“Make your way to the Great Dining Hall when you’re ready,” they say, turning smoothly back toward the wall.
I snort. “And where exactly is that? Will I be given an escort? GPS coordinates? A trail of breadcrumbs to follow?”
The figure’s head tilts, and when they speak again, their tone is almost reverent. “The Keep will take you.”
That’s not creepy at all.
I open my mouth to ask for clarification, but they’re already retreating past the wall, which closes seamlessly behind them. I stare at the blank stone for a long second. “Cool,” I mutter. “I love that I’m now living in a sentient house run by a dude with stage-five control issues and his evil minions.”
I look down at the dress. It’s black and made of satin, soft as shadow, with a swooping neckline that screamsobedience required.I fold my arms. “Yeah, no. Not happening.”
I march toward where the doorusedto be and plant my hand against the wall. “Open.”
Nothing.
“Please?” I try, because manners might count.
Still nothing.
The air seems to tighten around me, almost smug.
“Oh, come on,” I groan. “You reacted yesterday when I was having a minor breakdown.” I pause, glaring at the stone. “What, you only take orders from men? Typical.”
The vibrations deepen, and I swear it sounds like the castle is laughing.
I glare harder, but the message is clear—the door won’t open until I comply. Fine. Whatever. I’ll play along.
I remove the pajamas, thankful to find my original underwear beneath them, then pull the dress over my head. It fits perfectly, because of course it does. When I turn back to the wall, though, it’s still stubbornly shut.
Which is fine because I have to pee anyway.
There’s a partition with a toilet and a sink behind it, both of which get put to immediate use. Once I come back out, I glare at the walls.
“Seriously? I’m dressed and have used the facilities. Can we move on with the creepy dinner demand part now?”
The hairbrush rattles against the glass top of the vanity.
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”
Grumbling, I drag the brush through my hair, taming the waves that have turned feral since… Whenever it was that I left NightShade.
Thinking of the manor makes my throat tighten, but I force the regrets and fears out of my mind. What’s done is done. I need to focus on finding answers and a way out of here. Malrik said he’s an Ashmark. That has to mean something.
Maybe he’s not as terrible as he’s trying to pretend to be. Hedidhide that body and not tell anyone. Though hemight have also been the reason the guy was in my room to begin with.
Damn it. I should have just told someone like Wolf said. If I’d told them how erratic that energy had felt, maybe they would have… I shake my head. I can’t do this right now. I can’t wallow in a past I can’t change.
I need an escape plan, and the only way to find that is to leave this room. Anyway that I’m able.
Then I can figure out if I’m ever going to be welcomed back with the family that I hope is all still alive.
The air in my room lightens a fraction as I finish brushing the tangles out, and I think maybe the house might finally have sympathy for me and let me out, but the door remains closed.
Next, the makeup jars quiver expectantly. I point at them. “Don’t even think about it.”
They clink louder.
“Ugh, fine. One swipe.” I dab on a hint of eyeshadow and mascara on myself, then look up at the ceiling. “Happy now?”
