I closed my eyes. I would be strong. Getting Tristrom back to Amavara was my task, not Flynn’s. I’d signed up for it alone. I could do it and free Flynn from my burden. I had to love him enough to let him go.

  At some point, Molly came to get me undressed and into night clothes. I lay awake for a long time in the cool sheets hoping Flynn would change his mind. He didn't. Eventually, I did drift off, and he didn't come. The chill remained all night, and I feared I might never rid myself of the coolness that clung to my skin.

  When I finally woke from a restless sleep and opened my eyes, I yelped as crystal clear blue eyes filled my vision.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Thundering footfalls alarmed me more than Tristrom in my room possibly watching me as I slept. The noise outside wasn't like a torrent of footsteps as if the castle were on fire. It was worse. It sounded like a multitude of marching footsteps all in sync.

  Fear cast its net and caught me, causing my heartbeat to betray my trepidation.

  "We have to go." He held one pale hand out to me. I knew nothing about Tristrom's motives, but an ominous pack of frosty Fey surely wasn't good. And his suggestion for me to go had to mean the Fey were coming for me. So I took his hand and caught sight of an open hidden door in the corner.

  I pushed aside my embarrassment in only wearing the nightgown. Tristrom didn’t seem to notice as he guided me through the opening and closed it before a solid knock hit my room door. In the hidden passageway, I came to appreciate the awful artwork on the walls of my room. Through the eye openings in the plaster carvings, I watched the interior of my room. Another impatient rap preceded the door being flung open, and Madeline and her son took a step into my room.

  They searched the room with only their eyes. I was surprised when Madeline didn't come forward to check the hidden hallway where we stood. It seemed farfetched she wouldn't know about them. However, they made no move towards the door we were hidden behind.

  "Where is she?" Larrison demanded.

  Had he come to make good on our bargain? It seemed overkill for him to bring his mother for that.

  Madeline’s eyes pricked her son as if she were jabbing a finger in his chest. "She's with him." Her voice was clipped and clearly showed her disapproval.

  "No," Larrison said, shaking off his mother's words. "I saw him with her."

  Part of me wondered who the her was, but I knew.

  "Neither were at breakfast.” Her eyes narrowed a second in thought. “No matter, I'll send for her and we'll get to the bottom of this."

  She spun on her heels making no sound other than the slight stir of air. Larrison stood for a moment longer; his eyes pinpointed on the wall we stood behind.

  Tristrom placed a finger on his lips before urging me forward. I took quick, careful steps not wanting to make a sound. We walked a bit before I caught a glimpse of tanned skin through another set of hidden openings into another room.

  At that moment, it didn't matter that I was totally a peeping tom. He stood in profile with nothing but pants that hung on his hips. The golden skin that had drawn my attention, stretched and bunched as he moved, every line defined with perfection. His right arm flexed as he brushed his teeth. And I hoped I didn't drool because I was completely mesmerized.

  A soft knock that wasn't nearly as ominous as the one at my door earlier, came before a head popped through a crack in the partially opened door.

  "Morgana," Flynn crooned. In that one word, I could hear his attraction to her. She responded with a wide smile I wanted to shove my fist into.

  She stepped all the way into the room after clearly hearing his invitation by the sheer tone of his voice. She shut the door, leaving her hands hidden behind her back as she basked in his gloriousness. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately he turned fully towards her. I was given a view of his backside, and that wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

  Pushing away from the wall, she strolled over to him in a silver gown that showed off her slender frame, and he turned slightly. It was enough for me to get a view of her hand on his chest.

  "I don't understand. You chose her."

  Apparently there was silent communication going on. Or for all I knew he'd crooked a finger in her direction.

  "I need her to be safe," he said.

  Safe. The word felt like a curse. After all he'd said to me, I was stupefied by his choice of words.

  Her hand moved up his bare chest to cup his neck from the side as she looked up adoringly at him. "And then what."

