"Your rooms are being prepared," he continued, leading her deeper into the maze. "Until then, you'll stay where I can see you."
"Where?"
He smiled over his shoulder. "With me, of course."
Of course. Because apparently her humiliation wasn't complete until she was forced to follow him around like a lost puppy. The anger helped, gave her something to focus on besides the growing certainty that she'd made a terrible mistake. Not in saving Allegra, but in believing she could endure this and that her own strength would be enough.
They climbed a spiraling staircase, her legs, already exhausted from the night's events, burned with each step. But his grip never loosened, and stopping wasn't an option.
Finally, they emerged into a vast chamber. The ceiling stretched impossibly high, branches forming a twisted canopy that blocked out the sky. The floor was polished wood so dark it reflected their movements. And at the center...
"Your throne?" she guessed, looking at the massive seat grown from twisted roots and blooming vines.
"When necessary." He finally released her wrist, though the mark still pulsed warm. "I find it theatrical. But the court expects certain... displays."
She rubbed her wrist, trying to ease the burn. Red marks showed where his fingers had gripped, and the thorned vine marking seemed darker, more pronounced.
"What now?" she asked, exhaustion making her bold. "Lock me in a tower? Chain me in the dungeons?"
"Such imagination." He moved to a side table and poured something amber into two glasses. "No, little thief. Now you learn how to live here. How to serve your purpose."
"Which is?"
He returned, offering her one glass. When she didn't take it, he set it aside and sipped his own.
"Whatever I decide," he said simply. "Your life, remember? Every breath, every heartbeat, every moment between now and eternity. Mine to direct as I please."
"I won't—"
"You will." No threat in it, just certainty. "Because the alternative is your sister dying and your mother going mad with grief. Do you want everything you sacrificed to mean nothing?" He took another sip. "But I'm not unreasonable. Serve well, and you'll find me... accommodating."
"And if I don't?"
His smile was winter-cold. "Then you'll learn why even the old forests fear me."
A knock echoed through the chamber saving Briar from having to respond.
"Enter," Eliam called.
She looked over as a lone figure slipped through a doorway Briar hadn't noticed. It was a female with bark-brown skin and moss-green hair carrying an armful of fabric.
"The rooms are ready, my lord," she said, keeping her eyes carefully averted from Briar. "And I've brought clothing, as Thaine instructed."
"Good." He gestured dismissively. "Leave them. You may go."
The woman set her bundle on a low table and retreated quickly. Briar noticed how she shivered as she passed too close to Eliam.
"Undress," he said once they were alone again. "Those clothes reek of the human world. Of your defiance. Of him."
“Where?”
Eliam smiled and motioned to where she stood. “Where else?”
Briar’s breath caught and she felt heat rising to flood her cheeks. The throne room suddenly felt smaller, the air heavier. Shadows danced at the edges of her vision where the strange light didn't quite reach. "I'm not taking my clothes off in front of you."
"Yes," he said simply, staring at her over the rim of his cup. "you are."
Chapter seven
