Page 38 of Kingdom of Briars and Roses (Cursed Fae Courts #1)

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Aurelia

I t didn’t dawn on me until too late that it might’ve been incredibly reckless to end up in the middle of nowhere alone with the prince I wasn’t engaged to marry. When I finally slowed to a walk, I was hyper-aware of how isolated we were. Thick, autumn woods bordered us on both sides. Far behind us, Grey Oak castle loomed, shrouded in fog. Above us, clouds muted all but the most determined of the sun’s rays, leaving the landscape in a gray gloom.

Ahead, the path narrowed as it wound down the craggy hillside. Rather than fall back into single file, Rydian pulled his horse in closer beside me. So close that our boots brushed in their stirrups.

Glancing over, I found him staring into the distance with a thoughtful slant to his brow. My gaze lingered, admiring the strong curve of his jaw and the fullness of his mouth—even if it was set in a hard line.

He looked over at me suddenly, and heat rose to my cheeks.

Busted.

He didn’t comment on my staring, though I wasn’t sure the subject of his question was much better. “A strange coincidence about that donation center.”

I shrugged, secretly bracing myself for his reaction. “I wouldn’t know.”

He snorted. “Right.”

When he didn’t answer, I peeked at his face. But the wry humor was gone. He looked like he had earlier when I’d come out of my meeting with the king. A deadly sort of concern was etched in his brow as he asked, “What will you do about Duron?”

I wanted to tell him it was none of his damn business, but instead, the truth tumbled out. “I will refuse him.”

He said nothing as we rode on.

I didn’t bother with conversation, relieved to embrace silence for once. I’d lived with it for seven years, to the point of near-madness some days, but I couldn’t help feeling that, since coming here with Callan, every word uttered had been a waste.

Lies.

Betrayal.

Manipulation.

I had to get away from it, even if it meant fighting for survival on my own. But I couldn’t do that until I found a way to stop the donations.

“Does this lead to the Osphiris?” I asked as we finally made it to the bottom of the hillside.

Just ahead, the riverbed, though wide, had dried up so that nothing but mud and rock remained. The banks on either side were lined with dead grass and rotted brush. My nose wrinkled at the smell of dead fish.

“Yes, it’s a tributary— Seven Hels,” Rydian breathed.

He pressed his heels into his horse’s sides, closing the distance. I hung back, watching as he dismounted and ventured all the way to the edge of the healthy grass. He stopped just short of the dead patches and bent to one knee, studying the ground.

“What is it?” I asked.

He rose and looked toward the forest in the north. “The curse,” he said grimly. “It’s spread to this side of the river.”

“This is a new development?”

He nodded then swung back onto his horse. “Come on. We shouldn’t be out this far.”

He scanned the trees again, and the hairs on my neck prickled with unease. Then he turned his horse back the way we’d come. I followed reluctantly. So much for finding an escape route. At our backs, the wind felt like an invisible hand trying to grab me before I rode out of reach.

“What will the king do?” I asked, keeping an eye on the distant woods as if an Obsidian army might pour from it at any moment.

Rydian glanced at me but said nothing.

My stomach tightened as the answer dawned on me. “He’ll up the donations, won’t he?”

“Your engagement party is in a few days,” he said grimly. “He’ll want Grey Oak to look pristine for his guests. So, yes. He’ll up the donations.”

“Duron has to be stopped,” I said, gripping the reins as we began to ascend the hillside.

“On that, we agree.”

Something about the way he said it suggested an outrage that went much deeper than even my own. And for the briefest moment, I finally felt as if Rydian and I were on the same side.

“It’s a shame your future husband won’t allow your opinion to matter.”

Or not.

I glared at him, but he didn’t even bother to notice. Anger simmered inside me for the rest of the ride .

When we reached the stables, Rydian headed for the castle alongside me.

“You don’t have to walk me,” I snapped. “I can find my way.”

“I need to speak with Callan,” he said.

Of course. “You’re going to tell him what we saw.”

He cut me a look that probably would’ve made a lesser fae cringe. “Yes.”

“You don’t have to,” I pressed, refusing to back down. “You could fail to mention it or at least wait until after the party?—”

“Duron will find out,” he said. “Do you really think it’s worth looking like some kind of traitor over information that will come out anyway?”

“I think it’s worth it to the fae you’d be protecting,” I said.

I bit my lip, hoping my words would sink past that stone encasing his heart—if he even had one at all. But he merely scowled and began stalking toward the castle once again. When we reached the doors, Rydian began to veer off without as much as a goodbye.

“Your Highness!”

Vanya was pale as she hurried up to us with dark circles ringing her eyes. But more than her obvious exhaustion was the urgency radiating from her.

“What’s wrong?” I asked. Had something happened at her donation today? Maybe it had taken too much from her. “Are you okay?”

“The king is looking for you,” she told Rydian.

From somewhere deep in the castle, a roar sounded. The sheer volume and rage it held boomed painfully in my ears. Vanya winced, and her urgency turned to fear.

“What’s happened?” Rydian asked.

“Two Obsidians were caught on the castle grounds,” she said quietly. “He blames Callan and the guard for letting them get this far.” She hesitated before telling him, “He blames you.”

