Page 11 of Unraveled (A Kingdom of Beasts and Ruins #1)

I open my eyes to the wide ceiling above. Gray light pours through the windows and into my new prison, catching on every dusty surface and the cobwebs accumulated in the corners.

I thought this was all a terrible nightmare. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time I dreamed of beasts falling from the sky. Of death...

My lips tremble, and it takes all my strength to not break down.

The mural on the ceiling depicts vines and dark-colored flowers wrapping around the gray stone beams. I blink again and my vision clears. It’s not a painting, but roses, like the ones I saw earlier.

Something damp drags over the side of my arm, and warm air blooms over the wet spot. My gaze snaps down to meet four glowing amber eyes staring out from blackish-purple fur.

I slam into the cushioned headboard and scream so loud something in my throat tears. A horse— No, a wolf the size of a horse stands by my side. A beast on four legs, with two long bushy tails that swish through the air. Light swims around its body like twinkling fireflies.

I’m paralyzed. The bitter taste of fear coats my tongue. I follow the wolf’s movements as it approaches me. Sniffs the blankets over my legs. Steps closer, pressing its heavy snout to my arm.

A cry leaves my parched lips, and adrenaline blurs the edges of my panic as I jump out to the other side of the bed, reaching for the dagger that I usually keep on my nightstand. Of course, it isn’t there. This isn’t my bedroom at home, and I dropped my weapon in the forest last night.

I grip at a candelabra that sits on the table and wave it in front of myself.

“Stand back. I don’t want to hurt you, but I—will.

” My voice cracks, and I don’t know why I’m talking to the beast. It’s not like it will listen to me, and if it’s like the lunargyres in the forest, it wouldn’t care even if it did.

But this wolf feels different somehow. Like something out of a textbook I’ve seen before, though I can’t quite place it.

The wolf doesn’t move, and its eyes follow me as I round the bed toward the door. Surely, after he cared for my wounds, Finley will come help me if he hears me scream?

“Finley, there is a beast in the room!”

The wolf tilts its head, blinking rapidly before sitting back on its hindquarters. It snorts in my direction, as if protesting my choice of words—as if it understood me.

I have gone mad.

We stare at each other, unblinking. My breathing slowly eases, and my arms relax in front of me. “Are you going to hurt me?”

The wolf huffs and lies down, placing its head on top of its two front paws as its curious eyes follow me.

I walk toward the windows. I can’t hear Finley outside, and I can’t stay here and wait for this wolf to change its mind and eat me. If what I suspect is true, and Ash plans to go back to Penumbra and finish what he started yesterday, I must get back.

Everyone in the city is in danger. Somehow, I know without a doubt that he will succeed next time.

Between the two windows, there’s a polished wooden dressing table, caked with dust and topped with knickknacks that are of no use to me. I rummage through the contents of the first drawer. Slips, ribbons, and lacey things. I don’t know whose room this was before, nor do I care.

The candelabra shakes in my hand, and I pull it close when I hear the wolf shift toward me.

I might be imagining things, but I swear the creature’s eyes narrow at me. “I like wolves,” I say, feeling crazier than before, “but you have four eyes. And I’m a prisoner here, so I can’t just trust you.”

The second drawer is full of the same things, and I shut it when I see an insect with a stinger crawling around inside. Good to know I won’t be opening that drawer ever again.

I step to the window closest to the door. The handle doesn’t move, and judging by the gentle vibration coming from it, a spell keeps it locked.

I groan again, holding my injured side as I walk around the dressing table and try the second window. Locked.

“I don’t suppose you have magic and can help me open this thing,” I say to the wolf.

Its ears perk up, and it raises its head. Mist lifts from its fur to crawl across the floor toward me. Panic renewed, I press my body against the wall, my breath hitching as my lungs freeze.

The wolf’s magic doesn’t reach for me, however. Instead, it wraps around the window lever, and the metal shrieks. My lips part as the wolf’s aura darkens. Glowing dots of light twinkle around it, a living night sky right in front of me.

