Chapter 3
Iflinched as the gates groaned shut, the clang reverberating through my ribs. My hand tightened around the hilt of my dagger as I moved.
The castle hadn’t been built. It had bloomed. The walls curved instead of cut, pale marble veined with gold, balconies tangled in vines of burgundy and bronze. The roots of this place ran deep, older than maps, older than warning stories.
Golden-lit windows cast long shadows over the paths, glinting off hedge lines cut too cleanly, terraces polished to unnatural smoothness. Even the dusk-flowers glowed with soft pulses, as if syncing with a heartbeat buried deep beneath the stone.
This wasn’t a place bought with coin. It was built on fear, and it wore power like perfume. And Varyth—the fae I had blindly followed through the forest—walked ahead like he’d never once questioned his place in it.
Mist coiled across the stone walkways, crawled over my boots, whispered around my calves.
Varyth moved through it untouched, the swirling vapour parting effortlessly before him.
“Do you understand now?” he asked.
I stiffened. “Understand what?”
There was a smile waiting in his mouth, but none of it reached his eyes.
“Whose mercy you are at.”
I stopped walking. Mireth laughed, bright and unaware, perched on his shoulders. A weightless, innocent thing in the arms of power.
My knuckles ached against the hilt of my blade.
Gods, he had my daughter.
I had followed him through the woods.
I had—
What the fuck had I done?
My blood thundered so loud it blotted out thought. There was only one command left. Run.
When Varyth noticed my hesitation, he took another few steps before finally pausing.
“What exactly is your plan, then?” He turned to face me as he exhaled a short, impatient breath. “Return to the woods? Wander until something else finds you?”
I took a step back. I had no plan. Just instinct, survival. And even that was fraying.
Varyth ran a hand through his ash-coloured hair as he turned his face skyward, perhaps a silent plea for patience. “I am not going to hurt you.”
“And I should just believe that?”
“You don’t have much of a choice.”
I knew that. I hated that I knew that. I gritted my teeth.
I could turn back, take my chances in the woods. I had survived worse. But the sight of Mireth finally smiling, the exhaustion in Eryx’s tiny body as he dozed in my arms, made the choice for me.
I took a single step forward.
Varyth didn’t react. He merely watched, waited.
Mireth’s laughter echoed through me. A sound I hadn’t heard in months.
Another step.
Varyth turned and began walking once more. The doors to the castle were already open. The lord didn’t slow his stride as he crossed the threshold, his golden wings tucking in as he stepped into the dimly lit entrance hall. He didn’t check to see if I was following.
The moment I stepped inside, the doors sealed shut behind me with a quiet click. But the sound wasn’t soft in my bones. It was deafening.
Beneath my boots, the stone gleamed dark and veined with gold. Lanterns hung above like captive stars, casting halos of light across high archways and etched columns.
Fae passed along the edges of my vision, gliding silently, bearing books, trays, and folded linens.
Varyth glanced over his shoulder. His gaze raked over my grip on the blade.
“Still clutching that blade like it’ll save you?” His voice was threaded mockery.
I blinked and looked down—my grip was white-knuckled around the hilt.
“I find it’s better to be prepared.”
Varyth hummed, considering, “Prepared for what, exactly?”
My jaw tightened. “You tell me.”
His lips parted in the barest suggestion of a grin, the expression more threat than joy.
Varyth led me through the corridors without another word, his strides unhurried, his wings shifting with each movement. He pushed open a door, revealing a room that, at first glance, was unexpectedly… inviting.
A library. The scent of aged parchment and ink wafted through the air, mixed with the faint traces of cedar. A fire burned low in the hearth, casting its glow across the room. The golden light caught against rows upon rows of towering bookshelves, their contents meticulously arranged.
Several plush lounges and armchairs were scattered around the space, worn just enough to suggest use.
It was a place of knowledge. Of order.
Varyth stepped inside and set Mireth down. She dashed back to my arms.
“Sit,” he said, as though it were a courtesy.
I didn’t.
He didn’t press, only sank into one of the armchairs with liquid grace, wings draping as he lounged.
The door opened again.
The woman who entered couldn’t have been more different from him.
Where Varyth was cold restraint, she was warmth contained.
She was petite, her presence not demanding, but steady, sure. There was a confidence in the way she carried herself, in the way her gaze swept over me before settling on the children.
