Page 20

CHAPTER 20

Sage

I clung to Quill’s arm to keep my balance as we left the throne room, and the servant led us down a hall just as majestic as the wide hall as the one before. Intricate patterns swirled through the stone and wood walls, and ornate chandeliers hung above with their unwavering fae lights.

I clutched my blanket tighter around my shoulders, trying to steady my trembling hands and pretend I wasn’t on the brink of falling apart. But the weight of everything pressed down on me threatened to crush what little composure I had left.

I needed a moment alone, somewhere safe where I could gather my thoughts and try to make sense of this nightmare.

But safety was an illusion. In the Black Tower and here.

I had more than enough proof of that.

“It’s so exciting to have you here in the Garden, my lady,” the servant said, his tone overly cheerful. “Such a shame about that nasty attack, but don’t you worry one bit. The knights will take care of everything. They’re simply the best, they’re—” The servant glanced back at Lord Quill, his eyes widening. “My apologies, Your Highness. The Black Guard is excellent too, of course. Just… different, what with the humans and all.”

Your Highness? My gaze jerked to Lord Quill despite my determination not to look at him, and the magnetic pull I always felt toward him captured me. He was so close I could feel the heat from his body and his arm was solid and strong beneath my fingers, supporting me.

I needed to put distance between us before I did something stupid, but letting go of his arm would be rude. Especially if Lord Quill was royalty in the fae realm. And in all honesty, I needed him to keep me from stumbling.

“It’s Captain,” Lord Quill corrected without noticing me staring at him.

The servant’s face flushed. “Right, of course. My apologies, Captain.”

Without another word, the servant led us to a winding staircase that curled around an enormous tree trunk. Above, strange structures were built onto the massive boughs.

The minstrels told tales about the magic of the fae court, and not a single one I’d heard came close to describing the real thing. I’d known that the Garden was beautiful and magical. I’d thought the grove, with its mix of stone and foliage and its curling flowering vines, was amazing. But the castle in the great tree was beyond imagination.

We followed wide branches — each step making my stomach lurch as I tried not to look down — and swinging bridges connecting different sections.

I gripped Quill’s arm tighter, terrified of making a wrong step, and his free hand rested over mine, a gesture so natural and comforting it made my heart ache.

“Are you all right?” he asked softly, his green gaze searching my face, his eyes narrowing when it passed over my bruised cheek.

I heaved my attention away from him, afraid if I spoke, I’d confess how much his touch both soothed and terrified me, and that I craved him even though he’d already proven I couldn’t trust him.

“Fine,” I forced out before snapping my mouth shut and stopping any other words from escaping.

Two more flights of stairs brought us to another hall. This one was simpler than the main halls below, but just as elegant. It stretched over three hundred feet before ending at a T intersection, and six doors lined the walls, three on each side.

The servant stopped at the middle door on the right and opened it with a flourish.

“Your chambers, my lady,” he announced.

Inside was a lavish room with a seating area that consisted of intricately carved, plush furniture sitting by a roaring fire crackling in an enormous marble fireplace, a dining area for six, and a small office nook with a desk and an empty bookshelf. Tapestries depicting lush forests and magical creatures adorned the walls, their threads shimmering in the firelight, and heavy rugs cushioned the floor.

Two partially open doors stood on either side of the room, revealing one lavish bedroom with an enormous bed draped in silks and furs, large enough to comfortably fit Lark and her four mates. The other room was a much plainer bedroom with simple furnishings and a single-person bed.

The High Priestess had said I’d have to share the suite with Sir West. I wasn’t sure which bedroom was supposed to be mine, but I couldn’t imagine the hulking Sir West fitting in the single-person bed.

Before I could ask which room was mine, the servant bustled past me to the back of the sitting room and threw open a set of large glass doors, revealing a balcony.

Beyond the balcony’s railing, lights twinkled in the windows of rooms sitting on other branches and flickered through gently swaying leaves. The vine with the softly glowing pink and white flowers that was everywhere trailed over the balcony’s railing and up the side of the building, the illumination from the flowers dancing softly in the gentle breeze.

I stepped out onto the balcony, taking in the dazzling view. Below, the manicured lawn of the Garden stretched out toward a barely lightening horizon. Lights dotted here and there, illuminating small seating areas and secluded nooks as well as the reflection pool where I always found myself when I woke in the Garden.

I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. Wells and Crane had known I’d always manifested there, and I always manifested lying down and slowly woke. How many of the other men involved in my attack knew I always appeared there?

How many men in general knew?

A shudder swept through me, and I jerked away from the balcony and hurried back into the sitting room. I never wanted to wake there alone and exposed again.

Someone knocked on the door, and Sir West’s hand shifted to the hilt of one of the massive swords hanging at his hips.

The servant opened it, and another servant entered carrying a tray with a softly glowing sphere the size of a coin nestled on top of a thick white velvet square. The servant dropped to his knees, his head bowed, and held up the tray. “Your spirit anchor, my lady.”

I stared at him. The white light from the sphere illuminated his refined features. I didn’t know what a spirit anchor was and I didn’t want to touch it.

Except I had no doubt refusing would upset the High Priestess.

“If you would be so kind as to press your finger against it?” the first servant said, gesturing to the sphere after my too-long hesitation.

I really didn’t want to touch it.

It was going to control me in some way, and I couldn’t afford to be captured.

Of course, if the magister Lord Quill had asked to help remove the bracelet currently keeping my spirit trapped in the Garden couldn’t free me, being controlled by this spirit anchor wouldn’t matter. I’d be discovered in my room in the Gray… it would just be a matter of if I was discovered before or after my body died from lack of food or lack of a spirit.

“My lady,” the first servant said. “Sir West will protect it so you’ll only ever manifest in his presence. You have nothing to worry about.”

I had everything to worry about.

Great Father, this was a nightmare. Sure I wasn’t going to wake up by that pond anymore. I was going to wake up beside that monster. For all I knew, the High Priestess could be forcing me into the hands of the men who wanted to hurt me.

And I had no choice.

If I refused, everyone would be suspicious of me, and I had no idea what would happen then.

With a slow breath to steady my nerves and hopefully not reveal how upset I was, I placed my finger against the small sphere.

The soft white glow turned red, the same color as my hair, then it released a bright flash, sending black specks dancing through my vision, before dimming back to its original brightness.

The color, however, remained red, proof that I was now trapped by whoever controlled the stone.

The servant, still kneeling, turned his raised tray to Sir West, offering him the anchor. West took it and the velvet square, which was actually a small velvet bag with long, delicate golden ties. He hung it around his neck, slipping it inside his armor where it was impossible for me, or anyone else, to reach.

With deep bows, both servants left, and Sir West closed the door behind them. The latch clicked, the sound too loud in my ears, and I fought to control my breathing.

I could handle this. I had to handle this.

Perhaps Sir West was a good man.

Except he obeyed the High Priestess and I was a mouse for her to play with.

Just like how there was a chance the King of Erellod could have been involved in my stepfather’s plans to send Sawyer to the Gray, the High Priestess could have been involved in Wells’s and Crane’s plans to forcibly bond with me.