The Unbidden
Daphne
Just like Liang warned me, the manor had rearranged itself. My room opened onto a corridor I had never seen before. I tried to find the entrance hall from the night before, determined to search the lower floor for Emrys’s study. I needed more than postcards and drawings to bargain for my freedom.
But like in an enchanted maze, the corridors made unexpected turns, leading to bedrooms and halls I could swear had appeared from thin air.
I thought my room was on the second floor, but the narrow oak walls and red-carpeted floors led me to another spiraling staircase different from the one at the entrance.
The portraits on the teal-painted walls watched me with disturbingly vivid eyes, unknown lords and ladies smirking at my confusion.
One, two, three floors down. Still no sign of sunlight.
I retraced my steps and noticed droplets of blood on the parquet floor. My blood. So if I followed it, it must lead me back to the main door.
Instead, it led me to a solid wall.
I knocked on the indigo wallpaper, pressing my face against it, trying to catch any noise from beyond. There was only the faint howling of wind through unseen corridors and, somewhere, a lonely piano melody.
“It takes you where it needs you, not where you want to be,” Liang said. Well, that wouldn’t make my task any easier.
I shrugged and followed the stairs deeper. Sunlight filtered from the bottom of the stairwell, and I rushed that way.
It took me to a sun-drenched vestibule, its glass-paned walls flooding the space with bright morning light. A solarium. The scent of warm stone, beeswax polish, and the faintest trace of citrus lingered in the air.
I smiled, pausing for a moment. This manor could be beautiful. Tempting—like a Venus flytrap to a bug. Almost cozy.
Potted ferns lined the corners, their fronds swaying in the draft from the door cracked open. I was tempted to sit down in one of the rush-seated chairs and enjoy the sun.
But I didn’t want to miss my chance to speak to my mysterious captor—or savior, or whatever Emrys was.
“Should I go that way?” I asked the plants and the sun-drenched floor tiles.
The door opened wider.
“So I thought.” I shrugged and stepped into the garden.
The cold struck me at once, filling my lungs with the scent of damp earth and lingering frost. My boots crunched over the gravel path, the remnants of winter giving way to the hesitant bloom of early spring. The timid sun warmed my face.
Just ahead, past the skeletal rose briars and the statue of a weeping angel, stood the greenhouse.
Beyond it stretched a vast gray lake, the morning mist swelling over it like a shroud.
I froze, dread pooling in my gut.
“I see you, Daphne,” the Unbidden whispered in my mind. “Want to go for a swim? Just like before.”
I pressed my fists to my temples. That was the last thing I needed—the Unbidden’s riddles and mockery on top of everything else.
“Shut up. I have no time for your nonsense.”
The greenhouse’s iron framework arched like the ribcage of some great beast, its glass panes misted with condensation. Vibrant green stirred through the fogged glass—leaves pressing against the glass, vines curling along the ironwork.
As I neared, the scent of primroses reached me first, sweet and delicate, mingling with the perfume of damp moss and turned soil, of things growing. Steam curled from the greenhouse’s vented roof, escaping into the cool morning air.
The heavy door was slightly ajar, warmth spilling out into the cold air. A shadow moved among the foliage. My heart climbed into my throat.
Emrys.
I snuck through the door gap and straightened my skirts.
“Oh, you found one of them,” the Unbidden said. “And you want to get on his good side, Daphne?” Its laughter echoed in my brain like bubbles escaping the lips of a drowning man. “Good luck with that.”
“What do you mean by them?” I whispered. Since I started hearing the Unbidden on that fateful night when my parents died, it had never been helpful. Awakening near bodies of water and tormenting me—that was all it was good for.
“You’ll see soon enough, foolish girl.” It withdrew to the murky depths of my mind.
Typical.
Emrys was having a heated conversation with someone, but I couldn’t see with whom.
His broad back in a crisp white shirt was hiding his company.
Before him stood a crumbling marble fountain, decorated with a statue of a nymph.
The calming splash of water and the tender scent of flowers made the place feel serene.
“I told you countless times, Nibble, do not touch the apples. They are for the turtles. Petrus, Flint, here are your pieces.”
I nervously wrung my hands and tried to peek over his shoulders. How many people were there?
“Not Nibble. Call me Shadow,” an odd, squeaky voice from above retorted.
Stepping aside, I saw it—a small brown puppy nestled in the marble basket held by the nymph.
“Not Shadow. Thief is what fits you best. Didn’t Liang feed you already?”
I gasped. That puppy had large, leathery wings!
“Talking about thieves, here’s our guest. Nibble, meet Daphne,” Emrys said without turning around.
The creature pulled its tiny furry ears back and hissed at me.
“It’s a bat,” I murmured, blinking rapidly.
“A fruit bat,” Nibble corrected.
“A talking bat,” I said, trying to wrap my mind around this devilry.
“A fruit—” he opened his foxlike snout, but Emrys interrupted him.
“Yes, yes, Shadow, she got your point. Can you leave us alone now? We have matters to discuss. Go settle somewhere for your day nap.”
“But Petrus and Flint are staying,” he protested, shaking his head in disapproval.
“They’re turtles, Nibble, and not even half as irritating as you. Go to the ivy now and sleep.”
The bat scoffed, stretched his wings, and flew to the far corner of the greenhouse.
