“Find me,” he said coldly, “when you're done being afraid and willing to help someone other than yourself.”
Chapter 14
Zara
Fates, he can punch hard.
My jaw throbbed, and I let out a groan as I pushed myself into a sitting position, still on the forest floor. Dirt and leaves were matted into my hair, my clothes, and I sighed deeply as I looked around.
Smoke no longer billowed in the distance, and I winced as I moved my jaw. It hadn’t healed properly and I was sure my cheek was lined with bruises. Snapping it back into place I held in a whimper, but I felt my magic slowly soothe the fracture.
My shoulders rounded, and I sucked in a breath as a sharp pain shot through my breastbone. Glancing down, I saw the long gash from Lex's blade. It was now an angry red line, crusted with dried blood between my breasts, and I glared at it. It hadn't healed completely yet, either.
My magic was still too weakened, and I was too far to shadow back to the castle. Scrambling to my feet, I huffed in anger. The sun was setting, and I wondered how long I'd beenlying there. Hours, it seemed. Lex would be long gone by now, and I bitterly turned in the direction of the manor.
I wouldn't dare sleep at the inn, not with this elixir now available. The rebels were clearly hiding in plain sight and fighting back. Plus, Atticus was off doing who knows what for my father and I had a room at his manor. It was protected, and I could rest, recharge, and report what I knew in the morning.
The manor felt cold and unwelcoming as I approached, its vast, mirrored metallic surface reflecting the surrounding landscape. The setting sun caught the metal, sending a nearly blinding glint across its expanse. Tall, spiked iron gates stood before me, and beyond them, a long walkway stretched toward the darkened entrance. The spikes gleamed, stained with dried blood, and the metallic scent hung heavily in the air. Atticus had cast a spell on them. No one could pass without offering blood. Only those he approved could enter. Even his servants, some who lacked healing blood in their veins, had to prick their fingers.
I used to find it amusing, but the thought of it now only soured my stomach.
Reaching out, I pricked my finger on a spike, a bead of blood welling and trickling around the metal. The gates groaned open with a slow creak, and relief washed over me as I strode up the path, eager for a much-needed bath and some food.
Pushing open the heavily arched doors, I entered the vast entryway. The ceiling stretched high, open to the two balconies above. Each level overlooked the space below, but the walls were bare, just as cold and unwelcoming as the rest of the house.
It reminded me of the bare walls of the castle, and I rolled my eyes.
A long black rug stretched down the hallway ahead, with doors on either side, leading to an open archway at the far end where the kitchens were located. To my right, a circular arch opened into the large main sitting room. The floor dipped in the center, creating a sunken sitting area that made the space feel deeper, almost cavernous. However, it was the corner of the room that captured my attention.
A twisted metal sculpture stood there. It was a grotesque cluster of contorted bodies, their expressions frozen in eternal agony.Art, I supposed. It was just another one of Atticus’s sick amusements, a tribute to his magic. My eyes narrowed on it, but a sound from the hallway had me snapping my head in that direction.
An auburn-haired female peered at me from the kitchen doorway. It was the girl I saw on the bridge earlier this morning, still in that gray dress and apron. She squeaked softly but gathered her courage and stepped into the hallway. She made it halfway down before stopping, keeping a safe distance.
“My lady.” She bowed. “I’m sorry… we hadn’t been told to expect you.”
“It wasn’t planned,” I said, a little too sharply, and the girl flinched but kept her gaze fixed on my feet.
“Do you need anything to eat? We were preparing dinner for—”
“Just bring it up to my room when it’s done. And a bottle of wine, if you have it.”
I was annoyed, but also a little grateful I wasn’t entirely alone here.
“Of course, your maj— I mean—prin— I mean—” she stammered, struggling over the title.
“Zara is fine.” My tone was softer as I added, “Thank you, Miss…?”
The girl's gaze widened in surprise but I could still smell her fear.
“Boone. Astrid Boone, ma’am.”
Miss Boone offered a small, nervous smile… well,almosta smile and I rolled my eyes at the ma’am.Gross.A voice rang out from the kitchen, and the boy she’d been holding hands with earlier appeared at the end of the hall.
“Astrid, are you—”
His gaze landed on me, and he practically ran down the hall, stopping just in front of Miss Boone. My lips twitched upward at the action.
“And you are?”