The glass shakes behind me, and I hear the handle screech as it turns. But I don’t move a muscle. My eyes remain glued to the beast. I’ve lived my entire life in Penumbra, surrounded by humans, but through the grimoires I’ve learned about ancient beings. I’ve read about beasts with auras of night.

This wolf has to be one of the sacred spirits of the gods, brought to the lands of mortals by the fae eons ago and rumored to live among the royal fae.

My blood runs cold. Yesterday, I thought Ash might be fae. That perhaps he was cursed, since he acted so different from the lunargyres outside. But I brushed it off. It was easier to imagine him being a monster who took over the ruins and feasted on the old race.

But what if the fae hadn’t disappeared? What if they were cursed and turned into beasts?

My mouth is so dry I can barely swallow. Ash is a beautiful beast. His face is a gift of symmetrical angles and a very straight nose. His eyes—ones I foolishly looked into—shine with ancient magic.

I press my fingers against the frigid window. The early winter air filters in through the opening, seeping through the layers of my borrowed dress.

Never look a fae in the eyes .

The wolf huffs again, and its purple tongue lolls out, its mouth twisting into something akin to a smile. The room smells musky, and the scent tickles something in the back of my mind. Familiar, yet strange.

Movement outside my window calls me. I reluctantly pull my eyes from the ancient wolf spirit and take in the massive rosebushes climbing the outside wall, thousands of black blooms standing in contrast to the shiny, deep green leaves.

My heart squeezes at the sight of it. No rose could climb this high unless it was aided by magic.

I’ve stumbled on something bigger than myself, and I’m working against a powerful foe.

I’m one bad decision away from getting eaten by beasts, or worse, being held prisoner for the rest of my life by a cursed fae.

If only I had my amulet, I could use a wind spell to get myself out of here. Fire to defend myself, like I did yesterday.

In the courtyard, broken pavers litter the ground. The overgrown trees have lost all their leaves, and a dried fountain rests in the middle.

Beyond that, there are buildings. A stable? Perhaps horses are still living there. I can’t make it to Penumbra by myself with a cursed fae on my heels. I must be faster than he can run—or, as it happens, fly.

Making up my mind, I hoist myself onto the window ledge, hoping Finley won’t come in. I’ll run to the stables and get a horse before they catch me. Blood loss and pain have made me delusional, but how different is that from normal?

“Are you alright?” It’s Finley’s voice, and the door handle dips.

I reach for the rose cane. It’s as thick as one of my thighs, and its thorns are sparse enough that I won’t get pricked if I’m careful.

The spirit lifts its head, wagging its tails hard enough they slap over the stone floor.

The moment my fingertips brush the stem, energy surges from the plant through my arm and straight into my heart.

The blooms around the window turn from black to blood red. With a gasp, I pull my hand back, and the scent of magic wafts around me. It smells of old and new. Of dewdrops in the early morning.

The wolf whines and stands to its full height, looming over everything around me, eyes on the petals as they begin shifting color even inside my prison.

Then the spirit disappears in a puff of mist just as the door cracks open, and I meet Finley’s eyes across the room.

He’s wearing an olive-green cloak and his hair is brushed back, revealing the sharp angles of his cheekbones and his rounded ears.

He freezes, and panic etches his features. “Step down from the ledge, Mia.”

I shake my head, swallowing deep as I take hold of the plant once again. Icy droplets of rain pad at my exposed skin, but with the adrenaline rushing through me, I can ignore their bite. “Ash thinks he owns me because I stared into his eyes. That’s why I’m not dead, isn’t it?”

Finley’s face shifts from worry to understanding as he steps into the room. “Why don’t you come inside and we can talk about it?”

“No, thank you. The elders in my city told me enough.” I peel my lips back from my teeth and tighten my grip on the rose. My fingers are numb, and I should’ve grabbed a coat before climbing up here, but it’s too late now.

