Page 18 of Manor of Wind and Nightmares (Fae of Brytwilde #3)

Now, I walked through the room feeling a similar heaviness to what my past self had endured.

Though it had only been an option when I’d made my ill-fated bargain with King Wystan, hoping to save our home, my family had latched onto the idea while I was away.

I’d returned to my old estate to find new owners, who had given me a message to find my family at a Riverside address.

It turned out that, once King Wystan had made good on his end of the deal—much to my astonishment—to grant us wealth, they had overspent it all too soon in my absence.

The vision faded, and I was left again in the forest.

Tears clung to my lashes. I’d given up everything...and still lost the home I’d clung to.

When I turned, I faced a different door in another tree. This time, my skin crawled and my breathing quickened. Still, I approached, hoping to find a way out of this accursed hall. The door swung open soundlessly, taking me back to a time I wished I could erase from my memory.

Once again, I was immersed in the past, watching myself live out an event from my time in Emberglade.

Hot, sticky air filled my lungs, making every breath feel heavy and turning my skin slick with sweat in mere moments.

Despite the unforgiving humidity, my trainer, Kymelle, would not permit a break.

Her dark eyes flashed with an inner fire that seemed stoked by endless rage directed at everything and nothing in particular. Today, I was her miserable target.

“Strike again. Harder.”

With sweat pouring into my eyes, I slammed my fist into the bag before me.

My knuckles were chapped and bruised from days of pounding my fists into it—as well as from sparring with my trainer.

Every day, she insisted that an assassin needed to know hand-to-hand combat in order to be graceful and quiet and to strike true, even when attacking a sleeping mark.

“Use your anger.”

“I’m not angry,” I muttered. “I don’t even know this prince.”

Kymelle laughed, but the sound was bitter and her expression was hard. “There is always a reason to be angry. Let your rage make you powerful.”

I blinked through the sweat dripping into my eyes, thinking how the only ones I was truly angry with were Kymelle and King Wystan.

A wicked urge to spin and punch her instead bubbled within me, but my cooler, practical side prevailed.

As much as I considered these fae my enemies, striking out against them would only cause me to suffer more.

Instead, I drew a deep breath and tried punching the bag again.

“Why do you want him dead?” It was the most forward question I’d dared to ask in my time here, but now I could not seem to help myself. I wanted to know what drove Kymelle’s fury.

She tossed her hair over her shoulder. The sun highlighted her pointed ear as she glared down her nose at me.

“He’s opposed to all the work King Wystan has done for our people—for our world—and he has been quite vocal about it.

He is a threat to our way of life. Meanwhile, Edwin Willowbark’s health grows frail.

If his son takes the throne upon his death, all of King Wystan’s work will be for naught.

Especially when he deserves to suffer in his last days by losing his heir.

I believe you already know that King Edwin took our queen from us.

” She sniffed, as if I were beneath her and could never understand.

“If Prince Kaede comes to power, he is likely to try to overthrow King Wystan—perhaps even take control of Emberglade. We cannot let that happen.”

I frowned, not wanting to consider the politics of the fae world. They were known for their violence, and perhaps violence was their solution to all problems, but from my perspective, it seemed unreasonable and wrong to send someone to murder the prince. Especially for revenge.

I turned and the memory faded, leaving me in the present. A third door awaited me off to the left. Unnerved yet hopeful, I stepped forward and passed through the doorway.

A nightmare awaited me. The scent of blood was heavy in the air within Prince Kaede’s quarters. Ahead, my past self was studying the prince’s face in horror. Once again, I stared at the betrayal etched across his handsome features and the light leaving his eyes.

Horror gripped me all over again, a nauseating sensation of loss, terror, and guilt. The moment Kaede unleashed his magic upon me, slamming me into the floor, was the moment his anger won over his other emotions.

Stomach churning, I whirled away from the stench of blood and the weight of guilt, racing toward the far end of his room, desperate to get away. Sweat soaked my nightgown and tears blurred my vision.

And then—the scene vanished. I was back in the washroom in Callista’s and my quarters. There was no strange door, no fluttering bat—no sign the forest-filled hallway had ever existed at all. Heart pounding, I spun toward the bedroom and found my sister fast asleep in our shared bed.

I wondered if she’d ever left, or if her absence had only been another strange trick of the manor’s.

Swallowing thickly, I shook my head, wishing I could clear it, wishing I could make sense of the madness.

There was nothing logical about this place.

Worse still, the fact that it had been taunting me with some of my foul memories meant it knew far too much about me, which meant it could use my fears and weaknesses against me.

Maybe even share them with the fae as they conducted their cruel competition.

It took a long time to calm myself and fall asleep.