Page 12

CHAPTER 12

Sage

Dread settled in my gut at the thought of meeting the High Priestess. Surely she’d see right through me and know right away I was really a human.

Zinnia turned to Lord Quill. “Give us a moment.”

With a nod, he stepped back out of the bedroom and closed the door with a soft click.

“Can you change your spirit form clothes?” she asked as soon as the door shut. “Your current ones are wet, and you covered up quite quickly when Quill entered. Clearly, you don’t want them to see your marks.”

I opened my mouth to respond but nothing came out. A part of me was shocked Zinnia would suggest I continue covering my marks. It didn’t make sense for the fae to encourage me.

But she’d taken my discomfort about some of my marks changing color seriously. I didn’t have to explain to her that I didn’t want to deal with the questions and looks I’d receive once the other fae saw me… once Lords Quill, Rider, Talon, and Ash saw me.

Oh, Father. Would Ash be upset that my marks might have selected a mate or would he be hopeful?

I wasn’t sure if either was good.

And yet, something in my heart, something small and aching and lonely, wanted him to be mine.

I squeezed my eyes shut, shoving that feeling as deep down as possible.

I couldn’t afford to want things.

I couldn’t afford to have hope.

All I could do was survive.

“I understand if you’re not ready for the questions,” Zinnia said, taking my hesitation for the uncertainty that it was. “Only our elders remember the last time a woman had her marks put to sleep, and I doubt you’d meet any of them here. Even the three elders on the Elder Council barely spend time in the throne room.”

My stomach clenched. “Right. The throne room.”

Was that where I was meeting the High Priestess?

My pulse picked up. Maybe it would be a private audience. Maybe I wouldn’t be forced into such a public setting, because without a doubt if the High Priestess was in her throne room, the fae nobility would be there as well.

“Sage,” Zinnia said, resting a hand on my blanket-covered thigh. “It’ll be all right. Just answer the High Priestess’s questions as honestly as you can and let those men out there waiting for you and the Order’s knights take care of the rest.”

I met her milky blue gaze. The understanding in her eyes made my throat tighten. She thought I was a slave in the human realm. She knew I knew next to nothing about being a fae woman, and it was clear she wanted to help.

She sat back with a soft smile. “Now, let’s change your clothes.”

“How do I do that?”

“All you need to do is imagine yourself wearing what you want to wear.”

“Just like that?” It seemed far too simple.

“Just like that,” she replied.

I closed my eyes, ready to imagine myself in something that covered me from neck to ankle. The fashion I was used to had high necklines, long sleeves, and hems that brushed the ground… or at least the clothes I used to wear when my mother was alive. Once I’d become my stepfather’s maid, my hem rose to just above my ankles, so I wouldn’t trip, and the neckline loosened just a bit.

Except that was human fashion and human women weren’t supposed to draw attention to themselves or their sexuality.

Here in the Garden, my dress barely covered the important bits, and of the three other fae women I’d seen, two of them had worn dresses just as revealing as mine.

Only Zinnia wore something that completely covered her, the collar of her robe high enough that I couldn’t even catch a glimpse of her mating marks.

I concentrated on turning my lacey gauzy dress into a thick robe like Zinnia’s. I imagined it green instead of blue and focused on how the collar would stand up, brushing the edge of my jaw and covering all of my spots.

But it didn’t feel as if anything was happening.

I didn’t get the sense there was more fabric around my body, that the gauzy lacy dress I always materialized in was changing into a thick robe.

All I really felt was exhausted, sore, turned on — still! — and damp.

I opened my eyes and peeled back the blanket.

Yep, still in the red dress.

A sharp knock on the door made me jump. “We shouldn’t keep the High Priestess waiting,” Lord Quill called out.

I squeezed my eyes shut and tried again, concentrating on how the soft, heavy fabric of the robe would feel. I’d be warm and dry and covered.

Please, Great Father, let me be covered.

But nothing happened.

With a huff, I opened my eyes.

“For all we know the artifact keeping your spirit here is keeping you from changing your clothes,” Zinnia said. “Let’s keep you bundled in the blanket so you don’t catch a chill. Healer’s orders.”

She helped me to my feet, making sure I had a good grip on the blanket ensuring it covered my marks and so I wouldn’t trip, before she hurried me out of the bedroom into a sitting room.

Plush furniture was situated in front of a crackling fire in a fieldstone fireplace, but I was too nervous about meeting the High Priestess and keeping my marks hidden to fully take in the rest of the details of the room.

All four of the men who’d rescued me, along with Onyx, stood in the room and stared at me. Lord Quill’s eyes, along with Onyx’s, were wide with surprise as if they didn’t expect me to still look like a drowned cat. Talon’s expression remained serious, not revealing any reaction to my appearance, while Lord Rider’s glare darkened, making me feel like I’d done something to seriously displease him.

My gaze slid to Ash. I’d been trying not to look at him, afraid of his reaction now that we’d had a moment apart. He’d made me feel amazing and protected, but I now knew his name and knew why he’d been keeping his identity from me.

While we’d been together in the bedroom, everything had been perfect, our own little realm away from everything else. But in the brighter sitting room, things could be different.

I ached at the thought. I understood why he hadn’t wanted me to see him, but I didn’t care about his appearance. He gave me something I’d never had before, something I’d never thought I would ever have: feeling safe in a man’s arms.

But he stood at the back of the room by the door as if desperate to leave, his head tilted forward so his jaw-length hair veiled the right side of his face and partially obscured his scars.

His dark gaze slid up to meet mine, his eyes filled with a sad wariness that made my heart hurt.

Did he think I’d reject him now that my marks no longer made me desperate?

I took a step toward him, ready to tell him I’d never reject him. He was the only man I felt safe with. He was the only person in the Garden I trusted.

But Lord Rider jerked forward from his spot by the fire, his posture radiating danger. “Why isn’t she healed?”

I shrunk back from him, unable to resist the compulsion, and all the men, including Rider, froze.

“There’s an unnatural magic affecting her.” Zinnia shifted forward and partially shielded me from Rider. “I’ve used my magic to help mitigate the effects, but until it’s gone I can’t properly heal her. And,” she added before Rider could say anything else, “the magic affecting her or the artifact that is keeping her here is preventing her from changing her spirit form clothes.”

“Fuck,” Rider growled.

Quill glared at him. “It is what it is. Let’s go. We’ve already kept Her Brilliance waiting.”