“I know it’s unfair of me to ask but… the food you brought me… it did little to satisfy the endless hunger I’ve endured.”
“I’ll bring you more,” Briar replied. “I’ll bring you as much as you need.”
“You’re overwhelmingly kind,” Thomas said, managing a ghost of a smile. “But I can’t ask you to risk getting caught.”
"I won't." She pulled the leaf in her pocket. "I have this. It hides me from him."
Thomas's eyes fixed on her hand. "Clever. Very clever. Who gave you that?"
"Someone who wanted me to find answers."
"Then they chose well." His smile grew and it transformed his gaunt face. "We'll figure this out together. You and I. Two humans against the fae courts." His voice dropped to a whisper. "But you must tell no one. Not even those you think are allies. The fae play games within games."
"I won't. I promise."
"Tomorrow then. Bring what food you can. And I'll try to remember more about the flowers. About breaking bonds." He touched his chest. "It's all here, jumbled. But food helps. Food clears the fog."
She nodded, rising to her feet. The illumination on the leaf rippled, a sign that she was running low on time. "I’m sorry but I have to go."
"Yes. Be careful. Always careful." He watched her back away. "And thank you. You don't know... you can't know what hope tastes like after so long in the dark."
The words followed her up the stairs, through the hidden door, back toward the upper levels. Hope. She'd given him hope, and he'd given it back to her.
Someone who understood. Someone who might help her break free. Someone human, like her, trapped by fae machinations.
The leaf's magic held steady as she navigated back to her chambers. Her heart raced with possibility. Breaking the mark. Escape. Freedom.
She eased her door open, slipping inside and pressing her back against it once it closed. Safe. Her hands trembled as she crossed to the writing desk, tucking the leaf into its hiding place beneath some papers.
At the basin, she cupped cold water in her palms, pressing them to her flushed cheeks, then her neck, trying to cool the heat that seemed to radiate from within. The dress clung uncomfortably to her damp skin. She peeled it off with shaking fingers, letting it pool on the floor, she'd deal with it later. She pulled a silk nightshift from the wardrobe, the fabric whispering over her skin as she pulled it on, its coolness a small relief.
She tried to settle, sitting at her vanity, then standing, then pacing to the window. Her mind raced through Thomas's words, his promises, the possibility of freedom. Hope was dangerous here, but she couldn't stop it from unfurling in her chest.
"Restless tonight?"
She whirled. Eliam stood by her bookshelf, running his fingers along the spines. She hadn't heard him enter, he never announced himself in his own domain.
It was clear he had been preparing for sleep. A dark forest green robe hung open over low-slung pants of soft black fabric that looked more suited to bed than court. The robe's edges were embroidered with thorned vines that seemed to shift in the candlelight, but it was the bare expanse of his chest that drew her eye—lean muscle and pale skin marked with faint scars her fingers twitched to touch.
"I couldn't sleep," she said, which was true enough.
"Nor could I." He selected a book, flipping through it absently. "The castle feels unsettled tonight. Or perhaps that's just me."
He turned the book toward her, showing an illustrated page of thorned vines. "Interesting reading material you have. Though I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, you do seem drawn to dangerous things."
Eliam’s eyes tracked down her body slowly, deliberately, taking in the thin nightshift that did little to hide her form. The look was possessive, appraising, like examining something he owned.
She jerked her gaze away from his bare chest, heat flooding her face, but his knowing smirk said he'd noticed her looking.
"You should knock," she said, voice sharper than intended to cover her embarrassment.
"Should I?" He set the book aside, the robe shifting with his movement, revealing more than concealing. "Why would I knock to enter rooms I own?"
"Because someone lives in them."
"Property lives in them." His tone was mild, almost amused. "Property doesn't require courtesy."
The casual dismissal after everything, after the cushion, after holding her through the night, after the bath, made something snap inside her.
