Chapter 4
Four
I AWOKE IN THE SOFTEST bed I’d ever slept in.
On any other day I might have lain there a moment longer, luxuriating in the feel of the clean linen against my skin. But as my thoughts clanged together and the events of last night came ricocheting back, I tore off the covers in alarm.
Yann.
Where was he? Was he safe? Was he alive?
The last thing I could remember was the prince’s cold eyes, his arms around me.
I couldn’t shake the image of Yann abandoned in the dirt, his body torn apart, blood soaking into the greedy, barren ground.
Raleigh had given me his word he wouldn’t kill him, but that didn’t mean Yann wouldn’t be found by more wolves.
That was if he didn’t starve first, wandering the woods in circles.
I could only hope he’d made it out alive and that wherever he was, he was safe.
But I was hardly in a better situation. I surveyed my surroundings with reluctant awe.
The room was richly furnished. Heavy crimson drapery framed the bed, cut from the same fabric as a set of curtains on the wall, concealing what must have been a window.
I swung my legs from the bed, my toes sinking into a fur rug.
Someone had taken my shoes off while I slept.
No. I looked down at my attire, feeling a chill spread from the base of my spine.
My ruined travelling clothes were gone, my skin scrubbed clean of blood. Someone had bathed me.
The thought of Raleigh’s hands roaming my unconscious body sent a mix of emotions racing through me that I had no wish to interrogate. I prayed that he had servants. Man, woman, young, old, I didn’t care. Anyone but him.
I had been dressed in what must have been a nightgown, though I never would have dreamed of wearing something so decadent to sleep in.
It was angelic white, with delicately stitched lace framing the wrists and hem.
Running my hands over it, I realised it was probably silk.
I’d never owned more than a silk handkerchief in the past, and that was luxury enough.
The room had no mirror, which was disappointing, but not surprising; I had a fairly good idea of where I was and knew my host had no need of a mirror. Raleigh von Rostenburg was not human, of that much I was certain. If I had any chance of escape, it had to be while the sun was out.
I made my way to the window and hurled open the curtains, blinking against the harsh spray of light that burst through.
It must have been midday, and the sky was so clear it seemed to be mocking me.
When my eyes adjusted, I scanned the horizon for any telltale landmarks in the distance.
I couldn’t see much more than mountain from this angle, but when I leant out as far as I dared, I could make out a cluster of roofs I knew to be Orlfen.
There was only one place I could be.
Growing up, I had always thought Castle Rostenburg hung precariously off the mountain, clinging to the cliff like an ancient, stubborn dragon, despite how structurally impossible I knew that to be.
Now I realised I’d been right. Though I judged I was only a few floors up, a fall from this window would send me tumbling far deeper into the valley.
The mere thought of looking down at the trees make sweat bead on my arms, and my feet felt like they had turned to air.
I wouldn’t be escaping through the window, then. I’d have to venture into the castle.
My room was unlocked, which did nothing to still my nerves.
Clearly Raleigh didn’t think a lock was necessary to keep me inside.
He even left the key on the dressing table for me.
There were no windows in the hall, and the sconces were unlit.
I retreated to my room in search of a light to take with me.
The room, I reminded myself. It wasn’t mine yet.
I had no intention of staying here another night.
A practical candlestick was too much to hope for.
Instead, I found a candelabra on the end table beside my bed, with three fresh candles and a gold vase of wooden spills to light them.
I dipped one spill into the glowing embers in the fireplace and lit each candle one by one.
Then I stepped back into the dark, took a turn at random and began to wind my way through the halls.
The atmosphere was heavy, unwelcoming. If I didn’t know any better I’d think no one lived here.
Every surface I passed was covered in a thick layer of dust, and no matter how far I walked the sconces remained unlit, cobwebbed with disuse.
My candlelight cast shadows upon portraits of long-dead Linfords, their unseeing eyes following me in the darkness, their names lost to time.
