CHAPTER 4
I followed Cerridwen up the grand staircase to the second floor in silence.
They had instructed me to bathe and rest until dinner, when we would try the conversation again.
I was unscathed, which, for long minutes while the animal bared its teeth at me, I thought I wouldn’t be. It struck painfully hard how reckless I’d been, how truly outmatched I was.
Cerridwen led me down a long hallway. She stopped before one of the many doors, opened it, and gestured for me to enter.
I took in the deep grey walls, the bronze sconces cradling flickering candles. At the heart of one wall stood a bed with a dark frame and cream-white linens, wide enough to accommodate three. A carved mantel loomed on the opposite side.
The room seemed as though it belonged to another time, much like the rest of this place.
Floor-length curtains framed a tall glass window with a view of the evening sky and snow-capped mountains on the horizon. Nearby, a small wooden table rested with two chairs, a carved wardrobe, and a matching dresser next to another door.
“Through that door, you will find the washing chambers. If you need anything, just ask the room,” said Cerridwen, though a glance behind revealed only emptiness where she had stood. She’d left.
I walked towards the window and evaluated the distance to the ground. Too high. I could see guards pacing in the garden outside. Not regular guards, though. A guard with a duck’s beak, and another with a fox’s tail. Others with claws and wings.
What is this place?
I went to open the wardrobe, finding drawers and hangers devoid of any clothes, as a guest bedroom would be.
The door to the washroom creaked open, catching my attention as if inviting me in.
The room was empty, and as I stepped inside, a porcelain tub began to fill with water while a set of soap bars appeared on a standing table.
On my right, a towel and a fresh set of clothes lay neatly upon a wooden cabinet. My clothes from my luggage.
“It can’t be . . .” I murmured under my breath, turning to the tub faucet, which had no knobs. “How do I turn it off?”
The water stopped, and my eyes widened as I watched the remaining contents swirl down the drain. When I turned again, the clothes had vanished.
I took a few steps back until my body hit the cold, white tile wall and slid down to the floor. My neck throbbed with soreness. Leaning my head back, I closed my eyes. Just for a moment.
If they wouldn’t let me leave, I could try to sneak out.
But without knowing what kind of powers these people possessed, or where the most unguarded exits were located, escaping could be a death sentence.
If I didn’t die in those woods with the creatures there, Reagan could still find me and tear me apart.
The thought made me curl further into myself.
I had come close to dying in the last hour, but the creature had stepped back and left the room. I remembered how the others stared. Not in shock, but with concern. Of course they must have already known about their Mage Lord and what he was.
Was this my prison now? Forbidden to leave, trapped among threats both human and beast. It certainly felt like one.
I had been reckless, but if I wanted to remain unscathed long enough to leave, I had to keep a cool head.
For a long time, I just sat there, exhaustion finally crashing over me as the adrenaline drained from my system.
I didn’t remember falling asleep.
◆◆◆
When I woke up, blinking at the white tub, there was a beam of sunlight piercing straight into my eye.
I jolted upright, my gaze darting around the room, confirming I was still alone.
My clothes were still muddied from being knocked down in the woods, so I considered taking a bath. It would help wash away the lingering fatigue and clear my mind.
“Can I bathe now?” I murmured to no one in particular.
As I expected, but no less impressive, water started flowing from the faucet, and the room immediately warmed.
I didn’t linger in the tub for long, just enough to clean myself.
The water stayed warm, and no one came in, thankfully.
I’d skipped their invitation to dinner last night.
Was it really an invitation, or had it been more of an order?
I hadn’t paid attention to the tone, not after nearly being killed.
My thoughts wandered to the fair. I wondered if Dominik had done anything to secure our trades, not that he needed to.
He had his own affairs to handle, and Father had only asked him to guide me for my first time there.
Thinking of him made my stomach churn. I couldn’t let that monster anywhere near them.
After stepping out of the tub and shuffling into the room, I found fresh clothes waiting for me: my own pair of leather trousers and a blue jumper beside my boots, now utterly clean. Even the dirt stains on the floor had vanished. There was an odd, almost sentient presence here.
I ran my fingers through my damp hair, attempting to smooth it, when my gaze caught on the comb atop the dresser, one I was sure wasn’t there before.
The bedroom door swung open on its own, as if urging me that it was time to go.
Dark stone floors and deep-coloured rugs lined the corridors, framed by paintings on the walls and lit by candle chandeliers, though some corners were illuminated by spotlights. It was warm enough that I didn’t need a coat.