“Go on. Try to get on his good side,” the Unbidden cackle sounded like rocks dropping into a cavern lake.
I tucked the strands of my short hair behind my ears.
“Erm…I just wanted to say thank you for saving me last night,” I said, while the questions swarmed in my head like a hive of furious bees.
He turned around and crossed his arms. An amused smile curled his lips.
In the bright daylight, he looked… I licked my dried lips.
He looked less intimidating. Guard your heart, that was one of the Renegade’s warnings, right?
“Where are your wings?” I muttered.
“They appear only when I need them. And a horde of Hollowborn was a damned good reason for summoning them. What the hell were you thinking, that you could just walk out at night and they won’t notice you?” A black eyebrow climbed up, his gray eyes cold like a winter lake.
“Are they always around? Those Hollowborn?” I asked. If I could keep him talking, I might gain his trust.
He suddenly took a short, curved knife from the fountain’s edge, and I stepped back so fast that I stumbled on my dress. To my surprise, he handed me the knife and an apple.
“Here, chop this small. Petrus hates chewing. Yes, they’re always around.”
Swallowing hard, I took the knife and the apple and started slicing it, hiding my trembling fingers.
“They never bother to cross the wards. They don’t need to,” he said, focused on peeling an apple, too.
Dark strands fell over his face, hiding his features, and I wondered if he was joking.
My eyes darted to the straight line of his shoulders, trying to wrap my mind around the idea of wings that could appear whenever he wished.
“Wards?” I asked, tossing a piece of apple to a turtle resting on a round stone in the fountain. Petrus, probably, because it bit the piece and spat it out without bothering to chew.
“Chop it smaller. Wards, yes, those are all around the manor. What kind of thief are you, exactly?” He tossed a piece to a smaller turtle, which I could swear winked at me.
“Wards? Around the manor? To protect you?” I asked casually, encouraged by his answers. It was going better than I hoped.
He lifted his head, chuckling darkly. Did I say something funny?
“Not at all, little thief. The wards are there to keep me in.” His voice dropped dangerously, and shadows rippled like a dark tide over the floor. The sun dimmed for a heartbeat, shadowed by something ancient and powerful.
“Do you see what he is now, Daphne?” the Unbidden cackled. “Isn’t he magnificent? Little humans like you used to worship him in old times. Just like they did me.”
“Do you know him?” I whispered, and he heard me. His eyes narrowed.
How stupid could I be?
“What are you, Emrys?” I asked quickly to distract him.
His laughter, deep, dark and sinful, rolled between the bells of campanulas, bluebells, and snowdrops.
“Those who sent you didn’t tell you? Didn’t warn you?” He stepped toward me, and my stomach dropped. Sweet Mother Mary, how terrifying he was–every dip and swell of his body hinting of barely leashed power.
“They…” My voice broke. “They didn’t.”
His reaction was immediate; he flinched, my horrified face clearly disturbing him. “Well, that’s for you to find out, I guess.” He shrugged and turned his back, his indifference settling too fast to be sincere.
“And those…Hollowborn. What are they?” I pressed. No way I was giving up now when he was opening up.
“They were once men. Powerful, hungry for magic. Some humans have that–they’re born with an affinity for magic.
Born hollow. Their heart craves it, seeks it.
And when they find it, it lingers, you know.
Magic clings to bones and rocks. Theirs remained in their bodies after death, and someone took advantage of that. ”
“Someone? You mean the man who calls himself Cagliostro?”
He tossed another piece of apple to the turtles. “Yes.”
“They’re walking corpses? Driven by some residual magic?” I guessed, realizing how absurd it sounded.
“They’re much more than that, Daphne, but that would be enough to teach you to avoid them.” He wiped his sticky fingers on his black pants and looked around. “Well, time to wish you happy stealing or whatever you’re up to, Miss Daphne.” He prepared to leave.
“Wait, those…Hollowborn–are they around only at night?” I tried to hide the urgency in my voice. And failed miserably.
“Yes and no, Miss Daphne. But if you think you could just walk out of here and go back to your masters, you’re very mistaken.
If you think that they’d keep their deal and give you whatever they promised you, you’re na?ve.
Or plainly stupid.” His eyes turned cold.
“Now, if you’d excuse me, I have places to be.
” He strode to the door, his demeanor completely changed.
Now, he was again the bored, cold lord who enjoyed playing violin.
“You wouldn’t ask what they promised me?” I said, desperate to keep him for a moment longer.
He paused at the door. “What did they promise you?” He halfway turned, his profile framed by golden sunlight.
“Freedom.”
A shadow passed over his face.
I got him. He was probably expecting something mundane, like riches or eternal youth, or whatever evil men with wings offered.
“Seems like we have something in common after all, Miss Daphne. Wish you luck with your bargain with these monsters. And please don’t wake up my bat. He gets cranky when he doesn’t get his daily sleep.” Then, he was gone. I opened my mouth and closed it in dismay. Did I say something wrong?
Sweet Lord, what did I get myself dragged into? Hollowborn, a brooding man with wings, a talking fruit bat and a moody manor.
“How did it go, Daphne?” the Unbidden mocked. “Not so well? Now, do you want to go for a swim? I can show you a way out. But I have a price. You know what I want. What’s been promised to me.”
I scoffed. More than ever, I felt the need to get away. Away from that too-cozy greenhouse. Away from this strange man who turned my certainties into ash.