Page 14

ALIX

I blink and several days go by.

I get used to the backward schedule and end up sleeping when it’s light out—the consequence of which is I never encounter the cursed court, but I also start to feel a little depressed. I thought seasonal depression was bad in Chicago, but here, it’s like a thousand times worse.

When it’s dark out, I can leave my room and do whatever I want—the problem is there’s nothing to fucking do. I have no phone, no Kindle, no TV, and no podcasts. I’ve never been more aware of how addicted to technology I am, until suddenly I’m living in basically 1750 and housework is starting to look like a fun and exciting alternative to staring at the walls.

Whenever I want to leave my room, Daemon accompanies me. Usually, he brings one of his friends under the pretense of making sure I’m watched at all times. When he brings Kastian or Jett, he spends all his time talking to them and acting as if I’m not there. Today, however, he brings Fox, so the silence between us is more palpable than ever.

I wander aimlessly down the winding path that leads through the castle garden. The snow from the other day is still covering the ground, and most of the plants are dormant or covered in frost. The only flowers that seem to be able to stand the weather are the roses, which look almost unreal with their red and pink petals dusted in ice.

It’s as cold as February in Chicago, and though I’m bundled in a fur-trimmed red cape and matching gloves, I really miss my North Face jacket and beat up Uggs.

“Do the Fae not get cold?” I ask, glancing at Fox and Daemon over my shoulder.

“We do,” Daemon responds. “Why?”

“Cause your winter clothing doesn’t seem all that warm. I wondered if you never had a reason to make warm clothes.”

“If you’re cold, we can go inside,” he grumbles.

“So I can sit and stare at the wall until dinner? Oh goodie.”

I walk a few steps further along the path, absently trailing my hand over the bushes and pushing the snow off the leaves. I stop at one of the still blooming roses and reach over to dust the ice from its petals. A long thorn stabs through my glove and into my finger, making pain shoot up my arm. “Ow!”

I pull off my glove and stick my finger in my mouth, sucking on the wound.

There’s a prolonged silence where Daemon and Fox just watch me, and I’m nearly bowled over with shock when Fox is the one to break it. “In Thermia, it’s always winter and our clothing is warm.”

“It’s always winter?” I ask, popping my finger back out of my mouth. “Do you mean it’s just a cold climate or?—”

“It’s always winter,” he repeats. “The seasons never change anymore.”

Okay…weird distinction, but I’m willing to go with it. At least we’re talking about something.

“Did they used to change?” I ask.

Fox looks uncomfortable, not because of my question, I suspect, but because he just doesn’t like to talk. “Yes.”

“Are they cursed too?” I ask, directing my question more to Daemon than to Fox, who seems relieved that he doesn’t have to keep talking to me.

Daemon shakes his head. “Not exactly, but Vernallis isn’t the only kingdom with issues, Peaches.”

“I suppose you’re not going to elaborate on that?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know that much about it. You can pester Fox if you want, but good luck with that.”

My eyes dart to the huge blond man, and I shake my head. “Never mind. Let’s just go inside.”

They escort me back to my room.

“Can I have that copy of A Kingdom of Thorns ?” I ask Daemon.

“I left it at the Summer Palace. I didn’t think it was worth risking anyone here seeing it.”

“Oh.”

“Why? Haven’t you read it before?”

“Dozens of times, but I’m so bored I’d think reading the back of a shampoo bottle was exciting.”

Daemon looks a little guilty, his eyes shifting to the side rather than looking directly at me. “If you want to read, there are hundreds of books here.”

“Really?” I perk up slightly. “Where?”

He starts to answer, but he’s cut off by a shrill scream from the end of the corridor. “Daemon!”

I turn around to find three blonde women coming around the corner toward us. They’re all absurdly beautiful just like all the rest of the Fae, dressed in identical silk gowns in different colors—one red, one gold, and one green.

