The Lion’s Den
Daphne
The Lion’s Den
Aloud knock on the door woke me up. Instinctively, I tried to crawl out of bed, but a sharp pain in my neck made me gasp.
Wait a minute—
It all started coming back. My escape attempt, the demons…
And Emrys.
Startled, I looked around. I was lying in a bed with a burgundy velvet canopy above me. A soft comforter covered me. Gentle morning light trickled through the stained windows. The sheets smelled of dust and dried lavender.
Sweet Mary and Joseph! There was a linen bandage around my neck. So it wasn’t a nightmare!
The door knocks grew more insistent.
“Miss Draymoore,” an unfamiliar male voice called from the other side. “Breakfast is ready. And this tray is damned heavy!”
I pulled the comforter aside and crawled out of bed. My head spun as I walked to the door, the oak parquet creaking beneath my bare feet. The dress Vexley had given me was crusted with blood. Cautiously, I cracked the door open.
A tall man with an eye patch was balancing a silver tray on his knee, his hand still raised to knock. His warm brown eye crinkled when he saw me.
“Good, you’re already up. The tea’s getting cold. May I come in?”
I barely moved aside as he swept past me, his long black braid brushing my shoulder. The scent of warm food made my stomach growl. Jesus, I hadn’t eaten properly in ages.
He was wearing a livery made of black silk. Mysterious symbols were tattooed along his neck and onto the shaved sides of his skull. They barely concealed a terrible scar around his throat.
He caught my gaze lingering on the scar.
“It was worse than it looks.” He winked and set the tray on the bed. Then he crossed to the fireplace and tossed a log in.
“So this is the woman who brought a legion of Hollowborn to our doorstep!” he said, poking the fire.
My hands instinctively covered my throat.
“Hollowborn?” I asked.
He walked over to me, his single eye narrowing with an unnatural, foxlike sharpness.
“My, my, Lord Emrys was right. Vexley and the Renegade really sent you here clueless. Well,” he said, “I’m sure Emrys will explain.”
He rose, straightening his immaculate livery.
“How’s your wound?” His voice dropped to something close to concern. “A scratch like this can give you a nasty infection. Emrys treated it, but keep an eye out for any fever.”
I opened my mouth to ask a question, but the strange man hurried to the door.
“When you feel like it, go speak to Emrys. He spends his mornings in the greenhouse, tending to the flowers. He might use the company.”
A brief shadow veiled his stern features.
Did I hear wrong—our monster had picked up a gardening hobby?
Saying nothing else, he headed to the door.
“Wait,” I said, unsure what I was supposed to do. “Who are you? Are you a friend of his?”
He paused, his hand on the doorknob.
“Excuse my manners. We don’t get many visitors. You can call me Liang. Wei Liang. And I’m someone who owes him a life debt. He saved me when I was a child.”
His fingers tapped the cruel scar over his throat.
“Since then, I’ve been a butler, a friend, a bodyguard—anything he needs me to be. Oh, and one more thing: when you wander around, don’t be scared of the manor’s tricks. It has the annoying habit of taking you where it needs you, not where you want to go.”
The door clicked shut. I listened intently yet heard no lock.
I exhaled and dashed to the tray.
What hand had I been dealt? I wondered while spreading butter over the warm toast with shaking fingers.
Sweet Mother Mary, what a feast this was!
There was hot tea, slices of cheese, an apple, crispy bacon, boiled eggs, and—oh my—scones with strawberry jam!
It had been ages since I had seen so much food.
When there was nothing left but crumbs, the world seemed much brighter.
This lion’s den was not too bad compared to my home—and the purgatory Arthur locked me up in.
I needed a plan, I thought, warming my hands on the fire.
With my belly full and my strength returning, with timid daylight casting colorful specks over the wooden floor, I was ready to meet any challenge.
I hadn’t failed. Not yet.
If I got on Emrys’s good side, there might be a way to find more clues.
Sooner or later, I would walk out of here. Free.
Hell, I might even sneak past Vexley’s men and the monsters! Those Hollowborn seemed to appear only at night.
Humming, I paced around, inspecting the rest of the room.
