Regardless of how I feel, I’ve been regulated to the training room or the gardens with the royal siblings with their constant surveillance. Not even servants are allowed in my rooms without one of them present.
The heir is absent from all of this.
I understand the risk Zelos presents to me, but this all feels a bit much. They are terrified of his retribution, and I would be wise to listen to their concerns. But the suffocation, the need to act is strong in my blood. Kaden said I have a habit of running head first into danger and although the description is extreme, he’s not wrong.
Luckily, today, Fee was needed elsewhere, and Reid was nowhere to be seen.
When I dropped the sword, hair flying around, pale face red, I asked her, “Why?”
Rolling her eyes, the warrior sheathed her sword. “Princess duties, unfortunately.” Then she dumped me back in my sitting room with a lethal glare. “Stay.”
Bristling at the command, I wait until she’s gone to retreat to my bedroom, stripping for a bath. The water isn’t warm when I get in, but the coldness soothes the red spots and the various cuts from her teachings. It also reminds me of the cool spring we bathed in when I lived in the Blackwoods Coven.
My heart winces. It’s been weeks since I heard from them. Before, I worried if they thought I had abandoned them. Now I worry if they’ve forgotten me.
I don’t waste time, rushing out of the bath and dressing into a light dress. It’s nothing as scandalous as my first night in these rooms, but just as thin, deep charcoal grey silk, spun softly. It ripples over my curves, off the shoulder and tight to the bodice with a long slit along my leg.
My hair hangs in soft waves around my shoulder as I grab the necklace the royals insist on me wearing. I know it belonged to his mother, but Zelos is frightened by it. Whatever power it wields, I’ll use it. It might keep me alive.
Once I slip on my shoes, I take off into the direction of the library. I’ve been here on a brief tour with Fee but I want to explore it on my own.
Escaping through words was the only peace I had in the Blackwoods Coven. When the villagers were busy during the day and I tried to sleep away the sounds of their blood in my ears, and I used the nights to read. Reading about faraway adventures, seeing romance unravel, I encased myself in the fantasy. I thought that was the closest I would get to enjoying it. Because who would want a monster like me?
Gods’ will had different plans.
The large black doors loom over me, like most of the entryways in the palace. Another horrible scene, another reminder of the Dark Fae and their brutality.
They open on loud hinges and I take in the wide, expansive room, full of black wooded bookshelves and a high chandelier full of ebony candles. The room, much like the rest of the palace, has black tiled floors and richly painted walls. A crackling fireplace surrounded by raven-colored stones takes up most of the room in the back, surrounded by a few large leather chairs. The atmosphere feels of magic, darkness and the subtle quietness of wisdom.
The air is heavy with parchment and books as I step in, eying the tall shelves, the leather-bound tomes all various shades of black, grey and burgundy. They call to me, asking to be read. My fingers drift over their edges, nails catching on the ends as this simple walk eases my internal worry.
Keeping away from the crackling fireplace, I scan the room. Books big and small, some so large they’re as big as my body stare back at me and I smile, mesmerized. I’ve never had this many books at my disposal. Back in the Coven, getting books was a rarity. I didn’t have money and could only earn when I helped elderly witches in their gardens. Whatever extra I had, I saved for a book when a trader would come by.
Which wasn’t often.
This is my wildest dreams come true. Solitude, stories and time.
In the far corner of the library, a glinting glass dome catches my attention.
Moving, I take in the oddness of it. There’s a book alone, shielded under the glass. Is it fragile, delicate? Perhaps worn from time and therefore fragile?
Peering down, it’s a ruby red, pristine and protected, with fine scrollwork along the edges. The gold shimmers under the glass, and a soft rose graces the cover, so lightly painted, I almost miss it.
It’s gorgeous, but strange for it to be displayedthis way.
“It’s theRose Noire,” Fenrir explains, coming over my side. I glance back, his tall form gliding over the black tiles as if he skates over ice. “A curious thing. It’s been locked up since I was a boy.”
“You’ve been here since you were young?”
He stops at my side, peering down into the glass. “Yes. My mother, Queen Aoife, and Kaden’s mother were close friends. I spent many days here.”
I take in the Woodland Fae, hand itching to grab my dagger. He’s tall, like most Fae are, but his pale hair is stark against the gothic room, his white linen shirt and beige pants too bright, too simple. His green eyes glance to me and back. “Have you heard the legend?”
“Legend?” My interest is piqued, but I don’t dare move closer. “What legend?”
Fee and Reid have drilled moves, defensive stances, and swordplay into my body for days because this court is dangerous. Everyone is a threat. I won’t be caught off guard.
But I am curious.