The woman in the green gown breaks away from the group and runs toward us, evident excitement on her face. She throws herself at Daemon. “I heard you were back,” she cries, “but I hardly believed it.”

His eyes widen in surprise and he puts his arms out to catch her, as if on instinct. “Hello, Claudette.”

She pulls back and slaps him playfully on the arm. “That’s all I get? Hello? It’s been ninety years!”

I roll my eyes. I wish I could say this was the first time someone had thrown themselves at Daemon, but it’s not. In only the couple of days since I’ve been here, I’ve noticed he’s very popular. The entire court seems thrilled to see him and we’re often stopped so he can catch up with acquaintances. Still…none of them have been quite as pretty as this woman.

Daemon lets go of Claudette and steps back, smiling slightly. “How are you?”

“Oh, the same.” She sighs.

She begins chattering away, telling him about her sister, who has evidently gotten married recently and whatever else has gone on since they last saw each other. I don’t want to assume anything, but it seems like this is an ex-girlfriend, or at the very least, a former hookup.

Which is totally fine.

I don’t care at all—really. It’s just that I feel awkward, trapped in a conversation I’m clearly not part of. I shift from foot to foot, and out of sheer discomfort, I fixate on trying to place the origin of her accent instead of actually listening to what she’s saying.

Daemon has always sounded slightly Irish to me, while Kastian, Odessa, and Jett sound British. Fox doesn’t talk enough to be completely sure of where he’s from, but he doesn’t sound anything like this woman. She’s French, I decide finally—or at least, something like it.

“I couldn’t believe it when I heard about what happened in the throne room.” Claudette says so loudly that I’m forced to tune back into their conversation.

“You weren’t there?” Daemon asks, sounding more relaxed than I’ve heard him since before I knew who he really was.

She shakes her head and laughs merrily. “To think, the one time I decide to take a long bath, I miss the only interesting thing to happen in decades.”

Daemon grins. “It wasn’t that exciting.”

She laughs and smacks his arm again. “Tell that to Foulo.”

Okay. That’s enough for me.

We’re not far from my room and I can walk by myself. I don’t have to stand here feeling uncomfortable. Actually, the best possible thing I could do is leave and give them privacy. Daemon doesn’t owe me anything. I hardly even know him.

I don’t care.

I back away from them and take several long strides down the hall. I glance back. Daemon hasn’t noticed that I’m moving, but Fox clearly does. He looks at me and shrugs. I take that to mean he doesn’t care if I walk away. Perfect.

I take a page out of Fox’s book and don’t say anything as I slip away down the hall alone. The halls are so echoey that I can still hear Daemon’s distant voice even after I’ve turned the corner.

I walk on autopilot, my eyes fixed loosely on the floor in front of me. Then, I jump when I hear a shout behind me. “Where the fuck is she?”

Oh shit.

I hear Daemon yelling something, then the muffled low response of Fox answering. Claudette’s high-pitched voice chimes in, and then loud footsteps echo as clearly Daemon starts running after me.

Oh shit, shit, shit! This is so not good.

My pulse picks up, and I lift up my skirt and start running too.

I don’t even know why I’m running. I’m not doing anything wrong walking down a hall by myself. But also, I really don’t want Daemon to catch me right now. I don’t want to have to explain myself, and I especially don’t want to look jealous when I am not. At. All.

I just wanted to go back to my room because I’m tired. Being jealous is actually fucking crazy. I need to be more evolved than this.

I hammer that idea into my head as I jog down the hall, fully aware of the irony and hypocrisy in what I’m doing. Admitting you have a problem is the first step to recovery, and I will certainly be recovering…after I find somewhere to hide.

This castle feels like an endless maze of hallways and stairs, but I’ve kind of got the hang of the layout… kind of.

Daemon’s voice echoes as loudly as his footsteps, and the cacophony makes it sound as if he’s everywhere at once.