  "And then I'll stay here." Pause. "With you." Pause. "And give this a chance."

  I saw her grow in height as she stood on toes. He met her halfway as he bent down and kissed her. I jerked back unable to watch anymore. I fisted my hand to my chest and started moving forward brushing past Tristrom. I kept going biting back tears. I pushed them down because I had no right to them. I had no right to him.

  Tristrom caught up and stopped me with a well place hand on my arm. He turned me towards him and peered into my eyes. The corridor wasn’t lit. The only light streamed through the myriad of holes in the walls along the way.

  Lightly his thumb smoothed over my cheek as if he were checking for tears. He needn't worry because I had swallowed them all away. As I gazed into his patience eyes, there was nothing between us. I didn't feel attraction towards him, and he didn't seem to be attracted to me either. His attention had brotherly affection written all over it which would have been weird considering I didn't know him. But after everything, I felt safe with him like it was in his nature to be kind.

  Afraid his compassion would turn into pity as quickly as ash in flame; I pulled away and got an eye full. I happened to be at the right angle to see into another room. Rowen stood in front of Fey girl. His palm was on her cheek; his mouth barely an inch away. Black lines branched out like vines over every inch of exposed skin between them. The winter white of her coloring somehow paled. Or maybe she was turning gray. All too soon, she deflated like the air balloon and disappeared. Then she was dust without even a pop of sound though it looked very much like the TV version of what happened to a vampire after being staked.

  Swiftly, I was moving again. I hadn't initiated it. Tristrom had me by the wrist drawing me down the corridor until he opened another door, and we stepped into a room.

  "Why did we run?" I sounded a little short of breath. I wasn't sure if it was our sporadic run or the urgency of it that had me breathing heavy.

  "You’re not safe here."

  His flat assessment was the understatement of the year. But I was there to save or maybe not save but bring Tristrom out of the clutches of the Fey and yet he kept saving me.

  The response on the tip of my tongue was ridiculous. Why, was too easy of a question. Larrison had very bad intentions towards me. I knew that, the whole castle knew it. And that was enough of a threat without knowing the rest. But there was something I did need to know.

  "Why are you helping me?"

  I wanted to believe him. I wanted to trust him. I needed help, and clearly I couldn't depend on Flynn. It hurt, but it was what it was. And I should help myself, but ultimately, I needed Tristrom. I did have a task to complete.

  When he didn't answer, I closed my eyes and backed up. I'd already gotten a good look at the room. The walls were a buttery yellow nearly gold. The dark wood of the bed butted up in the corner. When the back of my legs hit the mattress, I sank on it and clasped my hands together as I leaned forward.

  "You don't belong here." His words drifted over the heavy gap between us. I couldn't' be sure how to take what he said.

  "Is that a threat or a warning?”

  After my question, I allowed my eyes to meet his. He didn't immediately respond, and it became clear that he measured each word much like I did my ingredients when cooking a new dish.

  We broke eye contact when a pounding came at his door.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  With two pointed fingers, he indicated he wanted me to slip under the covers of his bed. Another rap at the door had me quickly doing as he asked. I had a second to see him tug his shirt free of his pants and begin to unbutton it. It didn't take a genius to know he wanted it to appear as though he was dressing not undressing. I buried myself under the covers. I didn't want to be recognized, and I also didn't want to let my flushed cheeks to undermine his ruse if I was forced to reveal myself.

  "Brother." The word was said like it was a load of crap. I could imagine the smirk on Larrison's face.

  Tristrom said nothing and I didn't expect more. Each word he used meant something. He didn't spout off casually. It made me wonder if he was always like that or if it was a result of some event.

  "The girl, Mercy... have you seen her?"

  I guessed Tristrom shook his head because Larrison continued to speak. "We're looking for her. I need you to help in the search. Manage the troops. Two is better than one, right brother?"

  There was a long pause before Tristrom said, "Give me a minute."

  "I see you have company. Finally got a female into your bed you eh brother. Who is she?"

