A knock interrupted her brooding. Not the timid tap of servants or Thaine's aggressive pounding. This was precise and measured.
"Come in," she called, too tired to move.
The door opened to reveal a creature she hadn't seen before. It stood unnaturally still, its frame lean and its proportions slightly wrong—arms too long, fingers too many joints. Pale skin bore dark striations, and when it blinked, amber sap-colored eyes reflected the firelight.
"From his lordship," the creature said. "For tonight."
"What's tonight?"
"You are commanded to dine with him. Privately." The creature's expression might have been sympathy or hunger. It was hard to tell with the fae. "Eight bells. The Winter Dining Hall."
It laid the garment on her bed with reverent care and then glided toward the door.
"Wait," Briar called. "Which one is the Winter Dining Hall? This place is a maze."
"Follow the silver flowers," the creature said. "They bloom only for invited guests."
Then it was gone, leaving her alone with whatever Eliam had sent.
Wariness crept through her as she approached the bed. The fabric looked innocent enough, deep red silk that seemed to hold its own light. But when she lifted it, her stomach dropped.
It was a gown, technically. In the way that cobwebs were technically clothing if you arranged them right. The bodice was structured but sheer, with strategic embroidery providing the only real coverage. The skirt fell in layers that would move and shift with every step, with slits that climbed dangerously high.
There were no undergarments provided.
"Absolutely not," she said to the empty room.
The mark pulsed warm on her arm.
A reminder.
She held the dress up to the mirror, watching how it caught the light. It was beautiful in an obscene way. The kind of thing meant to display rather than cover. To make clear she was a decoration and something to be shown off.
The kind of thing that would make her feel naked even fully dressed.
She set it aside and returned to her books, trying to focus on etiquette involving what to do if confronted with two fae of similar ranking but from different courts, one a stranger and the other one you knew well. The red silk, however, seemed to pulse in her peripheral vision, patient as everything else in this cursed place.
Chapter eleven
By evening, her resolve had crumbled.
Not because she wanted to wear it. But because defiance here had public consequences, and she couldn't bear another display in court. At least dinner would be private. Only his eyes to strip her bare.
She bathed in the too-aware water, dried with towels that felt too much like hands, and stepped into the red silk with shaking fingers.
It fit perfectly, of course. The bodice cupped and lifted, the skirt clung before falling in that liquid way. Every move would flash skin. Every breath would strain the delicate embroidery.
She'd never felt more exposed.
The mark pulsed approval, sending warmth through her body that made the silk feel even thinner. She wrapped her arms around herself, but that only emphasized what the dress revealed.
"I hate you," she told her reflection.
The water-mirror rippled, and for a moment she could have sworn her reflection smiled.
Eight bells came too soon. Silver flowers had indeed bloomed along one corridor, their faces following her movement as she passed. They led deeper into the castle, to sections she had yet explored. The air grew colder, thick with the scent of winter roses and old magic.
The Winter Dining Hall doors stood open, revealing a room that defied season. Snow fell gently from the ceiling but never reached the floor. Ice crystals grew in artisticformations along the walls. And at the center, a table set for two beside a fireplace that burned with blue flames.
