No. There’s an order to this. Avery specificorder. And first up is a bath.
I take my time with it. Luxuriate in the hot water for over an hour. I soak away the last remnants of my grief-stricken fugue, then lather and rinse my newly short hair. It feels strange for so much of me to be missing, but also liberating, somehow. I feel lighter, freer. Bouncier.
When I finally rise from the tub, I make my way to the closet, where I hang up my Aethrolian dress and sift through the fae ones I never dared to wear. Eventually, I settle on a sleek one in green. It would be considered scandalous in Aethrolia, with its slit skirts and a plunging neckline that cuts nearly to my navel, but I love it. I pull it on in front of the floor-length mirror. The fabric hugs my curves, the gauzy sleeves cupping my shoulders and trailing around my hands, and I barely recognize myself. The woman in the mirror looks as free as my hair makes me feel.
Downstairs, I run into Ravenna on the staircase. She shrieks her excitement and folds me into a hug.
“Shadows, look at you! You lookfae. But where’re you going? What’re you doing? I know you probably want to be with Amriel, but I couldn’t help myself from coming to check on you.”
I grin at her, taking her hand in mine. “Amriel needs to be punished a little. So maybe you could give me a tour?”
Her eyes spark. “A tour?”
“Yes. I want to see everything. Everything I’ve been missing.”
She grins. And shows me everything, dragging me from the top of the castle to the bottom. There are rooms I’ve never even dreamed of—art studios and music halls, stone terraces that open to the outside, sitting areas that overflow with flowers. There’s a library so grandiose it makes my chest ache, and arched training halls lined with racks of weapons. There’s even a communal bath, where steam rises gently fromopen tubs while condensation drips down the tiled walls. Plus a wide, low-ceilinged lounge where gauzy curtains frame an array of giant beds. There, fae couples gyrate against one another in dim lighting. I even spot a bed occupied by—I count the bodies—eightfae at once, their limbs woven tightly together.
My eyes linger there. Goddess help me, but this part might take some getting used to.
Not that Ravenna lets me watch for long. She grabs my hand and tows me back out, showing me the apothecary, where bundles of herbs dangle from the ceiling. From there, we visit an indoor museum, where historical artifacts sit on display, their origins stretching back over the eons. She explains each one, until my head whirls with the influx of information and I can’t remember the difference between a coronet and a diadem.
By the time we finish, my feet throb and sunset swathes the landscape outside. I peer out a window, astonished to find that the abyss below no longer exists. Now a true courtyard waits below, the castle cupped around it like an adoring hand. Even the Wildwood has shed its cloak of shadows. Now it gleams in shades of violet, mirroring the twilit sky above.
A pang gathers in my throat. This place is so beautiful it almost defies belief.
Ravenna gazes out, violet light catching on her cheekbones. “Apparently that’s how it was, before Alanna’s curse. I never saw it, of course, but that’s what everyone says.”
I swallow through a thickened throat and nod, unable to tear my eyes from the courtyard, the forest. What’s out there now, in the Wildwood? More doors that lead to who-knows-where? Or just a regular forest with glowing moss and luminous leaves?
I’d like to see for myself. Actually set foot in there again. But first…
I turn to Ravenna. “It’s dinnertime, isn’t it? Amriel will be down there?”
She scans my face, then breaks into a mischievous smile, as if she can read my thoughts. Most likely she can—I’ve never been good at dissembling.
She nudges an elbow into my side. “Is his punishment over, then?”
I snort softly. “No, but I’m ready to let him make it up to me. Or to try, at least.”
A startled laugh bursts from her mouth. “Oh, Sariah. You’re going to be just fine here. I’m sure of it.”
I answer that with a smile. Because I’m sure, too.
In the dining hall, silence falls as we emerge from the stairwell. Amriel sprawls at the head of the table, just like last time. Only now, when everyone rises, he does, too.
My heart swells and swells and swells. He stares at me, his teeth digging into his bottom lip, his chest stilling as his eyes sweep me up and down. When they return to my face, so much love and desire burn there that I forgive him, just like that.
Not that I plan to let him know it. Not yet. I even take a place halfway down the table, for the express purpose of extending his torment.
We feast. Like last time, Amriel’s eyes never stray from mine. On at least a dozen occasions, his hand sneaks below the table to adjust himself, and I laugh.
His fault for wearing such tight-fitting pants.
The fae welcome me, asking me to regale them with tales from the labyrinth. I do my best to recount it all faithfully, relishing the way their eyes follow every movement of my hands, how they hang on to my every word. Someone pours me a goblet of wine, and I take my very first sip of alcohol, then set it aside with a splutter.
Must be an acquired taste. Becauseyuck.
Amriel listens the whole time, looking more relaxed than I’ve ever seen him. No wine for him tonight, I note, but then again, he doesn’t need it anymore.