I looked the king of the fae in the eyes, and now, I’m his human pet. A thing for him to torment and do with as he pleases.

“He will always find you. You’re tethered to each other, and it’s better if you remain here.”

I can’t wait a moment longer. This might be my only chance to escape, and Finley is stalling me with information he was unwilling to share last night. I ignore the sharp pain from my injuries and climb out the window, holding tightly to the climbing bush even as the wind blows my hair into my face.

My hand slips, and I struggle to find purchase on the rose vines. Energy drums under my palms, vibrating through me and igniting something beneath my skin.

Finley’s hard-soled boots click over the floor as he rushes across the room, and his blond mop of hair peeks over the windowsill. I meet his eyes again.

“How did you open the window?”

“The spirit helped me,” I say, seeing no reason to lie as I continue my descent.

Finley pauses, apparently lost in thought, and his brows pinch in the middle. Then, he moves to climb out after me but stops when he sees the first red rose. His eyes widen with horror as they move over the roses that have changed.

I was so caught up in my escape, I hadn’t realized most of the blooms out here are now deep shades of blood red instead of black.

“Are you able to climb down to safety, or do you need help?”

My lips part as I struggle to find the right words. Why does he care—or better yet, why isn’t he trying to stop me? These men are endlessly puzzling.

“Yes?”

“Fuck, Mia,” he says, and I meet his gaze over the rose’s stems. His face hardens with an emotion I can’t place. “I have to go. If Naheli let you out, I hope she keeps you safe. You can’t outrun Ash. He isn’t human, and he’s powerful, even now. Stay inside the castle. It’s for your own good.”

I show him my middle finger and continue making my way down, using the massive thorns to climb. Everything is slick with rain, and my wounds are screaming with the effort.

It feels like I’ve been holding on to this plant for years. Arms shaking with strain, I continue to move. My hands slip. I fall a few feet before just barely catching myself, and I manage to keep my grip on a longer stem. By some miracle, I don’t even hurt myself on any of the thorns.

I spot a balcony to my left; I didn’t see it before with the thickness of the foliage.

Leaping onto it, I rush to hide under the roof and away from the weather.

My teeth chatter as I try to rub some warmth back into my bones.

Behind me, there are two locked doors. I consider shattering the glass and letting myself in that way, but the noise will call unwelcome attention to me.

I’ll have to brave the climb.

Something shifts in the corner, and in the shadows cast by the massive columns that hold up the roof, mist forms the shape of the spirit, Naheli—is that what Finley called her?

The spirit sits unmoving, watching me. Just like before, she’s not trying to eat me but studying me with a strange curiosity that makes the hairs on my arms stand up.

I move to climb onto the rosebush again, and the moment I touch the plant, magic sings through me, similar to what I feel when I wear my amulet.

I don’t have time to think about everything Finley said. If Ash can sense me, or if Finley went to get him, I can’t stay here gawking at the red roses around me, wondering why they’re turning.

A howl pierces the air. It sounds like a dozen souls crying all at once.

Gooseflesh breaks out over my skin, and my head snaps toward the wolf spirit, who’s still howling to the sky like a siren. I don’t know how I know, but I know she’s calling him .

The king of the fae. I can’t believe I foolishly tethered myself to him. I feel him before I see him. Dread settles in my stomach, and I turn just as Ash swoops down. In the gray daylight, he stands in contrast.

I narrow my gaze at the wolf and climb faster, and the thorns shift away from my stomach, avoiding pricking me. My heart drums as I slip again, but this time, I catch myself with less trouble. Fear doesn’t register in my mind. I don’t have time for that.

The beating of Ash’s wings pushes cold air against my back.

The golden swirls of his aura shift around him like liquid metal, and I tighten my hold around the stem, willing myself to keep my grip.

“Where do you think you’re going, Monster?”