Page 17 of Manor of Wind and Nightmares (Fae of Brytwilde #3)

Now

F luttering wings plucked me out of my troubled thoughts. I’d been tossing and turning beside my sleeping sister, trying to puzzle out what terrors the competition might subject us to next. In a single breath, my knife was in my hand and I was out of bed, prepared to fend off an unknown attacker.

But when I blinked, all I found was a bat circling about the ceiling before it stopped, finding a place on the curtain rod to hang. It watched me with its beady eyes.

A chill skated over my skin. How had the bat gotten in if I’d locked the windows? I scanned our quarters, trying to see if anything had changed while I’d been asleep. The fire had burned to embers, leaving the air chilly, but the windows remained securely closed.

Recalling the creature I’d spotted while climbing the stairs to our quarters, I decided the bat must have already been inside when I’d locked us within our rooms.

Returning to bed sounded temptingly warm and cozy, even if I couldn’t sleep. My thoughts continued to race, repeating tonight’s horrors in an endless loop.

I wondered how many women had survived our first test. I turned back toward the bed, wanting to reassure myself for the thousandth time that night with the sight of my sleeping sister.

Only to find the bed suddenly, inexplicably, empty.

There had been no sounds of her stirring and getting out of bed, and when I scanned the room, she was nowhere to be seen, either.

“Callista?” I called softly.

Only silence answered. My stomach lurched into my throat.

A quick glance at the bedroom door showed me it remained bolted shut.

The bat left its perch and flitted toward the washroom. Fingers locked on my knife, I followed.

Callista was nowhere to be seen. Without a window or any other door, the washroom held no other exit from our quarters. And after the terrors of the feast, I doubted my sister would willingly go anywhere without me.

When I turned back, the doorway no longer faced our room, but a forest. Or rather, a strange space that was part-forest, part-hallway.

Ancient trees with trunks thicker than a man was tall stretched toward shadows, making it impossible to tell if there was a high ceiling or a hidden night sky.

Here and there, glimpses of walls decorated with portraits and tapestries peeked out between the foliage.

Underneath my feet, roots and moss blanketed the thick carpet.

Ensconced candles flickered, offering me tiny pools of light.

As far as I could tell, the hall was empty, with not even a posted guard to be seen.

Crickets chirped, boughs creaked, and unseen nocturnal creatures stirred in the blackness.

A cool breeze wafted toward me, lifting strands of escaped hair from the back of my neck.

“Callista?”

Surely she wouldn’t have stepped into this place of her own volition. Not alone.

Had someone taken her?

Or was the manor playing tricks on her? On me? Had it somehow dropped her into a new room in a similar manner to the way it had deposited us into our quarters earlier that night?

I shook my head, scanning the darkness as I stepped forward cautiously, inspecting the scenery for some hint as to where in the manor I might be.

Soft footsteps shattered the quiet, and I whirled, hope firing through my veins.

Only to face Prince Kaede.

The bat that had led me here hung from his collar, blinking beady eyes as if to taunt me before it sprang from its spot and soared through the trees.

Before I could fully register that the prince was here and we were alone, he was upon me, wind howling and whipping strands of black hair across his brow as he shoved me to the ground.

He swiped the knife easily from my grasp, sending it flying with his air magic until it was lost to the shadows.

Together, we crashed in a heap on the floor, legs tangling, chests heaving. His face was inches from mine.

When they scanned my features, his eyes were sharp. Suspicious. He snaked his fingers around my neck, grasping my throat without applying pressure—a clear threat that he could end my life easily.

My tongue cleaved to the roof of my mouth. Without his court to witness what happened, would he have his revenge here?

“What are you doing here?” The rich depth of his voice was painfully familiar. It would have sent a thrill through me—had done so countless times—if not for the fury lacing each word. Instead, he inspired fear. This wasn’t the tender, peace-loving fae I’d once known. This was a stranger.

I’d killed the man I’d loved. Maybe he didn’t exist anymore.

Swallowing to alleviate the dryness scratching my throat, I said, “I am looking for my sister.”

“So you weren’t searching for me, hoping to attack me?”

“What? No. The washroom in my quarters opened to this place. I don’t know why the manor brought me here.”

He leaned back, finally putting space between us, though he didn’t remove his fingers.