Rydian cursed. “Where’s my brother?” he asked her.

“Already inside,” Vanya said.

The roar came again, followed by something shattering. The sounds came from the throne room, which should’ve been too far away to hear it so clearly. Duron’s temper was fueled by his power, though. And he was clearly unleashing both without restraint.

“Take Aurelia to her room,” Rydian told Vanya.

“We’ll have to pass by the throne room to get there,” Vanya said, voice trembling. “If he sees her?—”

“Take her through the passageway,” Rydian told her. “Beneath.”

Vanya nodded as if the word alone explained everything.

“Wait,” I said when Rydian started to walk away. “What will he do to you?”

A range of emotions passed over Rydian’s expression. Hatred. Disgust. Resignation. “His worst,” he said simply. “Now, go. And don’t come out until Callan comes to get you.”

Callan. Right. Because it wouldn’t be Rydian. It couldn’t ever be Rydian.

I watched him stride, unflinching, toward the throne room.

Vanya tugged at me to follow her. “This way,” she whispered urgently, her eyes darting around as if she was half-afraid the king would jump out at us. “Hurry.”

She led me away from the throne room down a hallway that displayed portraits of past kings and queens. None of them looked much friendlier than Duron. Through the open doors we passed, I glimpsed a sitting room and a music room before Vanya led us through a door and into a room that seemed to be nothing but storage. Furniture covered in white cloths sat dusty and forgotten. In the light that streamed through the window, dust motes danced in the air.

Vanya led me across the room and over to another painting of a long-dead fae ruler. She reached for the gilded frame and pulled it away from the wall. It swung open like a door, and when I saw the hole cut into the wall behind it, I realized that was exactly what it was.

“Come.”

She stepped through the opening, and I followed, heart pounding. I glanced back over my shoulder, half-expecting one of Duron’s guards to appear at any moment, but the room behind us remained empty.

Vanya pressed a tiny button on the wall, and the painting swung shut, clicking softly as it latched.

The tunnel was cold, damp. The smell of earth hung in the air like something ancient and forgotten. My breath came too fast. I forced it to slow, trying to calm my racing heart—and the dark magic that woke inside me.

I couldn’t afford to panic now.

The passageway twisted down through the bowels of the castle—narrow and winding. As we trekked our way up the other side, another roar sounded, but it was muted inside the walls of the tunnel. Still, I tensed to think what might be happening in that throne room now.

“What do you think the king will do?” I asked.

Vanya glanced back at me, her expression tight. “The king is unpredictable when he’s angry.”

“Will he hurt them?”

She didn’t answer, but her shoulders stiffened.

I swallowed hard, my footsteps heavy on the stone steps as we climbed upward. “Where does this lead?”

“To your room,” Vanya said simply. “There’s a passage behind the guest quarters. Not many know about it. ”

I blinked. I’d been in that room for days and had no idea there was a hidden way in—or out.

“Why are you doing this?” I asked quietly as we reached the top of the stairs and entered a long, narrow tunnel. The air here was colder, the walls damp with condensation. “Why help me?”

Vanya stopped, turning to look at me. The flickering torchlight cast shadows across her face, and for a moment, I thought I saw something pass through her eyes—something like hope. “Because you’re different. You care in a way that no one except—” She broke off then started again, “I know what the king is like when he doesn’t get what he wants.”

Her words hung between us, a clear warning.

We resumed our trek in silence.

When we reached another small door at the end of the passage, Vanya handed me the torch and pressed her hand against the stone wall, searching for something. After a moment, there was a soft click, and the door creaked open into darkness.

“This leads to a small passageway behind your room,” she whispered. “You’ll be able to slip back in without anyone seeing.”

“You’re not coming with me?” I asked.

“I’m not on duty again until tomorrow,” she said. “The other maid will find it suspicious if I show up before then.”

Beryl.

Hels, she’d probably be wondering where I was by now. Maybe even waiting inside my room. I’d need to make sure the room was empty before slipping in.

“How did it go today?” I asked quietly. “At your appointment.” I couldn’t bring myself to say the words “donation” since that was hardly what it was.

“Fine,” Vanya said, not meeting my eyes.

“I’m sorry,” I told her. “For what you were forced to give. ”

“I would’ve done so willingly if I thought it would actually help—” She broke off, her cheeks flushing. “Forgive me.”

“Don’t apologize. I know what you mean.”

Relief flooded her expression.

I hesitated. My room lay just beyond this hidden corridor, but somehow the distance felt vast. “Thank you for helping me.”

“Be careful,” she said softly, her eyes meeting mine in the dim light.

Before I could respond, she stepped back into the shadows, letting the door slide shut between us.

I stood there for a moment, listening to the quiet. The castle seemed to press down on me from all sides, heavy and cold.

Taking a breath, I turned and started down the short passage toward my room. The sound of my footsteps felt too loud, too sharp against the stone floor, but there was no one else here. No one except me—and the creeping sense that everything was closing in.

When I reached the small panel in the wall, I pushed it open quietly, stepping into the familiar space of my room. The cold air from the hidden passageway followed me, lingering like a shadow.