his loyal subjects thought me defiant. Petulant. Even cruel.
It suited me just fine. As I refused to admit that I was enjoying myself far more than I ought to be. I failed to recall when I’d last truly relaxed, and any guilt or shame for doing so was snuffed by reminding myself that it might be the last time I did.
After this insanity met whatever end it would, the odds were high that I’d be dead or trying very hard not to be yet again.
Something akin to nervousness—perhaps trepidation over all I’d never wanted to be a part of—filled me at the thought of seeing the king after his absence. So much so, the book I’d been devouring now failed to keep my attention.
I left it face down upon the rumpled sheets of the king’s bed, called toward the sunshine and bustle of activity.
Heading down the stairs, I gathered the cotton skirts of my gown. The simple number had roses embroidered in the low neckline and along the flared hem of the elbow-length sleeves. I veered left in the foyer into a long hall that cut through the center of the castle.
It spat me out into a puddle of light. Conversing staff quieted when they heard me enter the adjoining hall. Two of them bowed, a male and female, while the smaller one, perhaps one of their offspring, blinked and gaped.
I nodded in greeting. “Which way to the gardens?”
The blond female pointed beyond me. “Go right at the end of this hall and then continue.” Her mothlike wings joined behind her head. “There are big glass doors that give entrance to the courtyard. You won’t miss them, Princess.”
I smiled my gratitude. Their whispering stalked as I followed the instructions. A mention of the wards tensed my shoulders.
These people would have been better off searching for other impossible ways to end their curse. Though the sooner they realized that, the sooner I would be in grave danger. I had to find a way to escape these lands before that happened.
Vane could have been lying about the featherbone. Leading me to believe it was useless certainly was in his best interest. Regardless, I wanted it back.
Indeed, the doors weren’t easily missed.
Light grew glaringly bright as the hall widened toward them. The glass doors lined half the protruding wall, two open in the center. Vines crawled over the others, which I surmised were seldom used.
The courtyard presented similarly.
Moss carpeted the legs of a cracked stone bench and covered most of the pavers. Vines birthing violet flowers strangled the wooden posts and hung from the awning in sagging curtains. I ducked to avoid them and stepped onto emerald grass.
My slippers sank into the blades softened by the rainfall, the satin immediately soaked. I shielded my eyes from the sun, stunned by the vast greenery and color spread before me. From one end of the castle to the other, flora flourished. Many plants I’d never seen before.
In the distance, wood and stone buildings stood large against the bright sky. Stables, I assumed, noting the paddocks to the west. The rest might have been staff housing. Maybe guard barracks.
Carved between the acres of lush life were grass pathways. More stone benches hid beneath vines and strange flowers reminiscent of bluebells.
As I walked deeper into the gardens, I regretted not choosing something lighter to wear.
Spring certainly favored this western realm. A light sweat misted my skin from the humidity. Beads of water clung to leaves larger than my hands. Bird-like critters with sword-sharp beaks fluttered stumpy wings, hovering atop gleaming flowers.
Some of the plants swayed away as I neared, while others lurched closer, causing me to gather my skirts.
Too late, apparently.
A giant purple flower snatched my gown, halting me.
I turned toward it, trying to yank my skirts free. But the thorns tugged as the thick stem curled. Mystified and irrationally frightened, I hissed at it, “Release me right this instant.”
A deep chuckle straightened my spine and cooled my clammy skin.
The flower let go, retreating into the bed among its colorful brethren. As the king leisurely strolled down the path, everything appeared to still. Even the chirping and buzzing of critters and insects ceased.
In scuffed black pants crafted from thick leather and a matching long-sleeved tunic with an armored chest, Vane hardly resembled a king.
He resembled a bloodthirsty warrior in one of his gruesome armies.
His hair was tangled and unbound, a creature in his arms pawing at the crimson strands. Soil, blood, and sweat joined his smoky scent, igniting my curiosity all the more.
He stopped a respectable distance from me. “They want your attention.” He nodded toward the now-still flowers. “If you don’t acknowledge them, they will try to force your hand.”
“Yet I see that they’ll leave you alone.”
“I am the king.” The statement wasn’t smug but matter of fact. “When I was young, they tried their nasty tricks on me, too.”
But I’d lost interest in the flowers.
I moved a step closer to inspect the pile of gray fur and leathery wings in his arms. A wolverine snout and glowing eyes turned my way. Tiny tufts of fur sprouted from the tips of tall and pointed ears.
I did my best to keep my mouth from falling open. “Is that a felynx?”
He nodded again. “Lone survivor from a litter of four.”
“What happened to the rest?”
“Found dead near the border. The young often fail to sense the danger of the wards.”
