The sight that greets me is nothing short of impossible. Yet no matter how many times I blink, it doesn’t change.
The walls of a stone castle soar around me, but this castle is unlike any I’ve ever seen. Massive tree trunks spiral up the walls and arch across the ceiling, their branches laced with veins of flowing pink light. Glowing green moss traces patterns across the walls, while fireflies drift past like wandering stars. Everything my eyes touch—the lush floor, the mossy stone, the very air itself—hums with a gentle, organic luminescence, as if the forest hasn’t been carved away to make room for this place. The forestisthis place, grown and shaped, impossibly alive.
“Welcome,” the Shadow says, “to Velindra. The kingdom of the fae.”
I swivel around to find him towering over me. There are no torches here, nothing as sensible as lamps or candles, and in their absence, he somehow looks different. Like he almost makessensein this place, the glimmer of his skin just one more rivulet in this waterfall of light.
Sharpness prickles beneath my breastbone. My hand lands there and presses, but the feeling doesn’t relent, no matter how hard I push. “I… I…”
His mouth crooks. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”
My eyes trail over him. “It… Yes.” I sit back on my heels and take in the space again. We’re inside, but also outside. We’re in a fantasy. We’re in a dream.
Or maybe I’ve died? I hold my hands before me, turning them this way and that, but they look the same as always—just bathed by this spectral green-and-pink glow.
Suddenly, the castle quakes, and I lurch onto the moss again. When I raise my head, Amriel steps from a tear in reality. The moment he passes through, the rip seals itself. The sphere in his hand blinks out, its gears fading into silence.
I gape. Whatever magic I thought the fae possessed, it wasn’t this. Yet I have no doubt that this is how the king’s Shadow found his way into my garden. By using one of these spheres. These…wayfarer’s gyres, or whatever he called them.
Reality boils again—once, twice, a dozen more times—as fae delegates step from the air. Each arrival unhinges my jaw another inch. Just moments ago, we stood in my father’s throne room, and now we’re here, miles and miles and miles away.
My mind swells until it strains at the seams.
Amriel gazes down his cheeks at me, his mouth already settling into its habitual sneer. “Princess. On the floor again, so soon?”
I glower, which only seems to amuse him.
“Well.” He surveys me a moment longer before turning away. “If at some point you remember how to stand on your own two feet, you’re free to join us for dinner. Or not. It makes no difference to me.”
Without another word, he stalks off, yanking at the straps of his armor. Buckles clink. Fabric rustles. Amriel’s delegates scurry to collect the pieces he tosses out in random directions. He saves his vambraces forlast, flinging them aside just before disappearing around a vine-draped corner.
I stare after him, hatred hardening in my belly. I don’t care if he’s my mate—whatever that even means—I detest him. I loathe every last thing about him.
“Are you hungry? Or would you rather I show you to your room?”
I drag my attention up to the Shadow. His voice lands more gently here, its growl closer to a purr, but the naked hunger hasn’t left his expression. He stares down like he’s drinking me in, like he’s savoring whatever thought is currently sliding across his mind.
I rise on shaky legs. He warned me not to turn my back on him, so I probably shouldn’t lay sprawled on the floor at his feet, either.
“I’ll take you wherever you want to go,” he says.
I weigh that. “You mean there’s a bedroom for me, somewhere?”
“Yes. Whichever guestroom you want. We have plenty to choose from.”
A beat of silence falls between us. His attention slips, and when I follow it downward, I find him fixated on the rip in my sleeve, where bare skin peeks through. Blood rushes to my cheeks as I tug the fabric up to hide my shoulder.
It isn’t proper for him to look at me like that. For him to have…whatever thoughts he’s currently having.
I angle my face away. “Dinner,” I say hoarsely. Not because I harbor any desire to share a table with Amriel, or because I have anything resembling an appetite, but because I won’t go anywhere alone with this goblin. Thismateof mine. Now that we’ve left Aethrolia, there’s no telling what he’ll do.
“Dinner,” he repeats, so slowly that I can’t tell if his tone masks disappointment or not. “Right. It’s this way.”
He spins on his heel, and I cast one last glance around before hurrying to follow. I have the feeling that if I get lost in this place, I’ll never find my way out.
The goblin leads me out of the grand hall, into leafy corridors that twist and turn as if they grew that way, rather than being built. Vines stretch along the walls, heavy with blossoms that glow purple and blue and pink. Various fae drift past, mostly in their humanoid forms, but afew in their goblin bodies, as well. Some smile. Others don’t. Everyone whispers as I pass by.
I keep my gaze fixed on the Shadow’s back. After dinner, I’ll isolate myself in my room, seek Ishanna’s counsel. Because I trust my goddess to guide me through this. To right this horrible wrong.
