“Well, what do I do?” I ask, starting to panic. I didn't want to get hurt because someone might mistake my birthmark for something more.
“I have a magic concealer which will cover it, but you’ll need to make sure you reapply it every morning.”
“Okay. I appreciate it.”
“Anything for the . . . ”
I shoot her a dark look. “Don’t say it.”
Zaria presses her lips together and nods. “Fine, but I think maybe you should be trying to think of how you were able tocross through into this realm, because I bet it has something to do with that mark.”
Shaking my head, I turn away in amusement, then head straight for the food cart. Now fully stocked, the cakes become my immediate fixation, their sweet smell wafting toward me. Cake is a weakness of mine. I grab a small plate and fill it with three slices of different cakes and a few strawberries. As I turn to take a seat, Zaria lifts an eyebrow at my plate.
“I have a sweet tooth.”
“I can see that.”
“Thanks for the clean clothes.” I rub the soft tulle fabric between my fingers. This dress is a much better fit. The bodice fits me like a glove, with over the shoulder delicate cupped sleeves, and the flared bottom gives me a twirl-worthy silhouette.
“It looks good on you. I have sent some maids into the village with your measurements ready to stock you up with garments as we speak.”
“Oh, there was no need for that. I’ll be heading home soon.” I’m thankful for the topic change because Zaria thinking I am some lost druid princess is absurd. That is, until I notice her expression.
“Now what is it?” I groan.
“The queen has forbidden you from leaving the castle grounds.”
Chapter eleven
Everly
Agitated, I pace back and forth in my chamber. Who does the queen think she is? I am not one of her subjects to be ordered around. I don’t belong here.
Nix still hasn’t returned, and Zaria left about ten minutes ago to find Raiden. Observing the group, it’s clear how close-knit they are. Their interactions are fluid and natural, filled with an unspoken understanding and camaraderie. The trust they share is unmistakable, reminiscent of the bond I have with Mia and Scarlett. Those two are more than just friends to me; they’re like sisters, woven into the fabric of my life with threads of shared experiences and unwavering loyalty.
A sudden, loud knock at my door makes my heart skip a beat as it echoes through the chambers. I quickly make my way over to the door, my fists clenched. With a deep breath, I swing the door open, ready to confront whoever waits on the other side.
My breath catches in my throat as I take in the incredible sight before me. Holy shit.
Dressed in all black, Maxon’s violet eyes blaze with an intense heat. Clipped to his shoulders is a long black cape that drapes almost to the ground. Secured to his waist by a leather belt, a long sword hangs at his side, its hilt gleaming in the sunlight. My eyes run over the leather cuffs covering his forearms, each bearing the same markings as the tattoo on his face.
"Stóirín," he says with a grin, his eyes sparkling.
I quickly shut my mouth, realizing I had been gaping for a few seconds.
“Your Highness.”
“Call me Maxon.”
“But Zaria said–”
Maxon shook his head, some of his dark hair falling over his face. “I want you to call me Maxon.”
Taken aback, I struggle to push the words out. “Oh, okay.”
He stares at me with a strange expression, one that seems caught between amusement and curiosity. “I have training for a few hours, but after I can come and give you a tour of the castle if you’d like.”
A thrill of excitement shoots through me at the thought of exploring the castle, and my anger is momentarily forgotten. “And the gardens?”