At the end of the hall, there’s a closed wooden door. I throw it open and keep moving. After a second, the door swings shut behind me with a snap and abruptly all sound cuts off. I stop walking and turn back to the door, startled by the sudden silence. Huh, they’ve got really heavy doors here.

Now that I can’t hear Daemon anymore, my pulse slows a fraction. I slow to a brisk walk.

“Isabelle!”

I freeze and glance up. Striding toward me is King Thorne. He’s wearing a green silk waistcoat today and a cloak over it, as if he just came from outside. His expression is dark—somewhere between angry and suspicious.

“Oh, hello!” I say brightly, raising a hand in greeting.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” King Thorne demands, anger heavy in his tone.

“Uh…” I falter. “Sorry…is something wrong?”

He stops in front of me, practically seething. I step back, startled.

He’s clearly mad, but I have no idea why. I’ve seen the king at dinner several nights in a row now, but he still feels like a complete stranger. I can’t tell him I ran away from Daemon because I’m crazy and I don’t like watching him talk to a pretty woman.

“I’m sorry. I was just exploring,” I say finally. “You know…reacquainting myself with the palace.”

Thorne reaches me and stops right in front of me, forcing me to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact. His expression is dark. Livid. “You’re free to do whatever you like, but you know you are not allowed in my private wing without my permission!”

I glance around. Is that where we are? His private wing? I don’t remember anyone saying I couldn’t go there, but maybe it’s supposed to be obvious? “I’m so s-sorry,” I splutter. “I honestly didn’t realize that’s where we were. It’s been a long time since I’ve been here and I guess I forgot.”

Thorne glowers. “You are not to enter this tower. Ever. And for that matter, why are you alone?”

“I’m sorry,” I repeat, just hoping he’ll drop it.

I’ve learned from years of living with my mother, and later from living with my husband, that the fastest path to peace is to apologize. Profusely. Even if I have no idea what I’m supposed to be sorry for.

It seems that this strategy is universal, because King Thorne deflates slightly. His anger recedes a fraction and his lip curls in a sneer. “Where is Ashwater? Shouldn’t he be keeping you from forgetting where you’re supposed to be?”

“Oh…I’m not sure where he is, actually.”

His eyes narrow to slits and immediately I realize I’ve said the wrong thing. I should have lied and said there was something serious Daemon had to deal with. Simply not knowing where he is actually makes things worse.

“What I mean is, I don’t know precisely,” I quickly add. “He had to go deal with something important, and I don’t know where that would be happening…”

Oh my God. I am the worst liar on the planet.

“What was so important to ignore my orders to guard you at all times?”

“Um, I don’t know. You have to ask—” I search frantically for the name in the back of my head. “—Frowno!”

“Foulo?”

“Yes, that’s it. Sorry. Foulo needed Daemon’s help with something.”

I’m pretty sure I’ve managed to fit so many apologies into this interaction that the word “sorry” has started to lose its meaning. I hate feeling like I have to take the blame for things that aren’t my fault, but at least it worked. Thorne now looks less angry and more perplexed. I’m not sure if that’s better but anything I say seems to make it worse so I don’t continue.

“Would you care to walk down to dinner together?” Thorne asks after a long second.

I blink, startled by his sudden change in tone. “Oh…sorry, what?”

“Would you like to walk to dinner together?” he repeats.

“But I’m not dressed.”

He glances over me with absolutely zero heat in his gaze. “You look fine. Come, we’ll go now.”

“Oh. Um, okay.”

King Thorne takes my elbow and guides me back down the hall and through the door I now realize was the entrance to his private wing.

Whatever that means.

The silence stretches endlessly, but not in a companionable way like it did with Fox. It’s awkward and leaves me feeling obligated to fill the silence.

“I’ve been happy to be back in the castle,” I say.

Thorne nods. “Not exploring too much, I hope?”

“Uh, no. Not really.”

“Good.”

I try several more versions of inane chitchat, none of which seem to have the slightest effect on him. From the way he greeted me in the entrance hall, I thought he would have much more enthusiasm about these dinners, but I guess one kiss was enough to last him until the wedding?

