Page 14 of Blackwarden

I exhaled a sigh of relief as I slipped into the dining room.

The last thing I wanted was to run into Keres after everything that had transpired earlier in the day.

It would have been hard to explain. How did you tell a broody Fae that you couldn’t handle another moment gazing at his gorgeous face?

Especially when he seemed to know exactly how gorgeous he was and was more than happy to stare right back.

I eased the mystery door open and was rewarded with a well-appointed kitchen.

A row of cupboards lined one wall, broken into two sections by a massive workbench.

A bread oven took up a large portion of another wall, with a workbench and a wash basin.

Tiptoeing to the main workbench, I plucked a ripe green apple from a bowl heaped with fruit and pressed it to my lips while savoring the scent of it.

The sound of my teeth ripping through the peel seemed louder than it should have, but I didn’t care.

It was perhaps the most delicious apple I’d ever eaten and for a moment I was lost in memories of my sister.

How many times had we shared an apple at the market, or sitting in the sun-warmed grass along the road to our little house.

I missed Renee dreadfully, but I was satisfied with my choice to come in her place. She wouldn’t have handled all the dark strangeness as well. She likely would have hidden in her suite, only coming out for food if she could muster the bravery.

As I took more bites, Renee’s sweet smile wafted through my memories.

I ran my fingers over the workbench until they met another bowl.

This one was covered with a tea towel and my curiosity got the better of me.

I peeked under, finding a mound of rolls nestled beneath.

Taking two, I finished the apple, discarding the core in a waste bin before I ducked back into the dining room.

I ate one of the rolls while loitering at the window.

I could see nothing through the darkness of night.

I knew there were trees with creepy black leaves, and part of me was happy I couldn’t see them.

The buttery flavor of the scrumptious dinner roll filled my stomach with unexpected warmth, and I closed my eyes.

I could see my mother’s bread, perfectly flaky on the outside encapsulating a pillow of delicious heaven.

Sneaking back down the main corridor, I paused before turning down the hall toward my room.

The library was to the right. Keres was likely asleep and couldn’t disturb me at this hour.

I could rummage through the cupboards without interruptions.

I took a bite of the second roll and turned to the right, determined to finish where I’d left off before he’d so rudely surprised me earlier.

I opened the door just enough to slip through, praying to the Mother the hinges wouldn’t give me away.

There were two braziers glowing on the far side of the library that flared brighter with my presence.

Part of me wished I could have avoided the attention of the Gatehouse entirely, but it was likely unavoidable.

I was, after all, inside it, and whether it slept at all was a question for another time.

I scoured the shelves, fingers itching with curiosity as they flowed over the spines.

If I remembered correctly, there was a book on the far wall that had interested me.

A symbol on the bottom of the spine was the only identifier.

Once I found it, I slipped it from the shelf and dropped into one of the chairs beside a brazier, opening the book across my lap.

I stuffed the remains of the second roll between my lips and thumbed through the pages.

If I’d been more attentive as a child, I might have learned what some of the Old Fae script meant, but as it was the characters were strange, looping in and out of one another as they twined together into clusters of what I could only assume were sentences.

I couldn’t read it, and my frustration grew as I realized my entire midnight endeavor might have been for nothing.

It threatened to burst from my chest in a loud growl.

I slammed the book closed, glaring at the symbol on the cover as though it was the cause of all my troubles.

I’d likely found exactly what I needed but wasn’t able to get any answers from it .

I traced my fingers over the surface of the leather tooling, following the curve of the symbol.

Keres wore it on a pendant around his neck.

What exactly did it mean? Other than telling me it was his family name, a non-answer, he’d refused to give me more information.

It was just another question he ignored.

I hated that he seemed happy enough to answer some questions but not others.

Rising from the chair, I slipped the book back into its place before I eyed the cupboard again.

It hadn’t contained much: a pile of stationary, a collection of pens, and several vials of different colored inks.

