Dayton’s stupid, perfect laughter echoes in the chamber as he leaves.
15
Rosalina
Thesettingsundripssoft pink and red light throughout my room.
Marigold has put the staff to work. Maybe she really is as scary as Dayton implied. When I returned from the hot springs, there were fresh flowers in painted vases, and they had removed the furniture coverings to reveal a white vanity and wardrobe. She’d taken no time at all filling it with beautiful gowns and dresses. The bed has fresh sheets with the faint smell of roses beneath the ever-present aroma of cherry blossoms.
Marigold proceeded to feed me an early dinner. It couldn’t have been more than four o’clock, but I’m always happy to eat. The soup was warm and comforting, and I hadn’t been able to keep from laughing with my mouth full as Astrid and Marigold drilled me for every detail on my encounter with Dayton.
Dayton, the Prince of Summer.
I’d been naked in the same water as a freaking fae prince. I think my cheeks are still red from it. Especially when Marigold asked me to describe his abs in great detail. She’d probably have self-combusted if I’d mentioned that perfect ass of his.
After I’d finished eating, Astrid and Marigold gathered my dishes but left a bowl of dried fruit and nuts on the vanity in case I get hungry during the night. They opened the door to the ensuite privy and showed me how to work the latrine—thank sweet baby Jesus the fae have indoor plumbing. Then they bid me goodnight. “Remember, lovey,” Marigold had tutted, “don’t be leaving your room until sunrise. That’s an order straight from the master.”
Now they’re gone, a surprising pang of loneliness washes over me. It’s so weird. I don’t get lonely. I’m perfectly content in my little home waiting for Papa. But this place, while beautiful, is different. And they didn’t leave me a single thing to do. Tomorrow, I will have to ask if there are any books in the castle.
I grab my phone off the neatly folded remnants of my clothing. Of course, there’s no service, and my battery is near dead. But I give myself one moment to look at a picture of Papa, then one of Lucas. Despite the fact he abandoned me, I hope he made it home safely. He’d been so close to the rosebush—he must have escaped. I flip through a couple more photos in my favorite album and linger on an old, scanned photo of Mom and Papa in front of the willow tree. Her long brown hair is curled, and she wears the moonstone rose locket around her neck, the one Papa never takes off. It’s one of the few things we have left of her.
Suddenly, I wish he had something of mine as well.
After I give myself a moment of pity, I slam the phone into my bedside drawer, and am instantly overcome with boredom. The sun hasn’t set yet, and I’m not tired. My body still feels worked up from my hot springs encounter.
Dayton hadn’t given me any information about the man in the dungeon. Why can’t I get him out of my head? If I knew what he’d done, why they locked him up…
Maybe he’s as eager to escape as I am. What if he knows the lands? Perhaps a way to get passed the goblins? Something sparkles in my chest, an urgency driving me forward.I need to find the man in the dungeon.
I’ve already changed into the pajamas Marigold gave me, a soft nightdress with pink flowers embroidered at the bottom, so I grab a plain blue cloak from the wardrobe. Then I pull on my old boots and head to the door.
What’s so wrong about leaving my room at night? I tug on the handle, and the door jiggles.
Locked.
Of course, it’s locked. I take a sweep of the room, looking for anything to pick the lock with. There’s the rustle of the plants, and I turn to see a briar shifting, growing a little taller. One of its thorns grows long and pointed—pointed like a lock pick.
That’s eerily convenient.But I’ve never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth, so I say a pleasant thank you to the creepy vine and pluck the thorn. The point slides into the latch and I hear the door click open instantly.
I nervously tuck the thorn into my hair and slowly step into the silent halls.Where is everyone?I have no plan, only a powerful urge in my gut to speak to this fae. It feels important.
The route Ezryn took as he dragged me by my scarf comes back to me, and I emerge into the main foyer. Down the stairs is the front door and that strange mirror.
This room is empty too. Does everyone turn in early?
From the entrance hall, I follow the same path up the staircase to the dungeon in the tower, carefully weaving around the thorns as not to poke myself on them.
The damp air sliding over my wet hair sends a shiver down my spine. No torches have been lit, and I make my way by the dying red light of the sun that filters in through the open barred windows.
The circling stairs end, and I come to the cells.
My heart stutters. There he is.
But he’s lying down, eyes closed. A surge of dread consumes me until I see the soft rise and fall of his chest.Just asleep.
He’s still shirtless and wearing nothing but plain brown pants. “Hey,” I whisper through the bars. He doesn’t stir. There doesn’t seem to be anyone else here, but this is where that big icy brute snuck up on me last time, so I don’t want to speak too loudly.
Instead, I pull the long thorn from my ponytail and try it in the lock. Within a few moments of fiddling around, it clicks open. Without a sound, I lower it to the ground and push open the barred door.