We enter the dining room and sit on opposite sides of the absurdly long table.

“Do you usually have guests?” I ask.

“Yes. Courtiers often join me for dinner.”

I let out a relieved breath. At least he answered me. “They could still join us. I mean, I’d like to meet your friends.”

And I’d like to have someone to help me carry the conversation.

“No,” Thorne says flatly. “I want to spend this time getting reacquainted.”

“Right…”

I’m more than a little relieved when our food is served because at least it gives me something else to talk about.

“This is good,” I indicate my plate with my fork.

King thorn looks down at his own plate and nods once, but doesn’t continue the conversation.

I sigh. Here we go again.

“Where did you go today?” I try again.

He frowns at me. “Why?”

“No reason. Just looking for something to talk about.”

His shoulders relax ever so slightly. “Hunting.”

“Wolves?” I ask hopefully. “I had a run-in with one when I arrived.”

“Really? Tell me about that.”

I open my mouth, then pause. I probably can’t tell him anything about that, because the question would be why I was so afraid to find myself in Ellender? Why wasn’t I wearing clothes? Why was I so cozy with my guard?

Shit.

Just then, the doors fly open and Daemon bursts into the room, looking frantic. The king and I look up from our dinner in benign silence. Daemon sucks in a sharp breath, panting as he looks back and forth between us.

“Nice of you to finally remember your job,” Thorne snaps. His words are casual, but I can hear a cold bite in his voice.

Daemon straightens and strides across the room in total silence. He leans against the wall in his usual place while the king and I return to our dinner.

But I can’t eat.

I can feel Daemon’s cold, furious gaze on me all through the rest of dinner. He’s seething, and I know that the moment we’re dismissed to walk back to my room, he’s going to unleash all that fury on me.

Strangely, I’m almost looking forward to it.

Sure enough, the very moment Daemon and I exit the dining room, he rounds on me. His voice is a dangerous whisper. “What the fuck, Alix.”

“Isabelle,” I correct, looking pointedly around at the public entrance hall.

“I don’t give a single fuck what your name is. What were you thinking?”

I raise an eyebrow. “Um, I was thinking that King Thorne asked me to walk to dinner with him and it would have been really weird and suspicious to say no.”

“Bullshit. You left before that.”

“Whoops,” I reply sarcastically. “I forgot that I’m a child and can’t walk down a fucking hallway on my own without my daddy or my babysitter.”

His eyes flash, his chest rising and falling with each breath as he takes another step closer, breaching the last of my personal space. He inhales sharply, nostrils flaring, then flicks his tongue across his lips—like he’s tasting something in the air. “I thought you left,” he growls. “And then I thought maybe Thorne wanted to have dinner with you alone because he knows who you are. Anything could have fucking happened, Alix.”

“That’s stupid.” I shove at his arm and brush past him, striding purposefully down the hall toward my room. Or at least, what I think is the direction of my room.

Daemon chases after me, his emerald eyes narrowed on me and me alone. “What was I supposed to think?”

“Maybe that the king wanted to spend time with Isabelle because they’re—we’re—engaged?”

“You should have told me where you were.”

“How was I supposed to tell you where I was when you weren’t there?”

“You should have waited for me. I looked up and you were just gone.”

I stop short and spin to face him again. He skids to a halt and nearly runs into me, leaving us mere inches apart.

“You were busy,” I say. “I’m not going to wait around for any man. My time and attention belong to people who are thinking about no one but me.”

Without warning, his hand shoots out and lands on the wall behind my head, boxing me in. He leans down so his mouth is mere inches from mine and bares his teeth. “Then I should get every single minute of your fucking attention.”

I suck in a startled breath. I meet his eyes and my pulse pounds in my throat and…lower.

It is definitely not lost on me that Daemon is just as angry now as Thorne was when he found me, yet I haven’t apologized to Daemon once. I don’t really feel any need to shrink myself around him, or just say whatever will end the argument fastest.