If I wasn’t mistaken there had been a stack of what looked like journals as well, something I could possibly find more information in.

I pulled it open but stood back, arms falling to my sides in defeat.

It was empty. Completely and utterly empty.

Not a scrap of paper. Not even a smudge of ink or a speck of dust. Keres must have cleared it out.

I stood, staring into it for another moment, letting my mind tumble over all the reasons he would have done this.

Perhaps he feared I’d do exactly what I was doing.

I wanted to get my hands on one of those journals even more.

Instead, I crept back into the hall and slipped into my room, careful to close the door silently behind me.

I leaned against the door, letting my head fall back with a thud. I’d found nothing and gotten exactly zero answers.

Again.

––––––––

Morning came entirely too early. From the enchanted wardrobe, I managed to find something both comfortable and modest, though today, it offered only blood-red gowns.

I couldn’t help but wonder if this was something Keres had requested.

Still, it was better than black, which was all it had provided to me thus far.

Keres sat stiffly in his chair. His eyes followed me as I crossed the room and sat in my usual seat across from him. Goosebumps rippled down my arms while I tried to ignore how he stared. It was an unyielding glare. One that made the hair on the nape of my neck stand up .

“Midnight ventures to the library are not permitted, Ms. Greene.”

My eyes snapped to his. How had he known? Did the Gatehouse actually tell him?

“I...um...”

“If there’s something you need, you have but to ask.” He glanced down at the empty plate in front of him and the same boring breakfast of soft-boiled eggs and toast materialized before him.

I nearly fell out of my chair as a green apple and two rolls appeared on my own plate.

“Interesting choice,” he said.

The left side of his lips quirked up when I glanced in his direction before his attention returned to his eggs.

After the initial shock wore off, I grabbed the apple and pressed it to my lips as I had the night before.

Closing my eyes, I let the smell wash over me, saving me from the merciless way his eyes never left me.

The scent was sweet and sour, the perfect apple.

The peel pressed against my lips was so soft.

A memory of Bastion—how sometimes he would run his thumb over my lower lip before he kissed me.

A soft touch. Bastion had always been so caring and attentive.

The calluses on his rugged hands were rough, but his touch could be so incredibly gentle.

A flash of heat plummeted into my stomach as I remembered the night before he’d been killed.

His hands had held me extra tight, as if he’d known his fate.

How many times had I wished for those hands on my body just one more time.

His lips on mine. The cinnamon smell of his skin flooding my senses and driving me to the brink of existence.

When I opened my eyes, I was surprised to find Keres staring at the apple, a bite of egg halfway to his mouth. He cleared his throat and looked away as he stuffed the bite between his lips.

Before I allowed myself to think more on his reaction I took a massive bite of the apple, chewing it loudly, hoping to elicit some other reaction from him.

Instead, he continued to eat his eggs as though he was the only person in the room.

He ripped a corner from his piece of toast, and I nearly lost myself watching his fingers as he slipped the bread between his lips.

He stared at me. Again. And in my attempts to avoid his eye contact my gaze fell back to his hands as they ripped another bite of toast.

Those hands. My blood seemed to boil through me at the thought of Keres’ hands on my body. When had my traitorous thoughts changed from fear and anger to... this?

Another bite of apple, an attempt to distract myself from the way his throat moved as he swallowed his tea in smooth gulps, his eyes returning to me as I finished the apple and selected one of the two rolls. It was the same as the one I’d swiped the night before, buttery and perfect.

This was agony, the way my thoughts shifted back and forth between Bastion’s crooked smile to Keres’ broody stares.

“What is it you needed from the library so badly that it would force you from your suite in the middle of the night, Ms. Greene?”

I stiffened. I couldn’t answer. My mind was swallowed up in the memory of a man I had loved, and a Dark Fae I shouldn’t want. I pretended not to hear him. How many times had he ignored my questions? I should be allowed to ignore this one.

