I can’t help but notice it’s about another galaxy away from Ever’s rooms, which figures. He’s definitely trying to send me a message, a mixed one at that. He doesn’t want me to work in the garden or live with the servants, but he also doesn’t want me anywhere near him. Right. Got it.
“You still haven’t told me why I can’t garden anymore.”
“It's not my place to question the prince's instructions. If you believe it is your duty to do so, please feel free to interrogate him accordingly.”
Damn right I will—as soon as I’ve checked out my new digs. A tall guard is stationed in front of a beautifully carved door, his features stern and impassive. His slate-blue hand reaches out and pushes it open.
“Thank you,” I tell him as I step over the threshold. “You can leave now.”
Lord Gavrin huffs, and the guard stares straight ahead.
This time, I inject a touch of arrogance into my tone. “You’re dismissed. Please go now.”
“You will remain at your station,” Lord Gavrin barks, and pushes me into the room. Then, with a clang and a clank of metal, he shuts me inside on my own.
I whip around and test the latch. It’s not locked. That’s good. I swivel back and see three enormous rooms connected by stone archways, tangled vines with faces peeping through leaves and flowers carved into the tall columns.
Okay. Wow. This is awesome.
As I walk through silvery light toward the Moorish-style windows of the parlor and sit in the deep, cushioned sill, I realize that instead of exiling me to the farthest, dingiest part of the castle, Ever’s given me an apartment fit for royalty.
Through the prince’s windows at the front of the castle, he has a view of gushing waterfalls and distant mountains, but I look over the forest and beyond to the ruins of the Black Castle and the sparkling Emerald Sea. It’s breathtaking.
A lick of excitement tingles my skin. I could read a whole library’s worth of books sitting here in this burnt-orange window seat. Like a pet who’s landed in a good home, if I were treated well while hanging out here, it wouldn’t be such a bad life at all. Except I’d never see Isla and Aunt Clare again.
“My lady,” says a voice out of nowhere.
My head jerks up. A woman stands through the archway before the canopied bed, holding out a long red-and-green colored gown. She curtsies. “My name is Orlinda. I am your attendant. Humans might call me a lady’s maid.”
“Hello.” I curtsy, and she bites a smile back. “Do you know if Prince Everend is home today, Orlinda?”
“No, my lady, he has joined a hunting party with several lords and ladies and will return before dark.”
“I need to speak to him. Will you take a note to his rooms so he’ll see it when he returns?”
“Yes, of course.” She smiles. “But first, I have new clothes to show you.”
“Oh, forget them,” I say, my gaze landing on a desk that sits in front of another set of massive windows, writing material strewn over it. Perfect.
After laying the dress on the bed, Orlinda hovers nearby looking like a dimpled medieval maid, young and fresh-faced. She watches me scribble with a metal-tipped pen on a smooth piece of bark paper.
When I finish, I hold out the note—a demand for an audience with the Prince of Air—the sharp smell of magic tingling my nose as she takes it. “Thank you,” I say.
She curtsies and walks toward the door. I wait until her elegant hand touches the gold latch. “Orlinda, are you wearing a glamor by any chance?”
Her face goes blank. “Yes, my lady.”
“Remove it, and please call me Lara.”
Her body wavers like a heat mirage, then sharpening, unveils her true appearance—that of a lean, muscular fighter. A long blonde braid falls over black armor, weapons strapped and slung from unthinkable places. She covers her smile with the same slate-colored hand as the guard’s out front of my door. She’s a warrior, not a lady’s maid.
I can’t help but smile back. “That’s quite an improvement. Don’t put the glamor on again. And, Orlinda, please come back as soon as you can. I want you to tell me everything you know about what’s going on with all of this...” I point at my chest, then indicate the fine chambers we’re standing in.
Instead of curtsying, this time, she bows. “I can tell you right now. The prince wants you guarded and protected at all times. It is simple.”
With another quick bow, she leaves.
I distract myself from worrying about what being dumped in extreme luxury might mean by exploring the contents of the wardrobe and taking in the spectacular view from the rose-covered balcony.
I wait.
And wait some more.
When Orlinda finally returns, she reports that Ever has returned from the hunt, received my note, and is currently resting in his chambers alone.
Considering my enraged expression, she says, “If you’re planning to go to him, put the gown on. Please. I know this court far too well. Dressed like one of us, your path through the castle will be easier.”
I nod, and she helps me wiggle into a gossamer-thin dress studded with copper-colored metal. She collects ornate shiny spikes of different lengths from a dresser and pokes them into twists of my hair, creating a disheveled, steam-punk hairstyle that I quite like. A swipe of silver over my lids, crimson for my lips, glittery copper on my cheeks, then she pronounces me ready.
Standing in front of a long mirror, I survey the results. The rust and moss colors brighten my complexion, making my hair glow like flames. Somehow, Orlinda’s made me look both wilder and more refined.
Rearranging the knife belt strapped to my waist, I frown as though I’m unimpressed and say, “Well, I suppose this will have to do.”
With a gust of laughter, she follows me through the door.
I stomp toward Ever’s rooms, Orlinda shadowing my every move and glaring at any faery who dares speak to or even look at me. On arrival, I’m surprised to find two black-armored guards barring my entrance. They’re a new addition.
“Let me through,” I tell the biggest guard.
“The prince is indisposed.” His purple, slitted eyes stare straight ahead at the golden wall opposite.
“Rubbish. He’s perfectly able to suffer a visitor. Let me speak to him.”
“No visitors today, my lady. The prince wishes to see no one,” says the second guard, his wolf-like snout quivering as if he’s sampling my scent. It’s disconcerting to say the least.
“We’ll see about that.” I pick up a statue of a falcon from a nearby pedestal and thump it three times against the solid door. “Everend Calidore Fionbharr, you evil fricking faery, open up. You’re a royal waste of space—”
The door bursts open, revealing Ever, naked to the waist, his silver and gold locks a beautiful mess, and his eyes as blue as peacock feathers. Before I say a word, an elegant hand yanks me into the room, and then slams the door behind me.
His lips part, and he takes a quick breath as if he’s going to speak, then snaps his mouth closed as his gaze whips over my body, pausing to trace over my face like he’s memorizing it. He sighs heavily, making me feel like a child bothering a grownup who has better things to do than speak to me. “What do you want, Lara?”