  The door clicked closed without pause, and I admired Tristrom's restraint. I would have slammed it in the cocky jerk’s face.

  Soon the coverlet I'd used to bury myself under, peeled back. Blue eyes just shy of gray, earnestly held mine. Again, there was a long pause before he spoke.

  "Stay here. I'll be back."

  I nodded, and he pulled the covers back over me and lightly released them. There were a few more moments before I heard the click of the door. Muffled instructions were called out before footsteps went in opposite directions.

  It would have been easy to stay hidden and close my eyes to find oblivion. But I threw my legs over the side of the bed and inspected the room. My hatred for the queen grew. The walls were interspersed with framed mirrors of all shapes and sizes.

  There was no place to gaze without Tristrom being forced to think he was less. And he wasn't a bad looking guy. In fact, had I never dated Luke, I would think Tristrom more my speed. He was super cute but not overly handsome, attractive not pretty. But here amongst the Fey, he would be considered flawed even ugly in their minds with all their inhuman perfection.

  I felt my nails dig into my palms and saw for the first time in days rage on my face. I took a moment to inspect myself. After having the Fey do whatever they did to me the day before, I was curious if I somehow looked different. Flynn had made me feel beautiful. But the person in the mirror with the wild hair and drab nightgown looked how I felt, awful.

  I glanced away not wanting to throw myself a pity party. I had a job to do. So I checked out what else was in the room. The only other furniture was a bedside table where a dusty book sat. Across from the bed but centered was a short wardrobe. On top of it was a snow globe. I reached up on tiptoes to grab it. It was the only other visible object in the room.

  Once I got it down, I realized just how heavy it was. A stirring of white flakes settled quickly. There in the middle was a blonde figurine of a boy who leaned just a bit forward with one arm stretched towards a dark haired girl. She wore a mischievous smile in black framed glasses and appeared to be running away from the boy. The figure glanced over her shoulder but didn't reach back. If the queen allowed it in his room, my guess was it meant something. Who was the girl who’d run away from Tristrom?

  The base of the globe was almost too big for my one hand grip, but I shook it anyway. I needed to see how winter only made the boy’s desperate need for the girl impossible.

  Disgusted, I slid the globe back on the top of the wardrobe. I then stepped in front of another mirror only to get a distorted reflection like the kind at carnivals. I raised my hand to punch it when the door opened, and a girl slipped inside.

  Her eyes widened when she saw me. It was as if she were reenacting her pose from when I saw her earlier. Hands behind her, she leaned her back on the door as if it were the only thing holding her up.

  "Oh my goodness, you're here." Morgana moved forward like I was an enigma she saw for the first time. "Everyone is looking for you."

  I stepped away from her false sincerity. There was no way she was concerned about me. I shifted towards the only potential weapon in the room, the weighty snowglobe. Somehow I didn't think Tristrom would be broken up if I destroyed it.

  Not moving, I stood prepared for whatever came next. I would hurt her if she outed me. I couldn't say I didn't have an ulterior motive, but the main one would be self-perseveration not jealousy.

  "Flynn told me," she said sympathetically.

  A spike of anger speared me. "Told you what?" I asked coldly.

  She wasn’t at all deterred by my attitude. "I can help."

  Her hand wrapped around my arm like the snake she was. I really was getting tired on people putting their hands on me, well-meaning or not. I tried to shake off of her grip, but she had a stony grip that molded to me. She dragged me across the room ending my time to explore Tristrom's room. Not to be nosy, well maybe, but only to find out more about him. His room held secrets about him. Like, although it had been painted in a cheerful color, it was downright sad.

  I bent to kick out at her.

  “Stop.” She speared me with a look. “I could give a shout and my brother would be here in a minute. But I’m trying to help you out. For Flynn,” she added.

  Her face was sincere. Was it possibly Flynn asked her to help like I’d suggested? Maybe. I relaxed and let her poked her head out of the room’s door. I could always put up a fight if I thought she was double-crossing me.