They rested against my fluttering pulse, unconsciously caressing my skin as if he didn’t realize what he was doing.

Or maybe he was savoring my fear. I didn’t dare move as he glanced toward the trees, his keen eyes seeing things my human ones couldn’t make out.

“I suppose that explains your sad excuse for a weapon.” He cocked his head, and the ghost of a smile flickered across his lips, like an echo of the man he’d once been. “A dinner knife?”

Before I could answer, his lips turned down, likely remembering a different blade, a different room. His eyes went dark, his expression unreadable. “Did you lace it with poison?”

I squeezed my burning eyes closed, haunted by my memories of that day. I tried to find the words to beg for his forgiveness, but before I could speak, his weight lifted off me. I opened my eyes to find him brushing off his clothes.

“Go back to your room,” he said firmly. “Don’t leave it again.”

“My sister—”

“ Go. ”

I didn’t know why the low command sent such a sharp bolt of pain through my heart, like it had broken all over again.

It wasn’t as if I’d expected him to forgive me and rejoice over our second reunion in one night.

In fact, I’d expected far worse. Merciful or not, he had every right to demand my execution for what I’d done, for what he suspected I’d returned to do.

I turned and ran blindly through the trees, nearly tripping over roots and shrubs in my haste to get away.

When my burning lungs finally forced me to stop, I was thoroughly lost, hair sticking to the back of my sweaty neck. Ahead, a strange door rested within a massive tree trunk. Hoping it would lead to my own quarters, I turned the knob.

The scene before me was surreal. I was within our Greybrooke estate again, except I was watching a moment from my past play out.

I saw myself at the writing desk in the corner, poring over the estate’s books and scribbling furiously as I calculated where we could make reductions in our expenses to save our home.

Meanwhile, Father idly turned the pages of a newspaper while my sisters giggled to one another about an upcoming ball as they adorned their bonnets with fresh ribbons.

“And of course we’ll order new gowns,” Callista gushed. “I do believe this season’s fashion will show off our features to their best advantage.”

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible. We will have to cut expenses again,” I announced, depositing my quill in the inkwell and rubbing my temple wearily.

Lavinia stiffened, looking affronted. “We cannot make an appearance at the Coltons’ annual ball in last season’s dresses! Have you seen how faded mine has become?”

Callista sniffed. “It would be shameful. We’d be the talk of the town.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to force patience into my tone. “We could politely decline the invitation.”

Lavinia glared. “And be the talk of the entire county ? Since you do not care for outings or your reputation, why don’t you cut back on your own allowance? You can make your excuses and avoid this Season’s outings.” She lifted her chin proudly.

“I already have,” I explained gently, “but some of our other expenses have become rather excessive.” My gaze darted to their new bonnets, gloves, embroidered handkerchiefs, and assortment of ribbons on the table.

“If we aren’t careful, we will have to reduce our staff. Or...” I swallowed. “Sell the estate.”

Father set aside his paper, lifting his brows. “Aurelia, this seems rather dramatic.”

Lavinia waved an airy hand. “What if we rent the estate out and stay in a small, fashionable townhome in the city?” Eagerness lit her eyes. “Imagine life in Riverside.”

My throat tightened. “It would be an indefinite stay, and living in Riverside would hardly help us cut expenses. There would be many more invitations and all the costs of the Season.”

“But we would require very few staff.”

Sorrow shuddered through me. We’d grown up with Cook, our maids, our footman...they’d watched us since we were children. They’d known our mother before she’d passed.

I swallowed. “This is our home.” My voice trembled, though I tried to steady it. “This is where Mother lived.”

Lavinia narrowed her eyes. “Really, Aurelia. I didn’t think you’d be so sentimental. Mother would want us to be happy. We would prosper in Riverside. And besides, it is only an option. I’m only trying to make the best of a bad situation. We may never have to leave the estate at all.”

Father nodded. “If we had to go, we would be among the most genteel.”

Callista clasped her hands together. “And we would have far better chances at obtaining good matches.”

Lavinia glanced at me slyly. “Which would also fulfill our need for money.”

I glanced about the room, taking in every familiar sight as a deep sense of melancholy fluttered through me. The responsibility of dismissing the staff would fall to me, as would choosing which items would come with us and which would have to stay.