Page 26

AMELIA

Seated in my opulent floating carriage, a sense of dread fills me when the tall stone walls of Sorsston come into sight, as well as the castle towers.

Tristan has mentioned nothing about the possibility of me visiting my family members, but in all fairness, I haven’t asked if I could see them. The truth is, I’m not sure I want to.

Guilt hits me. I should want to visit Mama as well as my sisters, but the situation is so complicated I doubt the visits would be happy ones. The letters have likely reached them by now, so at least they know I’m alive and safe.

That’s the gist of what I told them in the five letters I wrote, one to my mother and one to each of my sisters.

I told them I’d left Lord Nevel because he was a violent man who was treating me with great cruelty, and I told them I was somewhere far away, safe and sound. I told them I probably wouldn’t see them again but begged them not to worry.

My guilt deepens. Despite my best efforts, they are all likely worried about me. Not that I can blame them. If the situation were reversed, I would be worried sick about whichever one of them had fled Sorsston after suffering an abusive marriage.

As the city grows closer, my unease increases. I try to convince myself it’s nothing, but it doesn’t work. I try to tell myself that I’m only upset because I’m in close proximity to the family I can’t visit, as well as my friends who are still working in the castle.

I used to dream about leaving Sorsston, even as a child. I used to wish I could travel across the realm, going from city to city as I sold charcoal drawings, likenesses of people I would draw on the spot in a bustling marketplace.

I withdraw the leather casing from my bag that contains the only drawings I have left, the ones I hid from my father and somehow managed to smuggle with me on the fateful day he brought me to the castle.

I sort through the pictures, images of my mother and sisters, as well as our old dog, Miss Peaches, and a cranky cat that used to linger on our porch that I’d lovingly named Prince Whiskers.

My heart aches as I stare at the images.

It's been ages since I’ve drawn anything. I never managed to get my hands on a charcoal pencil while I was working in the castle. Later, after my marriage, I’d asked Lord Nevel to buy me one. He’d erupted in a fury and said he would buy me a ‘stupid fucking pencil’ the second I birthed him a son.

Given that it’s been years since I’ve drawn anything, I’m not even sure the skill remains, though my fingers itch to try.

I glance out the window at Tristan, and as though he senses me staring, he looks my way and offers me a warm smile and a wave.

I return his smile and wave back, and I can’t help but notice the strange glances that pass between his soldiers.

I suspect they’re starting to realize the way he treats me is rather unusual by fae standards.

If I asked Tristan for a charcoal pencil, I’m certain that he would not only procure one for me, but he would probably buy me a dozen if not a hundred. He seems so eager to please me. A glance around the luxurious carriage is proof enough of that.

As I peer at the replenishable candy tray, I begin to wonder if he included it because of the advice I’d given Prince Lucas regarding how to make Yvette fall in love with him.

According to Tristan, I’d told the prince that one way he might encourage Yvette’s affections was to surprise her with thoughtful presents, like a bracelet with beads the color of her eyes, or a box of candies from her favorite shop.

The carriage comes to a stop, and the soldiers immediately get to work erecting tents in neat lines right outside the walls of Sorsston. I swallow hard as I glance at the castle towers.

Have any of my fellow servants perished or disappeared during my absence? My spirits darken at the thought, and all the horrifying acts of violence I witnessed in the castle come rushing back.

I glance at Tristan again, but he doesn’t meet my gaze this time. He’s busy giving his soldiers orders. A group of fae males surrounds him, along with a few females, some with their wings out, likely the highborn fae who’d patrolled the skies during our journey south.

My stomach flips when I consider where we might be sleeping tonight.

Will we sleep in Tristan’s huge tent? Or will we sleep in the castle?

During the early days of the fae occupation, most of the highborn fae took rooms in the castle.

My throat burns when I consider reuniting with my fellow servants, though I doubt Tristan would permit me to spend any time with them.

He’ll want to keep me sequestered, and protected, in whatever room we’ll be sleeping inside.

To my great relief, a few seconds later, I spot Tristan’s servants erecting his tent near the carriage. Thank the gods. Surely if they’re going to the trouble of setting up the massive tent, that means we’ll be sleeping there.