  The coast was clear, and she moved like a cat, lithe and sneaky. She hardly made a sound, which seemed to be the Fey way. Although that didn’t make sense? Why did the soldiers barrel about? Then again, maybe it was only royalty that possessed light feet.

  We zipped down a long hall before she turned a corner. I paid more attention to where we were going after that. I had no idea of this girl's goals. She may still see me as a rival despite Flynn's declaration that he only wanted to keep me safe. I didn’t hold an ounce of trust when it came to her.

  A couple more twist and turns we stood in front of a very plain looking door. It didn't appear any different from the rest of the doors we’d passed. There wasn't a plaque to announce the room's purpose, and I considered that a good thing.

  "What's in here?"

  Her grin spread like the sun as dawn approached. "Everything you dream of."

  As if they were waiting for us to get to this spot, footsteps trumpeted in our direction. Her eyes shined more like a cat than the kitten she pretended to be. "Go ahead. There isn’t' much time."

  Her eyes promised bad things when she made no move towards the door. And there was that saying about a cat and curiosity. Call me a fool, but I turned the knob anyway.

  "Hurry," she urged me again as the footfalls grew closer.

  At that point, I had nothing more to lose. I would be caught anyway. I slipped in the room alone expecting, I don't know, Larrison waiting for me, but there was nothing beyond a nondescript room. The walls were maroon above a golden border and ivory below. And there was a bed, covered in the same maroon as the walls with gold filigree woven in the fabric.

  The room was by far the smallest I'd been in so far. There were only five steps to the bed, with about ten steps from the bed to the wall on either side. I stood still wondering what the punchline was.

  Morgana couldn’t possibly be trying to help me. Where had she gone? What had she meant by everything I dreamed of? Did she think I longed for sleep because there wasn't much else to do in this room?

  As the soldiers passed with their steps as one, I breathed out half expecting an ambush. None came, and I was left alone. I closed my eyes and placed my hands on my forehead. I guessed maybe Morgana had indeed helped me, most likely to gain points with Flynn. She had to have a reason for this. Or maybe she was going to alert Larrison where I was. And I was just tired of running.

  I stood still, for just a moment, and thought about better times. I found myself wishing for school and lunchtime, as crazy as that was. I wanted to see Luke's expectant face as I walked towards him with a tray in hand.

  "What are you doing?" The voice cut in from the past I thought I lost. A hand on my forearm cleared the picture.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Rock steady were adjectives that didn't describe me at the moment. I swayed slightly on my feet.

  “Maggs,” I breathed. Flaming hair that was always tamed crowned her pretty head.

  "What's going on with you today?" Maggie asked with her brows pinched.

  "Umm... Nothing." I wanted to lean back on the wall that should have been behind me, but my hands were full with a lunch tray. I looked down and noticed a wilted salad covered with cold and dry looking chicken slices. I took a step back needing to know if I would make contact with a wall without looking back. When my step didn’t encountering any resistance, I nearly panicked.

  "This way silly," Maggie said with her hand still on my arm.

  I had a moment of wanting to snatch my arm away. Hadn't I just thought about how I was tired of people grabbing me? But I glanced up and caught sight of golden curls. My stomach sunk in that sensation you get from that first high drop on a roller coaster ride or when the floor disappears from beneath you.

  Finally, the air bubble that held back all other noises popped. Sounds of lunchroom chatter filled my ears with a normalcy that seemed foreign for my short time away from school.

  It wasn't until he turned and gave me a winning smile did I finally move forward. I felt the sob bubble its way to the surface but I held it at bay. I wouldn't cry. I wouldn't cry. I'd cried enough.

  Standing in front of the bench where sat, I didn't make a move to sit next to him. I just stared. Luke was alive. Luke was here. I wasn't sure what was reality. Had I dreamed Fairy or was I dreaming now? It may have been wishful thinking on my part, but I soaked him in.

 

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