15. Chapter 15 #2
I stand on my tiptoes to meet him halfway, allowing his kiss to deepen against mine in want.
In need.
After a long moment of being entangled in his arms, his wandering hands manage to find my waist and grip on tight, as though he fears I might fly away into the star-blazoned sky.
Augustine.
I wake up in bed with beads of sweat spilling down my forehead.
It takes my eyes a moment to adjust to the daylight pouring in through the ceiling, and even longer to remember where I am.
Sitting up, I look around, fully expecting to find my new friends lying in their dedicated corners of the Atrium, still fast asleep.
But all I see instead is an airy, empty four-chambered room, sparkling with cleanliness.
The maids must’ve arrived after everyone else went to breakfast. Without me.
I was probably sleeping so heavily they hadn’t wanted to disturb me.
That’s when my dream comes crashing back to reality like a symphony of meteorites exploding.
It’s almost like he’s orchestrating… hang on.
Of course he’s orchestrating this. He’s the God of Dreams, after all.
That bastard is doing this on purpose. He’s forcing me to think of him every time I drift off into dreamland, creating scenarios where I yearn to kiss him.
Where I do kiss him. He could not get any more self-conceited, truly.
Or could he?
I unclench my fist, only to find something strange in it.
A crumpled-up note tucked into my hand, glistening like it has a soul.
I unravel and read it, only to learn that the prick’s handwriting is flawless.
It's a shame the note disintegrates before I have a chance to rip it to pieces, because I thoroughly would’ve enjoyed shredding it up myself.
Dreaming about me again?
“Fuck off, Augustine,” I mutter under my breath as I roll out of my tangled bedsheets and fall to the ground with a thump.
One glimpse in the mirror reminds me that I’m not wearing the same dress I was wearing last evening.
The beautiful obsidian gown is now a puddle at the foot of my bed, replaced by a flower-petaled nightgown.
I shuffle to the armoire to get dressed, mostly because I will not be caught dead in a nightgown as thin as this.
My heart skips upon realizing that the gowns are all color-coordinated, long-sleeved, and tailored to fit me, which is a nice distraction from the rage currently simmering within my belly.
The sea of fabric on the far left of the armoire is packed with sheer spools of golden silk, sequins, empire waists, and suffocating corsets.
My fingers graze a mermaid gown embroidered with pearls, then sweep right, drifting over deeper hints of oceanic greens, indigo blues, deathly charcoals, and aquamarines.
I linger on a scarlet gown with a plunging neckline.
But as I contemplate wearing the temptress spun in lace, I decide that it’s too restrictive for when I attempt to escape from this place.
The last thing I need to be wearing is a cage.
That’s when I stumble on a special garment tucked away in the corner, one that’s different from all the rest. It’s a black jumpsuit made entirely of leather with a belt crafted for holding weapons. And there’s a note in it.
WEAR ME TODAY.
I rip off the note, my eyes widening in disbelief.
Sunshine, you have truly outdone yourself.
Once I’ve finished changing, I enter the hallway, where I run smack-dab into a guard posted at my door. “Excuse me,” I mutter and keep my head down in an effort to live up to my namesake. I certainly look like a shadow, dressed like this.
The guard follows me. “Where are you headed this morning, Milady?” he asks.
His question causes me to freeze in place.
Mostly because his voice doesn’t sound like the grating drone of death, unlike the other soldiers of the Divine Army.
It sounds… pleasant. I peer up at him slowly, my eyes narrowing in suspicion as I rake in his clunky, gold-plated metal armor and his objectively hideous helmet.
He appears as if he belongs to the army of the undead, but the eyes that peer back at me between the metal slits in his helmet aren’t snake-like enough.
In fact, they’re as green as a field of rolling pasture in the spring.
“You’re a man,” I observe as calmly as I can. “I’ve never met a human soldier before.”
Aside from in my dreams.
The soldier sputters. Perhaps I’m giving him too much eye contact. I tend to do that. Or maybe it’s the fact that I look hot as fuck in this jumpsuit. But if Sunshine really wanted me to wear it—enough to stick a note on it—then who was I to say no?
I resort to mercifully averting my gaze, only to realize that I’m lost. These paintings don’t resemble the paintings that Regent depicted during our tour yesterday.