Maybe it makes me a coward, but I’m averse to staying in the castle and possibly encountering my fellow servants because I want to remain in ignorance about who’s still alive and who’s not. My eyes sting, and I blink fast. I just don’t want to know.

I consider Tristan’s strange behavior last night, when he’d suddenly excused himself from the tent just before dinner. Not long after his departure, the screams of the human woman stopped, and for the remainder of the night, I didn’t hear any other screams.

Did he order his soldiers to stop hurting their war prizes and pleasure slaves?

Maybe… maybe I shouldn’t allow myself to remain in ignorance about the status of the castle servants.

Maybe I should do whatever I can to improve their treatment.

I decide I’ll ask Tristan about it as soon as the opportunity presents itself.

Given how eager he is to please me, maybe he’ll do what he can to ease the lives of my former workmates.

I watch as the castrated, glamoured slaves carry furniture and other items into Tristan’s tent.

Every night, it’s arranged the same way, and though it’s an astounding realization, his tent has started to feel welcoming.

Almost like a home. It’s the one place no one has ever hurt me.

It’s quickly become my refuge, just as Tristan has.

The huge fae general who’s beginning to hold my affection approaches the carriage. My pulse races as I wonder if it’s too late to push him away, too late to guard my heart.

Sometimes it feels like falling for him is inevitable, which is a scary thought because how could we ever share a happy ending? Among his people, I have no rights, no freedoms. Only anguish awaits at the conclusion of our time together.

Despite my dark musings, I can’t help but smile when Tristan opens the door and gives me a tender look. I sense his happiness to be near me after a long day of travel.

He takes my hand and assists me in stepping out of the carriage. “Come, sweet human, and I will help you get settled in the tent. Then I’m afraid I must leave you alone for dinner. Unfortunately, I must attend to some matters within the walls of Sorsston, and I’m afraid I might be gone all night.”

“Gone all night?” I think about the fact that I can bypass his wards so easily, as well as the wards created by other highborn fae.

If I ever had a chance of escaping him, it would be here in Sorsston.

Rather than heading north into the mountains, this time I could head south toward the ocean I’ve never seen.

Maybe I could buy passage on a merchant vessel that’s headed for some faraway isle, a place Tristan might never think to look.

As he guides me into the tent, he tenses, and I sense a sudden change in his mood. I dare a glance his way to find him glaring at me, as though he somehow knows the turn my thoughts just took. Worry ripples through me at the prospect.

“Yes, gone all night,” he finally replies in a terse tone.

He grasps my upper arms and gazes down at me, and there’s not much kindness in his eyes.

“There will be guards stationed all around the tent, over a dozen of them, Amelia, so don’t go getting any ideas about escape.

How many times must I tell you that you’re mine?

” His fingers start to tighten on my arms, but then he releases me and takes a step back, and I sense his guilt over grabbing me and speaking so harshly.

Then I sense something else—his recognition of my thoughts.

He’s furious that I was just thinking about running away. Not just furious, but hurt. He’s also stunned that I would consider hopping a merchant vessel and sailing away from the continent.

Oh, Gods. He knows my thoughts.

He knows.

I gulp hard and wonder if he already realizes I’m able to sense his thoughts and feelings. I also wonder how long he’s had the ability to decipher mine. Not long, I hope.

I blink back tears. “All right. I won’t try to escape.” I don’t bother adding ‘tonight’ or anything specific to my promise, because what does it matter? Why should it matter if I ever break a promise to him?

“Try to get some rest, sweet human.” His voice is far gentler than it was moments ago, and I sense his reluctance to leave. I sense his frustration that duty is calling him to the... castle .

The castle! My anxieties about my former workmates increase. I try to penetrate his mind further and discover what I might about the trouble in Sorsston, but it doesn’t work.

I suppose I’m only able to learn his thoughts when he’s actively having them. I can’t sift through his memories looking for anything specific. What a shame. It would be helpful now and then.

“I’ll see you when you return.” I try but fail to force a smile. I’m too worried about the servants in the castle, and I’m too unsettled by the realization that he can sometimes sense my thoughts.

He casts a look around the tent, meets my eyes one last time, then steps outside, leaving me alone.