“… Yes?” I replied hesitantly.
The door creaked open and a woman stepped inside. Her gaze slid from my face to the book in my hand, arching a brow with a mix of curiosity and something close to amusement.
“Are you a lover of literature… or were you planning to knock me out with that thing?” she asked, her tone completely dry.
I blinked at her bluntness and slowly put the book back where it stood.
She smirked, as if answering her own question. “So, definitely the second option. I’m Marielle. Your maid.” My maid? Only royals or super wealthy people like the Wrights would be able to afford a staff to serve them, and I wasn’t one of them.
Marielle moved to the dresser and began laying out garmentslike this was the most normal situation in the world. She was petite, with honey-blonde hair braided up into a bun that sat like a crown at the back of her head. Her golden-brown skin glowed against the soft light of the room, and her amber eyes were warm and bright, like she trulysawme when she smiled. Not everyone’s kindness felt real. Hers did.
“What is your name, my dear?”
“Gwendolyn.”
“A very beautiful name, my dear.” Her voice filled with warmth, as she kept studying me from head to toe. “It suits you.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I simply nodded. She turned and opened the door with practiced ease, revealing a dimly lit hallway stretching ahead, the glow of lanterns casting golden shadows on the red walls.
“You must be tired,” she stated, her gaze slipping over her shoulder. “I was asked to prepare a bath for you.”
“Asked by who?” I blurted out, my curiosity outweighing my caution. Was it the man I met in the tunnels? Or someone else entirely? And why was she being so sweet to me, she didn’t know me?
Marielle didn’t answer right away. Instead, she walked gracefully ahead, her honey-blonde braid swaying gently behind her. She glanced over her shoulder, the faintest hint of mischief in her amber eyes. “You’ll find out soon enough. And now come, let’s get the traces of your journey off you.”
I followed her cautiously down a long hallway, the walls adorned with flickering lights shaped like small lanterns until we stopped at the end of the hallway before a towering set of glass double doors, framed in dark iron and veined with patterns of something resembling wings and fire.
Marielle pushed the door open with ease, revealing a room that could have been carved from a gemstone itself. The entire space shimmered in tones of emerald and onyx, and the bath, ifyou could call it that, was sunk into the polished black marble floor like a secret small lake. It was five times larger than any tub I’d ever seen. The surface of the water glistened, kissed by moonlight that poured from a glass dome in the high, vaulted ceiling and it smelled like roses and sandalwood everywhere.
Were there really people who would bathe in this sort of temple every single day?
The walls of the bedroom were glass panes with different kinds of ornaments. Polished stones pedestals cradled statues in graceful, unsettling poses. However, their wings looked very much different, some were bat-like, others huge. One statue had wings that resembled more of a faerie than an angel, stirring memories from the earlier tea party.
Near the entrance, a full-length mirror stood in a frame of silver thorns. I barely glanced at it, assuming it was just another vanity piece belonging to whoever lived here, someone who clearly liked to admire themselves.
“You can leave your dress there,” Marielle said gently, gesturing toward the silk rug beside the bath. “I’ll collect it once you’re finished. Just relax.” With a soft smile, Marielle slipped out the door and closed it behind her, leaving me in heavy silence.
I was alone, again.
The marble felt cold beneath my feet, the scent of the bath pulling at something soft and sleepy inside me. I turned toward the mirror, fingers reaching for the buttons of my dress until I froze.
There wassomeonein the mirror.
I should have screamed or been frightened, but I couldn’t breathe. Even now, even here, his presence was impossible to ignore.
The man from the tunnels.
He wore a red lace blouse with puff shoulders that clung to hischest and opened into a deep V, revealing the pale line of his throat. His raven hair fell back in gentle waves, catching the light and framing his striking features that were almost otherworldly. Around his neck hung a silver chain, heavy and deliberate. A long, thin sword charm rested against his chest; its hilt was engraved with the shape of a masquerade mask. It was beautiful and only made me think of my own necklace being gone.
His posture was relaxed, one arm casually draped along the top of the frame, while the other rested at his waist. And though he didn’t move, the sheer gravity of him filled the entire room like the bath itself had bent to his presence.
Was he themaster?
His green eyes roamed all over me as he tilted his head slightly, giving me a playful smirk.
“Why am I here?” I finally found my words, breaking the heavy silence between us. I quickly looked away, my gaze falling to my hands, fingers twisting together as I waited for his answer.
His smile deepened, as if my question amused him. There was something teasing in the way he looked at me.
