Page 11 of Blackwarden

Rosalin

––––––––

When Keres fetched me again for dinner his posture had changed. There was now an urgency to his steps as we walked through the Gatehouse toward the dining room.

“Have you started reading the books provided to you?” he asked, his tone accusatory.

“A couple of them, yes, but that doesn’t teach me why—”

“You don’t need to know why.” He stopped abruptly and turned toward me, a scowl of frustration marring his gorgeous face. “You just need to know what and how.” He folded his arms as if to reiterate his frustration.

I glared at him, unable to form the words I wanted to say. Everything that came to mind wasn’t strong enough.

“This is impossible, Keres. You can’t expect me to have learned everything already. I’ve been here two days.”

He continued to walk down the hall ahead of me. “Which means you only have six more left. ”

“What?” I squeaked as I struggled to catch up. “That’s not nearly enough time to acquaint myself with an entirely new world and culture and—”

“I told you when you came, you had eight days.” He didn’t slow, his long strides reminding me of how much taller he was. “I hadn’t realized you wouldn’t take me seriously.”

He wasted no time seating himself in his usual spot, his dinner appearing almost instantly. The Keres who pulled a chair out for me was officially gone, replaced by this new grumpy male. His stoic expression had morphed into a scowl of disdain.

“I wasn’t exactly in the best frame of mind that day. You know, being ripped from my sister’s arms and all.”

He glared at me, sending me backward in my seat. I had just begun to think I didn’t need to be afraid of him. But this Keres, he seemed more like what I’d assumed a Dark Fae would be—arrogant, sharp, and uncaring.

“Do I need to run through the list with you again?” He held me with his glare, waiting for my answer.

“No,” I finally said, glancing down at my empty plate. I felt like a petulant child who’d just been reprimanded by her father. I was twenty-eight, far from being a child and he was far from being my father. “I remember.”

“Good.” He took a bite of his delicious smelling stew. “Because I haven’t the time to hold your hand, Ms. Greene.”

I crossed my arms but refused to look up at him.

What did he spend all his time on? I didn’t ask, because I knew he wouldn’t answer.

He never answered. I’d have to settle for wondering if this was the real Keres or if the male who’d carried me from the creepy room with the portraits was a truer representation.

And I hated not knowing which one I’d have to dine with at each meal.

After I’d summoned myself a bowl of significantly less delicious smelling stew, I ate it while staring straight ahead at my glass of wine, my thoughts a jumbled mess.

Six days. I still wasn’t used to summoning food from a magic house, how was I going to remember when to bow or how to address people, or where I should stand.

“As different as all of this seems, Ms. Greene.” I glanced up to find him staring at me, a sorrowful expression softening the hard lines of his face. “I’m confident your incessantly inquisitive nature will actually be beneficial in the Unseelie Court.”

There was something foreboding about his words that didn’t quite match the softness of his voice.

I was distinctly reminded I was still in the human world.

I had yet to see the true horrors of the Dark Fae.

My heart skipped a merciless rhythm at the mere mention of the Unseelie Court.

This place was just a preview of what I was bound to endure.

I suddenly found myself no longer hungry.

––––––––

After my disastrous second day in this strange place, I found I wasn’t brave enough to leave my suite again.

Instead, as evening melted into night, and I still wasn’t tired enough to sleep, I tested the limits of the Gatehouse.

Keres had said I had but to ask for whatever I wanted.

In all honesty, I hadn’t believed it was possible, but after witnessing the Gatehouse conjure my meals over the last two days, I was beginning to believe it was very much possible.

Hands on hips, I stood staring at the window that looked out to the pitch-black forest beyond, my mind going over all the things I could possibly desire.

Bastion, my old life, hearing my sister’s warm laugh one more time.

Tears prickled at the edges of my eyes, and I squeezed them shut.

Nope, I couldn’t think of everything I’d lost. I knew those were things no magical house could restore.

The first thing I asked for was a horse.

I thought maybe I could break out through the window and ride it to the nearest village before Keres could find me.

