CHAPTER NINE
Piercing sunlight jolted me awake to find my head throbbing and my entire body aching with the memory of my agony. Worse still was the pain punching my heart. Garrick.
I scanned the stone-walled room I occupied, with no visible entrances and exits but a high window letting in light from an overcast day, and a single wood door. On my right was a chair resting before an unlit fireplace, lending to the room’s chilly atmosphere. To my left was an open entryway leading to a windowless washroom with a copper tub. Glancing down at the bed I was reclined on, I found fur blankets draped over me. My boots rested on the floor at my bedside, but there was no sign of the knife I’d possessed. Either it remained in the cabin where I’d left it, or the royals had confiscated it.
My shackles were gone, but I could still feel phantom pain. Perhaps the forget-me-nots’ effects lingered even after they’d been removed from someone’s skin. I didn’t want to test this theory, as, enclosed in this room as I was, the only person who would hurt from my ice and snow would be me.
I sat up, blinking as the world lurched, and scanned my surroundings more intently. Was the door locked? If they’d left me unrestrained, it seemed too much to hope that the Silverfrosts hadn’t left me guarded.
Footsteps echoed outside as if in answer to my questions. A bolt slid free, and the door swung inward. I gaped at the figure in the doorway, his white-blond hair contrasting sharply with the brightness of his gold eyes. His jaw was taut, all warmth leached from his features. Perhaps the charming, loyal, gentle man I’d known, the one who’d confessed to loneliness, the one who’d made self-deprecating jests about his weaknesses, didn’t exist. Maybe this cold hunter was the true man.
Renewed pain flared in my chest. “You.”
Ignoring me, Garrick kicked the door shut behind him and strode silently across the floor, settling himself on the edge of the bed. It wasn’t until he sat that I noticed the bag he carried. Resting it on the bed between us, he withdrew a jar of ointment.
I gritted my teeth, my eyes darting over his shoulder toward the door. Foolish, I thought. There were likely guards waiting for me out there, not to mention miles of frigid mountains and no guarantee I could find the Ashwood kingdom by myself, let alone that its people would welcome me.
Not to mention Garrick’s icy presence.
King Preston’s words echoed in my head. Resisting and running will only give us reason to let our dog chase you again. And he does so love to hunt.
I’d always survived by being unobtrusive, but if I refused this fight, I’d be resigning myself to a lifetime of slavery and cruelty. Or torture. The image of Queen Nerissa and that bloody finger haunted me.
Without letting myself overthink it, I launched from the bed. The world spun and my steps fumbled as I slid on stockinged feet across a cool stone floor, charging for the door I prayed was still unlocked. I didn’t feel any cold chills or other indications of my magic brewing, and I was unarmed and in an unfamiliar place. But I couldn’t just lie down and give in to this nightmarish existence. Not without trying to find something better...
Warm hands seized my wrists just as I reached the door. My breath caught in my throat as Garrick whirled me around to face him, pressing my back against the wood. His face was inches from mine, his gold eyes bright with emotion for the first time. I thought it might be fury.
“Not a good idea,” he growled, locking my arms on either side of me, his fingers firm on my wrists. He had me hemmed in, his chest rising and falling unevenly, so close it pressed into mine. I knew chasing me hadn’t winded him at all.
He was breathless with his anger.
I wished for magic that didn’t come, longed for the cool touch of my ice to temper the heat from Garrick’s body encasing me. Wished I could entrap him the way I’d stopped the winged fae the night before.
But I couldn’t fight back, couldn’t resist. Instead, dizziness struck again, and my vision blurred. I swayed unsteadily on my feet, trying and failing to speak. All that came out was a groan of protest as Garrick lifted me effortlessly in his arms and carried me back toward the bed. My heart plunged into my stomach as the familiar scents of mountain air, leather, and fur filled my nose, reminding me of when Garrick had carried me to help me. Not to trap me, as he was now.
And yet his touch was as gentle as ever, a sharp contrast to the unfeeling look on his face.
