As soon as we step into the castle I smell butter. Cinnamon. Fresh bread.
“You’ve been holding out on me,” I groan, rubbing my stomach.
“Of course I have,” she throws over her shoulder. I’m tempted to tug on one of her braids but I don’t dare.
Kestra holds more power than anyone gives her credit for. Something that also saddens me.
She loops her elbow in mine as we walk through the castle. My free hand trails along the wall, my fingertips ghosting over the stone as it rubs the callouses there.
The castle reminds me of something that belongs on earth circa the early fifteen hundreds. Only darker and more brooding. As though the entire castle has a personality of its own. Which is plausible.
The shadows jump from one corner to another. The sconces don’t hold light but a darkness that disturbs me, casting shadow out, pushing the light from the windows at the ends.
“There’s no décor.” I drop my hand.
Kestra hums, “No, not here.” She leads me around another wing and another staircase.
“Why?”
“Not in this wing,” she says. “Father believed if I saw that which I loved daily I’d never detach from that love.”
My mouth drops open.
“You don’t have to say anything.” She pauses. “Go in.”
“What?” I look at the archway to the dining room, my stomach growling.
“I am not invited,” she says bitterly.
Anger surges up my spine.
“Don’t.” She cuts me off. “Not this fight. Save it.”
What the hell does that mean?
I turn back around and enter the dining room. It’s lighter in here. A row of seven windows looks out over the vast twilight to the Dark Forest beyond.
No Kieran. No Finnian. No Orion.
The bond at my wrist stays cold.
The long table is full of foods that I admittedly rush toward.
It’s a trap. A month locked in that tower and they think food is going to soften me. I mean yes, it is going to work. But I don’t care. Whatever the dark king has to throw at me I can handle it. I can.
I grab a cinnamon roll and take a large bite of it.
“I wondered what you’d grab first.”
Fuck me.
I close my eyes, pretending for a moment that I’m alone. Just so I can savor this bite. And savor I do, right down to the icing I leave on my fingertips.
I eat it all before turning to look at king asshole.
His eyes watch me as I use a napkin to clean my fingers and grab a plate. “I’m guessing you told Kestra not to tell me this was a meeting and not a breakfast.” Though she didn’t lie, she said go down and play nice. I just assumed he wouldn’t be there.
I pile up my plate.