Who could blame me for trying? The brazier on the wall dimmed slightly before flaring back to full light as a beautiful, life-sized statue of a horse, crafted from the same black metal as the sculptures at the front doors, shimmered into existence in the corner of my sitting room .

“I see. So, this is how it works.” I might have felt silly talking to a house out loud, but as I did it, I found it helped with the loneliness that was clawing at my heart.

Curious if my imperfect imagining of the horse was the reason the Gatehouse had interpreted my desire as a statue, I pivoted to something a little less.

..sentient. I asked for an apple tree full of ripe apples.

I envision the exact apple tree from a neighbor’s orchard, focusing all my attention on the memory of Renee and I sitting in its shade.

I was rewarded with the strangest looking tree I’d ever seen.

Shiny black glass twisted into a trunk and tangled branches.

The leaves, much like the forest around the Gatehouse, were completely black.

The apples that hung from the branches were the same color as the one I’d accidentally summoned for my first meal in the dining room: a midnight apple as Keres had called it.

“Very funny.” I put my hands on my hips. “Is it even real?”

I tried to pluck one of the apples, but it was stuck fast to the branch—a sculpture, like the horse.

“No living things then. Noted.”

I thought maybe I’d try something easier.

A fluffy blanket. And just to test the limits a little, I imagined it cream colored with a pattern of green vines along the edges.

The Gatehouse gave me a blanket, but it was black, like everything else.

Upon closer inspection, there were vines in a dark shade of gray.

I sank my fingers into it and pulled it to my face, snuggling its softness. At least the fluffy part was right.

“Closer,” I said, as I pulled the blanket around my shoulders like a cloak.

I wanted to try one more thing. I imagined the book of fairy tales I’d checked out from the library in Fennigsville so many times the librarian had eventually just given it to me.

I wasn’t expecting much. The Gatehouse could give me a blanket but apparently not the color I’d imagined.

So, it probably wouldn’t be able to bring me my exact book.

After a moment of thinking it had ignored my request, I turned to sit back down only to find the book sitting on the chair.

My hands trembled as I picked it up. Had the Gatehouse brought me my actual book?

I flipped open the cover to the end paper in the front, where I had once written my name, and there it was in my horrible childhood handwriting.

I thumbed through the rest of the pages, finding my handwritten notes along the marings, or where I had labeled the things I’d found particularly interesting.

It was the same book, full of fanciful stories and elaborate illustrations of the Fair Folk.

I plopped down in the chair, pulling the blanket around me, suddenly very interested in reading something I had long ago memorized.

“Thank you,” I whispered, hugging the book to my chest. “I’ll forgive you for the horse and apple tree.”

I could be wrong, but it felt like a breeze wafted through my sitting room, brushing against the loose hair that had fallen around my face. I couldn’t help but smile. It was a mansion, not a person, but hopefully after this I could try to be less terrified of it.

––––––––

I waited until Keres came and collected me for breakfast. How he knew I needed escorting was concerning.

He told me he could feel my emotions but could he feel them from across the Gatehouse?

I was too terrified to ask because the same grumpy Dark Fae who’d been at dinner the evening before now sat across from me eating his eggs and toast in silence.

When he finished, he stared at me while I ate the last of my own breakfast of pastries and clotted cream.

Every second that passed urged my heart to beat faster.

“Today, I shall help you with etiquette.”

I jerked my attention to his stern face, as I choked down my last bite. “Excuse me?”

“You expressed wanting to know the why but let’s instead start with the what and the how. ”

I blinked a few times, trying to make sure I was awake, and this wasn’t some strange dream.

“You said you didn’t have time to hold my hand.”

He huffed a short breath through his nose with a bitter smirk. “Then you should be thankful I’m making time.”

“I...don’t think—”

“This isn’t hard, Ms. Greene.”

Heat burned in my cheeks. What was he insinuating? I stood from the table, but he remained seated, his cold eyes locked on my face.

“Do you seriously—”

“There should be plenty of room here.” He cut me off and with the grace of a dancer rose and faced me. “We can start with a simple curtsey.”

“I know how to curtsey.” I glowered at him, setting my jaw. How could he think me so unrefined? Sure, I was from a poor family, in a poor village, but this was common knowledge.