“You’re injured and weak from the shackles,” Garrick said, his tone still guttural. It reminded me that he was a wolf shifter. Animalistic. A heartless hunter loyal to his wicked king and queen. “Running would encourage them to play with you more, to hurt you. And if you did somehow escape the castle? It would be suicide.”
He lowered me onto the bed, hovering over me as he searched my face.
“Says the man who turned me into those...revolting creatures,” I managed, still breathless from my exertion when my muscles remained weak and achy. “It seems...you want me to die. I thought you were better than the fae who use and abuse humans...but you’re just an animal with...a predator’s instincts. All along, you were tricking me so you could be the bounty hunter that brought me to them.” My voice cracked.
A muscle jumped in Garrick’s jaw. Something flashed in those gold eyes—and then vanished, replaced with a blank look concealing all emotion. “You don’t know what I am.” Without pulling back, he brushed strands of silver hair out of my face and off my neck, revealing the place the winged fae had bitten me. It still stung, though the blood had long crusted over my wound. “Hold still so I can tend to you.”
“I don’t want you touching me.”
Garrick leaned forward even closer, his nose brushing mine. My heart jumped into my throat, my throbbing pulse so violent I was sure he could hear it. I glared at him, but he didn’t let my expression affect the stony look on his face. “Would you prefer I fetch the king and ask him to treat your wounds?”
I shuddered, and Garrick pulled back to retrieve the ointment. “As I thought,” he muttered.
“Isn’t there a servant to do this?” I demanded as I sat up, turning my head away so as to avoid his eyes as he brushed the ointment over my neck with a calloused finger. Every brush of his skin against mine stirred a jolt of energy and heat. Though I wanted to forget my foolish earlier feelings for this man and lose myself in the bitter sense of betrayal, I couldn’t ignore my attraction quite so easily, not when his touches were tender and attentive. They reminded me of the good-hearted, conscientious man I’d thought he was. The one I’d trusted and felt safe with, the one I ached to have by my side now.
“The king and queen sent me,” Garrick said simply.
He settled closer to inspect the back of my head, brushing aside strands of hair to find the lump Preston had left when knocking me unconscious. I hissed when his fingers touched it, then immediately clamped my lips closed, not wanting him to know how much I hurt. Any sign of weakness, any symptom of the broken pieces I’d shattered into, would be something a fae would happily exploit.
If only I’d been this cautious of my heart before, when I’d been alone and eager to listen to Garrick’s own story of solitude and loneliness.
“You would probably do better cleaning this on your own,” Garrick said stiffly. “I can draw a bath for you, let you wash your hair. I’ll apply the ointment afterward and add more to your neck. What I already used should dull the pain somewhat.”
I shot him a look before my eyes flicked to the open washroom. “I’m not bathing with you here.”
Garrick sat back, lifting his hands in surrender. “I won’t look.”
Scoffing, I turned away. “And I’m to trust your word now? You aren’t a gentleman. You’re a fae. A deceitful, lying scoundrel—”
“I cannot lie, Ren.” It was jolting to hear him call me Ren and not by his nickname for me.
I scowled. “You lied by withholding the truth.” Daring to meet his eyes, I sought any sign of remorse, any hint of feeling at all behind that cold mask he wore. Nothing. “What is the purpose of tending to my injuries? I’ve been told they torment and wound humans for sport. Or am I being trussed up before I’m executed?”
Garrick looked away, and I wondered at his unwillingness to look into my face. He couldn’t lie, but he could omit things. What did he have to hide this time? “As far as I know, the king and queen have no wish to kill you currently. They ordered me to tend to you, to ensure you’re cleaned up for a feast. They will present you to their court.”
I threaded my fingers together in my lap, trying to still their trembling. “As their new plaything?”
“I don’t know their plans, as I am not in their confidence.”
Inhaling deeply, I forced myself to ask the question that haunted me, the one I feared would only have painful answers. “Why did you do it?” Tears swam in my eyes, blurring my vision. “You told me you don’t agree with how the king and queen treat humans. Why did you betray me?”