Her hair was styled in a long, pastel pink braid. A few loose strands framed a face that could have been crafted by compassion itself. The ease of her smile settled the worst of my fear before I could think better of it.
Every detail of her appearance, from the delicate embroidery at her neckline to the sway of her sky-blue dress, spoke of someone who valued the beauty of simplicity.
“You must be exhausted.” Her eyes, the pale green of olive blossoms, flicked between me and the little forms in my arms. “I can lay the boy down in a cot in the next room. And if your daughter would like, I can take her to wash up.”
My grip on Eryx tightened instinctively. Mireth looked up at me, blinking sleepily.
I hesitated. Just for a moment.
But my arms ached from holding Eryx for so long, and Mireth’s clothes were stained with dirt, her face streaked from the long journey.
“Lira will care for the children. No harm will come to them.” There was no comfort in the way Varyth said it. Just fact.
“If you prefer to go with them, you can. We can speak later,” he added. “But within these walls, they are safe.”
I looked back at Lira. And exhaustion whispered that maybe, just this once, I could believe them.
Reluctantly, I nodded. Lira stepped forward with gentle movements and lifted Eryx from my arms. Mireth followed her. She paused only once at the door to glance back at me.
I forced a small smile. “I’ll be here, love.”
She nodded and followed Lira out of the room. The door closed behind them, and I released a slow breath.
Varyth gestured again. “Sit.”
This time, I did.
I lowered myself into the plush chair across from him. The cushions sank beneath my weight. A sigh slipped past my lips before my mind could stop it.
Gods.
When was the last time I let myself rest? When something didn’t scrape or ache or press too hard against my skin?
He was watching me. For a moment, I let myself really look back.
His face was… unnerving in its precision.
A square jaw, sharp and elegant beneath skin that was pale as moonlight, smooth and unmarred.
A straight, regal nose. His cheekbones were carved high and proud, shadowed just enough by the firelight to make him seem more statue than man.
He was clean-shaven, and not a single strand of ashen hair was out of place, swept back from his forehead in a style that felt deliberately effortless. He was beautiful in that dangerous way predators were beautiful. A thing crafted to captivate and kill.
“What is your name?” he asked.
“Isara.” I didn’t see the point in lying.
“I am Varyth,” he said smoothly. “High Lord of Luceren, whether that means anything to you or not.”
I absorbed the information carefully, my fingers idly running along the worn hilt of my dagger.
“A High Lord,” I echoed, my voice measured. “Is that… like a king?”
A sneer tugged at his lips. “Don’t degrade me with your human comparisons.” With a roll of his eyes, he added, “But if your mind lacks the ability to understand, I suppose it’s closest to that.”
I frowned, processing his response, though his contempt left me with more questions than answers.
“And you,” he said, his gaze piercing. “How is it you came to be here?”
“We were being chased,” I said, my answer clipped. “By soldiers who would not stop until they captured us.”
“And what, exactly, did you do to invite such enthusiasm?”
A chill crept over me as I recalled the months of fear, of running. My family’s final moments flashed through my mind.
“The king of my lands is… cruel.” I chose my words with care. “He hunts those he deems a threat. As for me…” My throat tightened. “My family was once nobility. And to him, that makes us dangerous.”
“And if they had caught you?”
I forced myself to look at Varyth, even as the memories clawed at me. “The women.” I swallowed. “They’re sold.” My voice trembled, but I pushed through. “And the children… The children are sent to labour camps.”
As I spoke, I noticed a shadow cross Varyth’s face, a flash of something quick and raw, gone before I could place it.
“So,” Varyth said at last. “You ran. And when you had nowhere left to go, you crossed the Veil.”
A slow exhale left me before I nodded. “It was a last resort. A better alternative to death.”
“And yet.” His fingers tapped once against the arm of his chair. “Death remains a possibility here.”
A cold prickle traced down my spine.
I dug my fingers into the armrest, but there was nothing to hold onto. Nothing solid. The chair was soft. Too soft. Like it wanted to swallow me whole.
He leaned back, wings draped over the chair. “Unless you prove useful.”
I didn’t need to ask.
“I don’t expect favours, High Lord,” I said, “Just a chance to protect my children.”
His gaze swept over me. Searching for something I couldn’t see. Something I wasn’t sure I possessed.
Finally, he spoke, his tone cool. “Do you understand what you’ve done by crossing that border?”
“All I know are the stories of my people,” I said, “But yes, I knew.”