There was a vanity table littered with dusty perfume bottles and hairbrushes.
Who had lived here? I wondered, heading to investigate the door in the far corner.
Warmth hugged me when I opened it.
Deep green tiled walls gleamed in the flickering light of gas sconces, casting shadows over the porcelain tub at the center of the room. A brass pipe ran along its side.
A bath!
A real bath—not the torture chamber in St. Dismas or the complicated affair of buckets and freezing tin basins at home.
I turned on the porcelain-handled tap, and hot water rushed forth, steam curling into the air.
Shedding my crusty dress, I stepped in and let the heat wrap around me.
I sank deeper, muscles loosening, the grime of St. Dismas peeling away.
Bottles scented with black sage, bergamot, and vanilla stood at the tub’s edge, and I dropped a few precious drops into the water. The sharp, fresh scent made me sneeze.
A bronze tray sat beside them—a faceted decanter of brandy, a small dish of sugared violets. Nearby, fresh linens waited: thick and clean.
Things were not that bad, I thought, soaking with a silly smile.
If I played my cards right, I might win my freedom back.
I had a plan.
Get on the good side of Emrys.
Find as much information as possible.
Collect more clues about the ley lines.
Then, in the worst case, bring the papers I already had to Vexley and the Renegade and bargain.
In the best case, I’d find a way out of here and run.
Cagliostro’s threat and his mark seemed like vague problems now, fading into the scented steam and the daylight. Maybe it was just some village magician’s trick to scare me?
“One by one, Daphne,” I whispered. “You’ll survive. You’ve been dealing with monsters all your life.” I leaned back and started humming.
When the water started cooling, I stepped out of the tub and wrapped myself in a linen.
I frowned at the bloodstained dress on the floor and walked to the large dresser near the fireplace. It was made of ancient oak, with brass hinges shaped like curling vines. A faint scent of lavender and a swarm of moths rushed out when I opened it.
The woman who lived here had a wardrobe worthy of a queen. And impeccable taste. Some dresses were too opulent for my taste and outdated, but some simple everyday pieces were timeless.
I picked a plain purple cotton dress with pearl buttons running all the way up my throat.
It was wide in the waist, but I appreciated the freedom to move without a restraining corset.
Brushing my short hair with my fingers, I twirled in front of the old mirror with its dark edges.
Warmth filled my chest.
Something I’d nearly forgotten: hope.
A rustling of fabric behind me made me whip my head around.
My lips trembled. When I looked, there was nothing, just speckles of dust dancing in the colorful light from the stained windows.
Still, the pressure in the air shifted. My ears popped.
When I returned my gaze to the mirror, I caught a flash of movement behind me.
Was it my imagination—or was there a pale woman with gray hair and sad eyes watching me?
Did she wear the same dress? Strange, there was no threat coming from her. Just infinite sadness.
I shook my head.
Ghosts couldn’t hurt me.
Hollowborn, though, and diabolical men like the doctor, the Renegade, and my brother could.
Shadows couldn’t stop me.
But locks and merciless fists might.
Emrys was treating me well so far, even if he saw through my lies.
That was better than I’d hoped.
Still—trusting a man, after everything I’d been through, would be na?ve. I couldn’t shake off the feeling that there was a bigger game at play. I wouldn’t be a pawn this time.
He was in the greenhouse, Liang said.
Excellent.
This was my chance to explore the place alone—and perhaps even find the study he mentioned yesterday.
I took a small notebook and a pencil from the bedside table before I left.
“Useful,” I murmured, leafing through the pages.
The first ones were covered in hasty notes. The words swirled and danced before my eyes, like always when I read. My finger traced the writing, my lips moving soundlessly with each word. Some were scribbled in a shaky, frantic handwriting:
I can’t do this anymore
He will bring doom to us all
The woman in the lake took Jenny
I blinked a few times to make sure the letters weren’t deceiving me.
This manor had a mind of its own. And plenty of mysteries.
I ignored the chills running down my back and focused on my task.
Straightening the soft fabric of my dress, I headed to the door.
Time to find this greenhouse.