Garrick remained stoic, not reacting when a tear slipped freely down my cheek. Like he’d never cared. “I am their obedient hunter and servant.” It sounded rehearsed, as if he’d told countless others he’d tracked down for the royals this very same thing.
“You serve a woman who murdered her subject and cut his finger off like it was a trophy,” I whispered, my voice shaking with disgust. I studied him again, taking in his broad, muscled frame, the stubble on his square jaw, the absence of emotion in his gold eyes. “Or is that what you are too? A careless murderer of your own kind?” I swallowed back my rising bile. “Did she have you kill him for her?”
His expression was stony. “The Silverfrosts aren’t like the rest of us. They are powerful. Our rulers. The highest of fae-kind. It’s our responsibility as their citizens to obey them, and it’s their right as our king and queen to punish us if we do not.”
“They’re monsters.”
Darkness seeped into Garrick’s gaze, the first hint of emotion. His tone pitched low. “And have you forgotten what I am?”
I swallowed thickly, remembering how at first, the idea of him shifting into a wolf had terrified me. How quickly—and foolishly—I’d grown comfortable with him, trusting him. Thinking he would only protect me and never hurt me. But he’d only ever defended me from the other fae so he could have the honor of taking me to his king and queen himself. All along, he’d been hunting me. Fooling me. Using me.
“Why did you come to the ball in Altidvale?” I asked hoarsely. Garrick couldn’t lie, but had he twisted the truth in some way when he’d spoken of coming for entertainment? Hadn’t he first told me he’d been in the area on business? Had the Silverfrosts somehow known I had magic and wanted me even before Charles had offered me to them?
But Garrick shook his head, as if reading my thoughts. “If you think King Preston and Queen Nerissa sent me to find you that night, you’re wrong. They didn’t know you existed until Charles offered you to them. It wasn’t until then...when you told me what he’d done...that I knew they’d send fae to find you. That’s when I knew they’d expect me to bring you to them.”
Pain pierced my chest to hear him speak of the transaction so plainly.
Before I could collect my thoughts, Garrick stood abruptly, turning so his back was to me. “I’ll prepare your bath. It’s nearly noon, and we don’t have long. Their feasts begin early and continue long into the night. It wouldn’t do for you to be late and...upset them. Don’t try to run again. There are guards in the hall who will stop you nearly as easily as I did.”
He strode into the washroom without another word, leaving me to seethe on the bed. When I heard water running, somehow trickling from some faucet in the washroom that made me wonder if the fae had wells inside their castle, I stood cautiously and tested my balance. The world swayed, my head pounded, and nausea swept over me in waves, but it was manageable. True to Garrick’s word, the pain in my neck had already dulled too, leaving only my headache and strained muscles to plague me. I crept toward the window, peering out onto a frosty, unforgiving world.
Beyond the foreboding stone wall encircling the castle, the mountainside descended in a pure white sheet toward clusters of pines and mist. More mountains rose on the horizon, breathtakingly beautiful and gilded by the sunlight. Far below, tucked between the mountain I was on and the next, there was a city, idyllic and peaceful where it settled beside a glistening lake. From this height, I could just make out puffs of chimney smoke rising from the buildings, all painted in cheerful shades of pale yellow and blue and green, as if the city’s inhabitants were determined to bring color in their world of white.
It was startling how peaceful it appeared, a city of fae I’d been taught were vicious. A city in the shadow of a fortress-like castle belonging to terrible fae. Ones who were worse even than the stories portrayed them.
And I was trapped, their newest plaything with an unknown destiny. Cursed to a life of torment.
I couldn’t climb out of the window, even if I thought Garrick wouldn’t stop me before I made my way over the sill. The sheer drop from my room to the courtyard below told me I was several stories up.
Doomed. Tears pricked my eyes, but I swallowed back the urge to cry once more. I didn’t want Garrick to see me break again, not when he’d only watch me coldly.