Meanwhile, I’m supposed to be acting like I’m in love with the king, but he and I can’t even seem to manage a polite conversation. When Thorne looks at me, there’s absolutely no heat, but when Daemon and I snap at each other, there is enough heat to light the damn building on fire.

In an instant, my eyes flick to his pulse visibly pounding in his throat and I imagine how easy it would be to stretch up on my toes and lick that spot.

“Back up. You can’t be so close to me when anyone could walk by.”

His gaze darts to my lips for a fraction of a second. “You’re suddenly really interested in telling me what I can’t do.”

My heartbeat speeds up again. Fuck, I don’t even know what we’re talking about anymore. Is this about Claudette or the king or Daemon and me? What am I even mad about again?

Daemon looms over me, breathing heavily. There’s a raw energy, a power, rolling off him in waves. I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to be trembling, cowered by his dominance. And if I know myself, if he were any other man, I would be. I’d be terrified.

But instead, I’m defiant. Exhilarated. Turned on.

My pulse pounds in my core, and my breathing is labored. My skin feels too sensitive, and I could swear there’s an electricity sparking between us. Since the moment he first opened his mouth, this has felt less like fighting and more like foreplay.

Somewhere in the echoing halls of the castle, I hear distant voices, and the sound is like a bucket of cold water over my head.

Daemon glances to the sound, but doesn’t seem as bothered as I am. He doesn’t step back from me. Rather, he moves ever so slightly closer, until I can feel the warmth of his body everywhere.

I glance around the empty hallway. We can’t keep standing like this. And more, we can’t keep arguing because the tension is so high that it’s about to break right here.

I close my eyes, already half regretting this. “Look…” I run a hand through my hair. “I’m sorry if this became a bigger issue than it needed to be.”

“You’re what?” he blurts out, the heat in his eyes cooling with confusion.

“I’m sorry,” I repeat, knowing that word is exactly the one that will defuse the situation. “Everything is fine. The king was mad that I went into his private wing, or whatever?—”

A growl rumbles through his chest. “You went where ?”

“His private wing. I got lost, but he didn’t seem to notice anything weird about me so I think it’s all going to be okay. You should probably find Foulo and pretend something serious happened in case the king asks about it.”

“Alix, what the?—”

“Anyway,” I barrel on, talking over his protests. “Going forward, if you’re busy, you can just send Fox, Jett or Kastian to watch me.”

Daemon glowers down at me, still standing so close that it would be all too easy to close the distance between us. Something dark flashes in his gaze. “Would you prefer they watch you instead of me?”

“I don’t really care. I want to get through the next month in one piece. I’m sure your friends can handle keeping me from dying for a few hours while you’re busy.”

“Busy with what?” he snaps. “Why do you keep saying that? The only thing I’m busy with is you.”

“You know, with Lynette.” Ugh, that was petty. I know her name.

Somehow, this has become about my issues—my marriage, my standards for how I want to be treated, and the trauma that bubbled up the second I lost his attention in favor of another woman. Which isn’t really fair.

“I mean, Claudette,” I correct myself.

I am calm. Healed. Not at all toxic.

Daemon looks confused, bordering on frustrated. “Claudette and her sisters are just old acquaintances. It’s a small court, and there’s an even smaller group of us under the age of two hundred. She was just saying hello.”

The petty side of me wants to ask if that hello had a happy ending, but I restrain myself. “It’s totally fine. You don’t need to explain yourself to me.”

“Evidently I do because you’re not letting me do my job.”

“Which is what exactly?”

“To protect you.”

“Protect me from what?” I snap. “As far as I can tell, the only times I’ve nearly died have had to do with you, so I don’t need you constantly hovering. Send your friends to watch me or don’t, but don’t act like I owe you anything.”

With that, I shove past him for the final time and march to my room alone.

Definitely not calm, healed, or rational.