Why suggest taking a book?
Why not justtellme what lies there?
The unsettling curse ofFated Celestialscreeps along my skin, curling through my fingers to my wrist, and dances into my shoulder. Resisting the urge to hold the thing at arm’s length, I venture farther through the south wing, following the twisting, window-lined hall.
I toss a glance over my shoulder, briefly meeting the stare of Cyran as he follows in my wake.
“What’s on this floor?” I ask, though I’ll admit, it sounds more like a demand.
Cyran would know.
“The arboretum, Lady Ves,” he answers.
My brows crease.
The arboretum?
I’m not familiar with the term.
The faint sounds of running water and singing birds reach me as I follow the hall right. And as the end of the hall comes into view, the castle looks less like a castle and more like a window into aforest.
There’s no forest in the center of Ollora.
And had I discovered this before, I certainly would have remembered.
Confused, my feet quicken. In a matter of seconds, I emerge within a toweringwilderness. And halt, jaw agape.
Mossy rocks, bushy ferns, flowering shrubs, and soft grass lie before me. Dirt paths lead deeper, winding around evergreen trees, their peaks reaching high above. It’s there songbirds have made their homes and flit about. Unbothered by my presence, they sing on as if I weren’t here.
A sudden movement and rustle of grass sets my heart racing—and a fawn-colored rabbit skirts itself into the brush.
A rabbit!
Are there deer and other animalstoo?
Swinging my gaze overhead, the early evening sky greets me, set ablaze by the sun. A glass roof. And the low, vibrating hum of old magic ripples in the center of my chest.
Spelled… the entire space is spelled—the warm gentle breeze, the flowers in bloom… Spelled to be perpetual summer…
“There’s aforesthere?” I ask in utter bewilderment as my feet carry me forward at a much slower pace.
“The arboretum was a gift,” Cyran replies as he appears beside me. “Presented by the late King Thalion to Lady Lilith.”
Hegiftedher aforest?
Call me jaded, but it’s suspicious. It’s the kind of attention-seeking gesture I’d expect from a demon. A hand offered in grand kindness while the other hides a dagger.
“More gifts?” I ask, my tone less than enthused.
“According to Lady Lilith, the late king’s affection came in the form of gifts,” Cyran says as he continues to trail along behind me.
Is that so?
The suspicion settles into my chest.
Gifts always come with strings.
A winding creek wanders through the wood and with the help of a small stone footbridge, my boots remain dry. Enraptured, I explore until I find the largest tree and claim a seat beneath it.