They’re darker, more dreary. “I planned to meet everyone at breakfast,” I say.
“When did this hallway change?” I spin on my heel and stuff an accusatory finger in his face.
So much for making him feel more at ease. “And who are you?”
“I have no name, Milady.” The guard steps back with his hands raised like I’ve drawn a weapon against him. “I’ve been hired to protect you.”
My eyes widen further. “Another no-named servant. Well, that’s just fantastic. Protect me from what, exactly?”
“From any threat, foe or friend, inside the castle or out,” the guard says, adjusting his collar beneath his armor.
“Who hired you?” I ask. “Was it the queen?”
Because if so, I don’t want you anywhere near me.
“It was the God of Dreams, Milady,” he says.
My cheeks flush hot. “Augustine hired you to spy on me?”
“No, Milady. He hired me to keep you safe. I am no spy. I am a knight.”
“A knight, you say?” I laugh. “Remove your helmet, and I will determine whether or not you are a knight.” He does as told and whisks off his helmet, revealing a freckled-faced man who can’t be any older than me. His goofy grin and brilliant eyes remind me of Eric in a way, only sweeter.
“Alright.” I exhale in disbelief. “I suppose that you look like a knight. You may follow me, but only if you agree to tell Augustine to fuck off on my behalf.”
The knight’s enormous Adam’s apple bobs. “I can’t do that, Milady. He’ll…” He draws a finger to his throat and swipes it across his neck.
I roll my eyes and storm away. “He’s hardly a threat.”
“He’s dangerous, Milady. Everyone knows it. Especially him.” The knight rushes to catch up with me.
I pause to raise a brow as I contemplate this. “Dangerous, you say? I call bullshit.”
“I wouldn’t speak like that, Milady.” The knight’s face whitens. “One mustn’t tempt the wrath of the gods.”
“Have you received any news about the statue?” I ask, changing the subject, half-expecting to hear that the statue has already been repaired.
Because if that’s the case, then screw breakfast. I’m going straight to the Conservatory and spilling all my darkest secrets to that chunk of rock, hoping the Mother of Chaos will deliver me across the universe to find my sister.
“What statue, Milady?” The knight’s eyes widen in confusion.
“Please call me Shay. I can’t bear the formalities any longer, and I need a friend. You’ll do for now.”
The knight’s chest expands as he takes on this new, albeit hefty task. “Yes, Milady. I mean, Shay.”
“Will you bring me to the dining hall?” I ask. “I assume the others are eating breakfast already.”
“The others are already at the training grounds, Milady.”
I inhale a sharp breath, which feels like ice burning up my lungs. “And why was I left behind?”
“Because the God of Dreams commanded that you be allowed to sleep for as long as you’d like.”
“Did he now?” I laugh haughtily, clenching my fists and resisting the urge to scream. Of course he wanted me to sleep. How else was he supposed to infiltrate my mind? “Change of plans. Lead me to the Conservatory,” I say.
The knight blinks at me, dumbstruck.
“Please,” I add for good measure.
“But what about breakfast, Milady?” he asks.
“I’m no longer hungry,” I tell him.
Hesitantly, the knight leads me around the corner, down a narrow hallway decorated in edgy basalt walls and black granite flooring.
Here, lifeless statues stare back at us behind cold, vacant eyes.
I imagine they must be tributes to the gods who died during the War of the Wraiths, given their ornamental battle armor and those timeless weapons clenched in each of their iron fists.
My curiosity must outweigh my terror, because without thinking, I reach out and touch one’s chest plate, only to be met by the whisper of a lost soul tickling along the back of my neck.
This place is haunted. I can feel it in my bones.
“Where are we?” I ask as another chill sails down my spine.
“We’re in the Hall of Fallen Heroes, Milady,” the knight says.
“This isn’t the right way to the Conservatory,” I recall, thinking back on the route that Regent had paved just yesterday. “In fact, the way to the Conservatory is through the study. There’s a trap door behind a bookshelf and…” I drift off as the knight approaches a door.
The iron giant of a door is as thick as it is wide, with a serpentine-shaped doorknob coiling into a venomous snake with emerald eyes. “The castle changes every day, Milady,” the knight says with a hand on the hilt of his blade, his gaze swinging between me and the doorknob.
“What do you mean the castle changes every day?” I ask.