I took another bite of the buttery roll, letting it melt on my tongue. I closed my eyes and savored the comfortable taste of home. It didn’t last. The thought of Keres’ hands crept back in, the warmth of him, the steady thrum of his heart against my face when he’d carried me.

I ripped another bite away from the roll with my teeth, desperate to banish the ache for his touch, the scent of him.

“Very well then.” He stood, leaving half a slice of toast and most of his second egg behind. “Enjoy your wanderings, but please...” he trailed off, drawing my eyes to his. He wore the face he’d first greeted me with—cold and uncaring. “No wandering after midnight.”

My eyes tracked him as he crossed the dining room, a burning pit of anger simmering in my gut.

Lesson learned. The Gatehouse, it seemed, had no intention of letting me roam freely without reporting back to him.

If I wanted to eat, I needed to attend meals.

Never wander after midnight. Always request what my heart desired, though I’d tested this and the Gatehouse did not in fact provide me with whatever my heart desired.

“I want to know more about the curse,” I blurted out, my frustration bubbling over.

He stopped halfway through the dining room door and with deliberate slowness turned, his eyes making a slow journey across the floor to my face.

“What makes you so certain there’s a curse?”

I was out of my seat in an instant, fury igniting my insides. “Really, Keres? What else could it be?” I folded my arms and lifted my chin, meeting his gaze without flinching. “Something’s at work here. I know it. And I’m done pretending otherwise.”

He didn’t move, limbs rigid at his sides, dark hair tangled around the sharp curve of his horns.

His black, bottomless eyes locked on mine, boring straight through me.

He’d chosen a form fitting doublet in the same midnight blue as his hair, so dark it was nearly black, open down his sternum, the delicious line between the muscles of his chest on full display.

His pendant rested against those muscles, the symbol mocking me as it rose and fell with every breath he took.

He opened his mouth to speak, a flash of fear crossing his face before he squeezed his eyes and lips closed.

“I know you probably think I’m just a stupid human, but I’m not a complete idiot.” I took a confident step toward him. “There is a curse, isn’t there?”

Again, he opened his mouth. And again, that flash of something akin to pain or fear or despair before he closed it.

My frustration was a solid thing in my chest, clawing its way up my throat and I couldn’t stop it

“I know you can’t lie. I know your kind are more susceptible to magical curses.” I took another step closer. “And I know—”

“Stop. ”

With one word he froze me in place. Ice crept through my veins as his shadows wrapped around me.

It felt like shards of glass cutting through my joints, shredding the willpower from my muscles.

He moved toward me with metered steps, his eyes holding mine, a darkness so deep within that look.

I tried to wriggle free, but all I succeeded in doing was send flashes of agony down my arms and legs.

I could do nothing but glare at him as I blinked back tears of pain.

He took another step, lips parting as he came close enough that I could see the threads of silver that wove through his black irises.

He reached for my face. My first instinct to pull away failed.

I was firmly frozen in place by whatever magic he had used on me.

I balled my hands into fists, burying my nails in the flesh of my palms. Those elegant fingers of his slid across my jaw before he tucked an index finger beneath my chin and tipped my face to his.

He shifted closer. Too close. A flash of fear simmered through me from the intensity of his glare before it sank into the depths of my core, turning my breath shallow with need.

“We won’t speak of this again,” he said, voice low and soft as he leaned his head beside mine. I shivered as his breath brushed over the shell of my ear. “Will we, Rosalin.”

It wasn’t a question. He backed away, his eyes dragging down my face to my lips and holding there. Then, before I could say another word he dissolved into the shadows, leaving me standing rigid and alone beside the table as the ice that held me firmly in place melted from the inside out.

The tears I’d held at bay broke free and pooled in the corners of my eyes until they overflowed down my cheeks.

Nearly a full minute passed before I collapsed on the floor in a heap of spent adrenaline.

I touched my chin where the echo of his fingers remained.

How could I be so terrified, and yet, so attracted to him? Attracted to a Dark Fae— to a monster.

I buried my face in my hands and wept.