A figure approaching snagged my attention. Instinctively, I slowed my pace, but the woman, dressed in a white apron over an olive-green dress, simply passed by. Perhaps a maid.
She glanced at me and nodded briefly. I returned the gesture, captivated by her skin, which seemed almost like scales.
Those beastly features weren’t a figment of my imagination then. Perhaps they all could shift, like the lord.
I still could not comprehend what I had seen. How that man turned into an animal. But the marking on my arm was still there, like a reminder that yesterday had been real.
On the ground floor, I spotted guards milling about near the entrances. Down the hallway, muffled voices echoed, accompanied by the clinking of glasses and cutlery. Soft white light spilled from one of the doors.
“. . . on the eastern border. When I spoke with Castor, he said they had enforced a curfew for four nights, until the ward was up again,” Finnegan was saying.
“Any sightings?” Cerridwen asked, concern evident in her tone.
“Once,” Finnegan replied.
A long silence followed.
Barracus’s voice broke the quiet. “This conversation isn’t private anymore.”
My eyebrows quirked up. I cursed and sighed as I pushed the door open. It was the same room as yesterday’s meeting, minus the broken windows and shards of glass on the floor.
They sat at the far end, surrounded by dishes. The warm scent of bread and coffee filled the air as I approached.
“Jane,” Finnegan greeted. “Are you joining us for breakfast?”
I glanced at the two figures next to him. Cerridwen wore a curious smirk, while Barracus had the same frown he’d worn yesterday. The smell of food made my stomach rumble.
“Take a seat,” the woman said.
With a small nod, I moved cautiously towards the table, taking a seat a few chairs away from them, just in case.
“It’s wonderful that she skips the meals we invite her to but attends the ones we don’t,” Barracus muttered, his monotone accompanied by bored eyes.
“Do you like your chamber?” Finnegan asked, ignoring the older mage’s remark, his small lips tilting upward.
“I hope the floor was comfortable,” Cerridwen quipped, taking a sip from a steaming mug.
“Delightful,” I answered dryly, wondering if anyone else saw me there.
Finnegan’s brows knitted, but he didn’t reply, turning his attention to his porridge. I eyed the food. Cerridwen had a slice of bread on her plate, the same one from a basket.
“We know a great deal about poison, indeed,” she said, as if reading my mind. “But we save it for enemies, not our own meals.” She placed the basket in front of me. Noticing my hesitation, she sighed. “We don’t need to trick you to kill you. You’d be easy enough to kill without poison.”
“I bet,” I replied, already tense again.
“We’re not killers,” she added calmly, setting her mug down. “But suit yourself.”
My stomach growled louder, and I finally reached for the bread.
“Am I supposed to just overlook that some overbearing man-beast nearly mauled me yesterday?” I asked.
“And yet, you’re still here,” Cerridwen replied, barely stifling a yawn.
“He wasn’t going to hurt you,” Finnegan chimed in, reclining in his chair. “Maybe just scare you a little.”
I stared at him, realising he was serious.
“And the next time?” I asked tersely. “Is it just going to be another scare, or do I actually have to start worrying about my life?”
“That’s entirely up to you,” Reagan said by way of greeting.
He strode into the room, back in human form, dressed in a simple dark button-up and brown trousers, looking too composed, as if nothing had happened.
“You could try doing as you’re told,” he suggested, sounding annoyed as he slipped into the chair at the head of the table. “Or keep hurling those empty threats at the ‘overbearing man-beast,’ as you so eloquently put it.”
“You didn’t seem to find them empty yesterday,” I murmured, reaching slowly for the knife beside my plate.
Reagan’s eyes marked the movement, and I thought I saw his mouth twitch.
“If you obey, you’ll be safe here. It’s that simple.”
“I was safe before,” I said calmly. “I definitely don’t feel safe here. Wherever ‘here’ even is.”
“She’s got a point,” Finnegan said. “Maybe she needs a trip to the city. If she’s staying, she should know her way around.”
“You could take her,” Cerridwen proposed to the Mage Lord.
He raised a brow at her. “One of your finest ideas yet,” Reagan said flatly. “Shall I carry her on my back through the city?”
“I thought Malory told you to look after her,” she argued, ignoring his sardonic words. “And look into what happened.”
My stomach clenched, and the worry probably showed on my face. Yet the thought of leaving the castle intrigued me.