Keldarion.
“Unlike another fae we know,” Astrid huffs. “Ca—”
Marigold shoots her a grim look. “Don’t speak such a name here. The master forbade it, remember?”
“I don’t know how we could forget him. Not with all of this.” Astrid gestures to one of the many thorns tearing through the walls. “Or with his constantpresentsto the master.”
“I don’t know how anyone could forget him once they get a look.” Marigold fans herself with a napkin. “Why do the evil ones always have to be so handsome?”
I guess they’re talking about the Prince of Thorns. Astrid said he creates the briars, controls the goblins, and is from a place called the Below.
“How’s the breakfast?” Astrid blinks her large eyes at me, obviously eager for a change of subject.
“The best food I’ve eaten in a long time.” It’s the truth. Faerie food sure beats the stale cold Pop-Tarts I usually have as I rush to work. I take a sip of the tea, the taste floral and malty. It’s warm and comforting as it slides down my throat. “So, you all live and work here?”
“Yes, we’re permanent residents. We wouldn’t be welcomed back in our home realms,” Astrid says.
“What do you mean?”
Marigold smooths down the folds of her apron. “There is a deep enchantment over this castle, and it’s not our place to speak about it. But since this is your home now, you should know some things.”
Astrid hops closer, excitement gleaming in her red eyes. “There are four wings in Castletree, each of them representing one of the fae realms: Winter, Spring, Summer, and Autumn. It’s customary that the High Prince of each realm resides in the castle with a host of personally selected staff. I’m from the Winter Realm, and Marigold—”
“Is from Spring.” The fae woman smirks.
“And we’re in the Spring Wing now,” I guess, taking in the flowers that drape down the walls.
“Yes,” Astrid says, “and there’s also High Tower—”
“And you already met the prince of my realm,” Marigold interrupts. I can’t help but think it was an intentional disruption.
This castle holds secrets within secrets.
“The Spring Prince?” I snort. “You mean the masked man in the armor? Yeah, I met him. He wrapped his hand around my throat and choked me out.”
Marigold sits beside me on the bed, eyes wide. “How hard?”
My eyes widen. “W-what?”
She gives a devious leer. “Well, if any of the princes wanted to wrap their large hands around my throat—”
“Marigold!” Astrid hits her with the side of her apron. “You’re so bad.”
“What, a woman can fantasize, can’t she? Not much else for us to do here.”
My face flushes. I think we both have different feelings toward being choked out. Though now I can’t stop thinking about how his hand was big enough to wrap around my throat and the strength he possessed to lift me.
I give myself a well-deserved slap on the forehead. What the hell is wrong with me? I turn back to Astrid and Marigold.
“So, the princes and the staff… Do they ever, uh…” I trail off, not sure how to word it.
“No!” Astrid says quickly. “They’re all very respectful of us.”
“Unfortunately.” Marigold sighs, then gives a little sniff. “Oh, I almost forgot. I brought you some fresh clothes.”
I give a sniff as well. Going through those briars and spending the night in a prison cell has not done me any favors. Marigold ducks down beneath the cart.
She hands me a stack of clothes and I place them on my lap. I can’t help but notice how soft the fabric is, and how dirty my hands are on top of it. In fact, I think there’s still some dried blood on me. “Thank you.”