11. Everly
Everly
Chapter eleven
Agitated, I pace back and forth in my chamber. Who does the queen think she is? I am not one of her subjects to be ordered around. I don’t belong here.
Nix still hasn’t returned, and Zaria left about ten minutes ago to find Raiden. Observing the group, it’s clear how close-knit they are. Their interactions are fluid and natural, filled with an unspoken understanding and camaraderie. The trust they share is unmistakable, reminiscent of the bond I have with Mia and Scarlett. Those two are more than just friends to me; they’re like sisters, woven into the fabric of my life with threads of shared experiences and unwavering loyalty.
A sudden, loud knock at my door makes my heart skip a beat as it echoes through the chambers. I quickly make my way over to the door, my fists clenched. With a deep breath, I swing the door open, ready to confront whoever waits on the other side.
My breath catches in my throat as I take in the incredible sight before me. Holy shit.
Dressed in all black, Maxon’s violet eyes blaze with an intense heat. Clipped to his shoulders is a long black cape that drapes almost to the ground. Secured to his waist by a leather belt, a long sword hangs at his side, its hilt gleaming in the sunlight. My eyes run over the leather cuffs covering his forearms, each bearing the same markings as the tattoo on his face.
"Stóirín," he says with a grin, his eyes sparkling.
I quickly shut my mouth, realizing I had been gaping for a few seconds.
“Your Highness.”
“Call me Maxon.”
“But Zaria said–”
Maxon shook his head, some of his dark hair falling over his face. “I want you to call me Maxon.”
Taken aback, I struggle to push the words out. “Oh, okay.”
He stares at me with a strange expression, one that seems caught between amusement and curiosity. “I have training for a few hours, but after I can come and give you a tour of the castle if you’d like.”
A thrill of excitement shoots through me at the thought of exploring the castle, and my anger is momentarily forgotten. “And the gardens?”
“Yes, and the gardens.” Maxon grins.
The memory of Zaria's words before she left causes my smile to falter. “Why can’t I leave?”
Maxon sighs and steps closer, our bodies less than a foot apart. Why do I want to take that final step and close the distance?
“The queen wants answers. If you're not in the dungeons, then you're to remain on the castle grounds until she has them.”
“So, I’m a prisoner then?” I murmur, wariness creeping into my voice. Heat creeps up my neck and I take a step back.
Maxon doesn’t like that. Moving quickly, he closes the distance once more, his hand raising to gently cradle my face. I freeze in place, my senses on high alert.
“No,” he states firmly. “You are not a prisoner here.”
My eyes search his and I can’t seem to look away. “Then what am I?”
Maxon moves closer, our bodies only inches apart. My palms itch to reach for him, but I curl my fingers into my palms to resist the urge.
“I’m not sure yet.”
My heart skips a beat at his softly spoken words.
What does that mean?
Dropping his hand, Maxon steps back, his hand landing on the hilt of his sword. “I will collect you after training.”
Without waiting for a reply, he turns and swiftly makes his way down the hall, his black cape flowing behind him. Feeling defeated, I grip the door and swing it shut. Almost instantly I feel my mood darkening, I don’t like being cooped up. Looking around the chambers, I ponder what to do until he returns. I walk over and run my fingers over the books lining a small bookshelf in the corner, but don’t recognize any of the titles.
The balcony doors are open, and the gentle scent of jasmine drifts in on the breeze. Closing my eyes, I inhale deeply, taking in the fresh air. The sweet scent of blooming flowers fills my senses, and my sour mood begins to lift. I need to be outside. Wandering over to the balcony doors, I step out into the sunshine, the warmth of the sun soaking into my skin. This morning has been a rollercoaster ride of craziness, with almost being thrown in a dungeon and all. The thought of being locked up in the dark makes my skin crawl.
I step toward the edge of the balcony and feel the cool breeze on my face as I look out over the courtyard. I’m several storeys up, with no hope of finding a way to climb down. Not that I would, though I let the thought linger a moment longer before I push it away.
The courtyard is huge and also empty. Where is everyone? I expected the castle to be bustling with people, yet I’ve barely seen anyone apart from the guards and a few maids.
I make my way back into the room, finding the silence to be almost overwhelming. There has to be something I can do in here to pass the time. The large beautifully carved wooden wardrobe catches my attention. Making my way over to it, I pull open the door, disappointed to find it empty.
Zaria said she sent some maids to fetch me some clothes from the village. I wonder what the village looks like. I only really recall the forest, and then the castle.
I close the wardrobe and move on to the dresser, opening each drawer, but finding them bare.
Leaning down, I smell the candle sitting atop the dresser. The scent is strange and unfamiliar, unlike anything I have ever smelled before. I gingerly lift the candle, hoping to find the fragrance written on the bottom, but as I do, a soft click echoes through the room.