My mind ran through my options. If I had fae blood that granted me magic, I wondered if it meant I also possessed glamour. If I could command Garrick, I’d have the might of a wolf on my side. Maybe I could order him to tear out my attackers’ throats and lead me to safety.
I both hated and loved the thought.
“Your bath is ready,” came Garrick’s voice, pulling me from my thoughts.
I whirled, finding him leaning against the washroom entryway. His face remained chiseled from stone, though there was a more casual air about him that reminded me of the more carefree man I’d met. Now I realized it had all been an act. He’d made himself charming, made himself into the type of man I’d begin to fall for. He’d seen my loneliness and preyed upon it. Preston’s words again echoed in my head. He does so love to hunt.
“I don’t see why they won’t lock me in their dungeons and be done with it.” I lifted my bare wrists. “Why remove my shackles? Why give me a room and send you to help me heal? Why invite me to a feast?”
Garrick’s eyes were hard. “I already told you, I don’t know their plans.”
“Why did they send you?”
He shrugged.
“When you call yourself their obedient dog, does that mean you never ask questions or wonder about their intentions?”
Garrick flinched, avoiding my gaze. I’d hit my mark. “Bathe, before you’re late and there are consequences,” he said instead, storming away from the washroom. Toward me.
I laughed bitterly. “What more can they do to me?”
“You have no idea what they can do,” Garrick snarled, leaning closer. “No inkling of the hell they can inflict on their living subjects.”
For a long moment, we stared at one another. My pulse beat in my ears, and the world continued to sway. My aching head was dizzy and light. I had to escape.
Praying my glamour would come naturally to me, I made an attempt to use it. “I command you to help me escape,” I said, dropping my voice into something I hoped sounded alluring and irresistible.
Garrick stared, a furrow forming between his brows. “What?”
My heart dropped. “I command you—”
He cut me off. “Your powers won’t work here. The king and queen used blood from your wounds to place an enchantment on this room that prevents you from accessing any of your magic. Or your glamour.”
“But I can use my powers in other parts of the castle?”
The shifter glanced away, but his silence was confirmation enough. He couldn’t lie and didn’t want to admit the truth. That knowledge gave me hope, even if it was brittle.
With that possibility in mind, I relented, pushing past Garrick to enter the washroom. I would bathe and attend the Silverfrosts’ feast. I’d feign obedience and weakness. I’d play the role of quiet, good, unobtrusive Florentia once more. And when they least suspected it, I’d find a way to fight back. “Turn around,” I called to Garrick as soon as I stood before the tub.
Garrick shook his head, though I watched as he turned his back to me, staring out the window. “I’m not here to seduce you.”
“You wouldn’t succeed if you tried.” I peeled off my tunic and leggings and submerged myself into the tub.
A hiss escaped me. It was hot, a layer of steam rising from its surface. Some lavender soap rested nearby, its soothing aroma fresh and lovely. I inhaled deeply, willing the scent and the sensation of blissful warmth enveloping me to melt away my pain, defeat, and fear. If only for a moment.
As if Garrick had heard my surprise when I climbed into the tub, he explained how the water and heat worked. “There are a few fae from Ravenheart who made their home here, and they’re gifted with fire. They’re able to keep the water warm, while those Silverfrosts who control water help direct water into our pipes. I’m told every kingdom in Brytwilde has such luxuries, but you mortals do not.”
“We mortals are forced to go without many things,” I muttered under my breath.
As comforting as the bath was, tempting me to linger and pretend I wasn’t a prisoner to two monstrous immortals, I heeded Garrick’s earlier warning not to waste time. I hurriedly scrubbed my skin and washed my hair, cleaning the crusted blood off my neck and the back of my head.
The door swung open, and footsteps pattered about my room. I glanced over the edge of the tub to find two human women dressed like maids—though I’d always been told the Silverfrosts kept slaves—darting around. One laid a dress on the bed, while the other built up the fire and exchanged quiet words with Garrick, too low for me to hear. They showed no signs of wounds or even malnutrition, but their eyes were eerily glassy with glamour. I could hardly stand to look them in their faces. They were prisoners as much as I was.