Dismay dug into my heart as the cub released a weak growl. It looked so tiny in the bulk of Vane’s arms. But when I stole it from him, I was shocked by the heft and size—nearly double that of a cat.
Vibrant gold eyes blinked up at me as I hushed the cub’s protests and stroked its velvet nose. “That’s where you’ve been, then?” I asked Vane. “Visiting the borders.”
The king didn’t answer.
He headed back down the path, his giant boots crushing sodden leaves. “She will need to be fed twice daily if you want her to survive.”
“She?” I questioned. “Wait.” I blinked. “Excuse me, King.” I hurried after him. “ Me? ”
A groundskeeper pretended to rake as we marched by him to the courtyard. Vane ducked his head to avoid the sagging vines. “You eased her suffering. She’s now yours.”
Panicked, I came close to running. “I touched its damned nose.” The beast in my arms curled against my shoulder, gripping it as if worried I’d drop her.
“That’s all it took.”
“You soothed her first.”
“I’ve already bonded with a felynx. He was shot down by numerous iron-tipped arrows during our attempts to find the witches warding our lands.”
That shouldn’t have saddened me, and it absolutely didn’t. Yet my arms tightened around the felynx cub.
Staff gasped as I burst through the glass doors after their king. “Then you can bond with another.”
“I’m not willing.”
“And you believe I am?” The question was almost shouted down the hall. But this was ridiculous. “I don’t want a pet. I don’t even want to be here. ”
Vane climbed the stairs with grace unsuited for his formidable form. “A felynx is not a pet, Princess, and the way you’ve been lounging around for the past three days hardly screams misery.”
Taken aback, as I hadn’t glimpsed his slithering shadows since his departure, I asked, “You’ve been spying on me again?”
He just grunted.
Surmising sour Cerwin had kept him informed, or even Daylia, I returned to the issue at hand. “I’m serious, King.” Trailing him up the stairs, I adjusted the felynx in my arms. “What will become of it when I leave these lands?”
“She will simply follow. The wards will be down.”
He had a damned answer for everything, it seemed. I refused to let it sway me. None of this was right, yet somehow, this pushed me toward losing my addled mind. “You cannot just force a cub upon me.”
He reached his rooms. “I didn’t.”
I was so incensed that I almost missed how he held the doors open for me before closing them after I’d stormed into his chambers. “This is doing the opposite for your cursed realm, you know.” I set the beastly babe on the floor and my hands on my hips. “If you want to help make me love you, then you’d best find this poor thing someone else to care for it.”
He groaned, scrubbing his cheek. The scratch of his skin meeting coarse hair distracted. “I have no desire to repeat words I’ve already spoken.”
“Well,” I said, venom coating my tone. “I still have no desire for the likes of you. So you may as well vanish me back to Cloud Castle.”
I had to go back. Not only was my fate unavoidable but I also didn’t want to be here. Though something curdled within me at the mere thought of facing familiar foes.
“You do not wish to return.”
What I wanted didn’t matter. Not to anyone. Including this monstrous king. “Presumptuous of you.”
He kicked off his boots, leaving them by the door. For cleaning, I guessed, my nose crinkling at their cruddy state. “Spies, remember?” he said. “I know your time there was uncomfortable at best.”
My blood chilled.
He’d already made it abundantly clear that he’d been watching me. That his shadows had been reporting back to him. And if he’d been spying on me for however long, he’d been prying into whatever else transpired in Ethermore.
His smirk was knowing as he walked barefoot into his dressing chamber. “You might not want to love me, but you are loving the freedom from a particular prince’s dark obsession with you.”
The sight of his giant feet stayed and rankled. He wasn’t entirely wrong, but he also wasn’t entirely right.
Scratching sounded at the doors. The felynx turned to me, her gold eyes reminiscent of the bronze belonging to the aforementioned prince. “You will wait a minute,” I told her without thought. “I’m not done…” I threw out my hands, settling on, “Arguing.”
A grunted laugh left the dressing chamber with the king. “I am.” He slung a pair of those linen pants over his broad shoulder. “Your pent-up rage can wait until I’ve bathed the past three days from my bulbous body.” He entered the bathing room.
I was glad he couldn’t see the heat staining my cheeks. He couldn’t have known I’d thought about those exact pants on him. His shadows and friends couldn’t read my stupidly adventurous thoughts.
To my surprise, the cub was sitting, the tufted black tip of her tail swishing as she waited.
I sighed, then glared toward the bathing room when I heard the pool filling. “You haven’t closed the door.”
“My rooms. Didn’t know I had to.”
Bristling, I took the cub I didn’t want back outside.