There were no signs of life. Not a scurry, not a creak. Even the webs held no spiders under their dusty coating. And yet I couldn’t shake the feeling I was not alone.
The corridor stretched for longer than I thought could possibly fit within the castle before I finally reached a flight of stairs.
I started down them, hopeful at first, but they twisted and led to so many identical corridors I felt no closer to the ground than I did at the top.
Twice I had no option but to retrace my steps, and once I found myself standing at the top of the same set of stairs again without ever realising I’d gone back upstairs.
I couldn’t tell how long I’d been walking.
It must have been hours. My legs and back screamed at me to take a break while my stomach howled for attention.
I ignored it all, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other to make it out of this dreaded labyrinth, until one by one the melted stubs of my candles sputtered and faded away.
The darkness was so thick I could almost taste it.
I slumped against the wall and sank to the floor, my legs sighing with relief at the chance to rest. There was an enchantment at work here, that much was clear, but it felt different to the one in the woods.
My mind felt entirely whole this time, as though the castle was the one enchanted, not me, but I didn’t know if that was possible.
Then again, most people would call Raleigh’s existence impossible.
I tried to think of another plan, but my stomach wouldn’t let me.
I hadn’t eaten since the night before, and while I’d gone far longer without food, I wasn’t used to spending so much energy running from demonic princes.
I wondered if Raleigh kept food somewhere in the castle.
Did he eat the same food as the rest of us?
I doubted it. But a castle this size must have had a kitchen at some stage in history.
Maybe, however slim the chances, it would contain something edible.
By now my eyes had adjusted enough to the gloom that I could at least make out shadows around me.
I abandoned my useless candelabra and felt my way down the corridor, keeping my mind on kitchens to drown out the part of me that longed to give up.
Kitchens, food, hearths and clean water.
Escape could come later, I just needed something to eat.
I rounded another corner, and my heart leapt at the sight of a bloom of light down the next hall.
I began to run. The light seeped through the cracks around a single door in the darkness.
I stopped when I reached it and took a deep breath, steadying myself.
There could be anything behind that door – food, freedom or Prince Raleigh himself, lying in wait for his restless bride.
But I’d wandered too far to turn back. I had to take the risk.
I knocked, and when there was no answer, I slowly opened the door.
My heart plummeted.
It was the bedroom; I’d looped right back to where I started.
But someone had been there since my departure.
The fire was stoked, with new logs burning brightly in the hearth, and the table was laid with enough food to last me days.
A bowl of stew had been portioned out, rich with generous lumps of meat and heaving with vegetables.
Behind it sat an entire fresh, if inexpertly baked, loaf of bread, accompanied by a block of real butter.
Someone had taken the time to cut it into uneven slices – they hadn’t risked giving me anything sharper than a butter knife.
I hesitated. This absolutely reeked of trickery.
I needed to escape the castle while there was still daylight, and this was clearly meant to distract me, but then my stomach roared and all reason abandoned me.
The sun would rise again, I told myself.
This wasn’t the underworld; an entire pomegranate couldn’t change my fate.
Besides, it would be a waste to leave it all.
I suspected the prince had no interest in it.
Guiltily, I slipped into the chair and spooned a mouthful of stew past my lips.
It had long since gone cold and the cook hadn’t quite learnt that salt was a luxury to be portioned carefully, but I almost wept at how good it felt to eat something so decadent.
I barely managed half the bowl before I was full to bursting. It felt wonderful.
Fed and watered, my sense of reason began to creep back.
My feet ached terribly. I peeled off my worn slippers, unsurprised to find blisters forming on the soles of my feet.
If I tried to tackle the labyrinth again, my feet wouldn’t carry me far like this.
I glanced at the window. The dull grey of the sky cautioned that there was only an hour or so left of sunlight.
I really had been walking for hours. There was no longer enough time to return to Orlfen without a horse before the sun set. I had to change tactics.
I couldn’t run from the prince, but I could still defend myself.