There’s a faint rumble, and suddenly a part of the wall gives way, revealing a hidden tunnel. I stand frozen for a moment, my senses alert to the newfound mystery lurking just beyond the threshold. With hesitant steps, I approach the revealed entrance, the silence of the chamber pressing in around me like a heavy fog. I cast a wary glance over my shoulder before steeling myself to peer inside. Looking into the dark void that calls out to me, a sense of unease crawls down my spine. The stone corridor stretches out before me, a winding descent into the unknown depths below. Shadows dance eerily along the uneven walls, swallowing the feeble light that dares to intrude. The darkness is thick, and my eyes strain to see beyond a few feet.
Lost in contemplation, I weigh my options, torn between the safety of the room or the allure of the unexplored. I should remain here until Maxon or Zaria return, even Nix. But curiosity pulls me forward.
Taking a deep breath, I step into the tunnel and am immediately hit with the musty smell of damp stone and mildew. I realize I’m still holding the candle and turn back for a match or lighter, but don’t see anything.
Shit.
Maybe I should stay where I am.
The thought of being trapped in this room fills me with anger, yet the prospect of venturing into an unknown, dimly lit passage is equally unsettling.
It could lead to the dungeons for all I know.
Still, I take another step, resting my hand against the rough stone wall which is cool against my skin. Cautiously, I move all the way into the passage, a thrill of excitement rushing through my veins. But with no light source, the foreboding darkness of the tunnel and its narrow appearance send my anxiety spiking.
Leaning against the wall to gather myself, I tip my head back and hear another click. My heart stops dead in my chest, then takes off in a gallop as I scramble upright. Before I get a chance to move, the wall slides back into place, enclosing me in pitch-black darkness.
“Oh, no, no, no, no,” I mutter, my hands touching the wall in front of me.
A familiar knot forms in my stomach, causing a wave of nausea. I frantically feel along the wall, my palms become clammy and a cold sweat breaks out across my forehead. The fear that once haunted my childhood memories resurface, gripping me tightly in its icy grasp.
“Shit!” I gasp.
Even though I can’t see a thing, white dots dance across my vision as my breathing rapidly increases. I need to get myself together. I lean over, resting my hands on my knees, and take deep breaths.
“You’ve got this, Everly,” I chide myself.
This is a passage, a tunnel, and that means it leads somewhere. I’m not trapped.
Gathering myself, I stand upright, and using the wall as a guide, the fingers of one hand trace the rough surface as I grip my long skirt in the other. Navigating the steps in this dress is awkward, and the absence of sight makes it even more challenging. The only sound to be heard is my breathing as I descend further into the darkness. I take the stairs slowly, and though relief consumes me when my feet hit the bottom and I see light, it takes a conscious effort to control my emotions and not run ahead.
I step out into the sunshine and gulp down the fresh air. The soft breeze envelops me in its comforting embrace, and I savor the way it caresses through my hair and across my skin, cooling me in an instant. Unable to stand on my shaky legs a moment longer, I fall to my knees on the soft grass, my tulle skirt puffing around me like a pillow.
Oh my god, never again.
The passage behind me is partially concealed by plants, and as I study it, my gaze shifts upward to the intricate ironwork on the balconies above me, but I'm unsure which one is mine.
I’m fine. Everything’s fine.
The garden is filled with the sounds of chirping birds, which somehow calms my mind. Pushing myself up from the ground, I notice the dirt that has collected on my skirt and give it a shake, dislodging the bulk of it.
Satisfied I’m alone, I step out from my hidden spot and look around the garden. My breath catches in my throat as I stand here mesmerized. Though my balcony has a view, the true beauty of the surroundings is lost from that height. The colors are so bright and vivid. Making my way across the grass to the stone path, I take in the various flowers. Some I recognize, some I don't.
As I walk through the garden, I trail my fingers over the velvety petals and leaves, taking in their different textures and scents. A sense of lightness washes over me, from the tips of my toes to the top of my head. Nature has always brought me peace and comfort, especially under the warm sun and in the crisp, fresh air. Being inside and confined always feels like a heavy blanket being draped over my shoulders, suffocating me.
Suddenly, the silence is shattered by the sound of voices, followed by boisterous shouts and cheers.
What on earth?
I pick up my pace, my heart racing with anticipation as I head toward the source of the voices. A large Victorian-style wrought iron gate at the edge of the garden reveals a crowd of people. As I draw closer, the sound of metal-on-metal rings through the air, piquing my curiosity.
Slipping through the gate unnoticed, I walk around the outskirts of the crowd, trying to get a view of what they’re looking at. I stomp my foot in frustration, not able to see over the mass of people. Glancing around, I see some wooden crates next to a cart and make my way over. I'm spurred on by the round of cheers as I hastily make my way over to them and climb up.