As swiftly as they’d arrived, they swept back out of the room.
“You need to hurry,” Garrick said to the window.
I frowned. Quiet. Obedient. Don’t let them know you’re dreaming of a way to escape, I reminded myself. I’d play their game for my own survival. And I’d win. I had to.
Determined, I stood, setting one leg out of the tub. But I’d risen too swiftly, and my shaking limbs and pounding head rewarded me with a wave of dizziness. I cried out, barely managing to catch the edge of the tub with one hand as I slid toward the slick tile floor.
Warm hands caught my waist, callouses scratching against my bare skin. I choked on a gasp.
“Don’t look at me!” I cried out as Garrick lifted me.
“I’m not looking below your eyes,” he grunted, heaving me up until we were face to face.
Despite the steam still curling through the air and the heat of his hands burning through me, gooseflesh rose on my skin. I wanted to be embarrassed or ashamed, but Garrick couldn’t lie, and his eyes remained fixed on mine.
This time, there were emotions churning in his gaze—an entire storm that I couldn’t begin to sift through.
“Are you hurt?” His breath caressed my face as he leaned forward, brushing his thumb over my cheek. His touch was gentle, his gaze warm, and I ached for the man I’d thought I’d known to be genuine. For this to not be only a trick, a mere mask.
I so wanted the look of concern, of wanting, in those searing gold eyes to be real.
But if he’d fooled me before with behaving as if he cared, he could do so again.
“I’m fine,” I said, shoving back and teetering dangerously again. He caught my wrist, his eyes still fixed on my face. “Leave—please!”
Garrick blinked, a muscle working in his jaw. He drew back slowly, as if coming out of a trance. Or letting his pretenses fall away to reveal his true feelings. Cold and distant again, he looked at the ceiling. “You’re not going to fall and break your neck before the feast, are you?”
“I’m fine,” I repeated, hurriedly seizing the towel from a shelf near the tub and wrapping it around my body. Though Garrick had kept his word and I never once saw his eyes stray, I felt a semblance of relief with the cloth over me, even if it left far too much of my legs bare.
“The maids will return to help you dress, and they’ll bring a medicinal tea for the dizziness. And some food—you must be starving, which doesn’t help with those feelings of weakness. They’ll tend to your head injury while they fix your hair, but I’ll apply another layer of ointment to your neck again. How does it feel?”
The pain had dulled even further, leaving it almost numb. “Why not wait until they’ve dressed me?” I demanded, feeling scandalized. “Or better yet, let the maids do it?”
Garrick’s gaze was piercing. “I was ordered to personally ensure you’re all right. Though the blow to your head is causing your unsteadiness, I’m more concerned about possible venom in the bite on your neck. I can leave the maids to deal with the rest.”
“Venom?”
“No reason to fret. We’ve cleaned and tended to it swiftly, and you’re not showing any worrisome symptoms. But best to be sure. Come,” he said impatiently.
I strode out of the washroom, trailing droplets of water. Sitting rigidly in a chair before the fireplace, where a fire now roared pleasantly, I held my breath as Garrick brought over his bag.
Carefully, he tugged my soaked hair off my neck, trailing his fingers over my bite wound. My lack of pain made me hyperaware of his skin on mine as he rubbed another layer of ointment into the punctures. His fingers lingered over my racing pulse, and I prayed he didn’t sense it. Didn’t know he still had an effect on me. Didn’t realize my foolish heart couldn’t forget the growing feelings I’d been harboring.
Traitor. Liar. Hunter. Killer. Captor. I listed all the reasons I had to not trust his tenderness, to banish all memories of the man I’d thought he was.
And when he strode out of the room, leaving the maids to flock in and dress me in fae clothes for a feast hosted by my captives, it was easier to remember why I needed to distrust and hate him.