Looking over the crowd I see a large arena with two men inside, both in fierce combat. I’m completely transfixed as their swords clash. One man loses his sword and I gasp as the other man sweeps him off his feet before pointing the sword at his neck. The crowd's roar is deafening, but my eyes are trained on the two men. My chest tightens as I watch and wait, unsure of what I’m about to witness. The swift relief I feel causes my shoulders to slump as the victor sheaths his sword and assists the other man to his feet.
Finally able to breathe again, my eyes wander over the crowd. They all vary in shapes and forms, most resembling regular men, but all have the pointed ears that mark them as Fae.
My breath catches in my throat when I see a dark figure step into the arena, drawing everyone’s attention. A rhythmic stomping starts, the crowd's feet echoing through the air as Maxon strides confidently toward the center of the arena, his cape billowing behind him. My heartbeat keeps time with the stomping as the vibrations send a thrill through me. The feeling is electrifying. I’ve never experienced anything like it before.
Maxon's face remains impassive as he removes his cape and hands it to a young boy who swiftly dashes toward the arena's edge. Sometime since he left my room, he secured his long hair into a bun, highlighting the defined structure of his jawline. I stare transfixed as he draws his sword, swinging it around, his movements strong, powerful, direct.
He reminds me of the god of war.
Dark and formidable.
Another fae makes his way to the center of the arena, and he is huge. My pulse kicks up in fear when a grin spreads across the fae’s face while he strips off his shirt. The crowd roars with excitement as the man's muscles bulge, and the stomping comes to a stop. Maxon stands there, his features carefully neutral, giving away nothing.
Both fae ready their swords, and I hold my breath. My body is pulsating with nerves, making me feel dizzy, but the thrill of excitement keeps me transfixed on the scene ahead. A horn blares, and in an instant, the two men are off, their bodies a blur of motion.
The hulk fae swings his sword in a wide arc, and a gasp falls from my lips. My hands fly to cover my mouth. Maxon swiftly sidesteps to avoid the swing, pivoting quickly on his feet, and unleashes a series of blows that cause the bigger fae to stumble backward.
Maxon’s movements are fluid and practiced. Every strike is swift, precise, and calculated to perfection as he swings the sword, his gaze fixed on his challenger. I watch with bated breath for several moments. Their swords clash and dance in a lethal battle of skill and strength, his opponent fighting back with equal ferocity.
The crowd erupts again, their thunderous applause reverberating through the arena. Maxon’s face remains stoic, focus unwavering. His challenger is struggling to keep up as Maxon surges ahead, with an unrelenting pace.
My understanding of sword fighting is minimal, but Maxon is clearly winning.
“Hey, what do you think you're doing?” an unfamiliar voice bellows.
I jump as a hand lands firmly on my forearm, and I’m yanked with surprising strength. My eyes shift from the fight to find an irritated man with bluish skin glaring up at me. Despite my efforts to pull free, his grip on my arm remains unyielding. His snarl reverberates through the air around us as he forcefully pulls me down onto the ground from the crates. I stumble when my feet hit the ground, but his firm grip on my arm keeps me from falling face-first into the dirt.
“Hey!” I exclaim angrily. “Let me go.”
But the fae doesn’t listen, beginning instead to drag me back toward the gate I came through. I try to halt my movement by digging my heels into the ground, but the slipper shoes Zaria gave me provide no traction. Argh! Crappy delicate fae shoes. I need my boots.
“I said let me go!” I snap, forcefully tugging on his grip.
As preoccupied as I am with fighting the fae, I don't immediately notice the stifling silence that has descended upon us. Abruptly, a dark shape looms over us, causing us to freeze in place.
In one swift motion, Maxon’s arm encircles my waist, pulling me into his side. I feel my face heat as everyone’s gazes lock on me.
Maxon's sword is now pointed at the fae’s throat. “Care to explain what exactly you are doing with her?”
The fae swallows roughly. “She isn’t supposed to be here, Your Highness.”
The tension in the air grows thicker with every passing moment. I cautiously peer up at Maxon. His eyes are blazing in anger.
“Maxon?” I whisper, confused.
The sound of gasps and grumbles from those around me makes me press myself closer to Maxon's side, my fingers gripping the fabric of his black shirt. The arm around my waist gives a small squeeze.
“Do not touch her,” Maxon growls. The sound is low and menacing, making my pulse skitter.
“It’s fine,” I try, but Maxon isn’t listening.
“No one lays a finger on her. Understood?” he commands, addressing the soldiers in the arena.
The weight of everyone’s stare bores down on me, and I can feel my face flush. I try creating distance between us, but Maxon isn’t having any of it. Lowering his sword, he glares at the fae before nodding. Without hesitation, the fae turns and strolls away, disappearing into the crowd.
“That's enough for today. Tomorrow at dawn, everyone is to report here,” Maxon declares firmly to the crowd.