“If you refuse to keep order in this castle, then I’ll have to,” Ezryn says. “I will inform Rosalina enough to keep her safe here. Obviously, she’ll not be privy to our innermost dealings. But this castle will be her home, as it is to all who dwell here.”
Slowly, I stand, drawing Farron up with me. The only sound in the room is the thorns, already growing back, snaking along the walls and ceiling of Kel’s room. Damn, that fiend’s magic is relentless.
Keldarion’s chest rises and falls, breath heavy in his throat. “Tell her what you must. Feed her. Dress her up. Do as you will.” Then that piercing ice-like gaze locks into all of us. “But none of you will touch her.”
He stalks away into the shadows of his room, and the power of his words radiates through my body. Fuck. Why do I get the feeling that out of all of Kel’s crazy rules, this one is going to be the hardest to follow?
18
Rosalina
Lastnight,Isleptin a prison cell. Tonight, I’m in a beautiful room, with a soft four-poster bed.
It might as well be that cold dungeon.
I tried to help the fae man… but he changed. Papa’s raspy warning echoes in my mind:‘They’re monsters, Rose! Beasts!’
Yeah, I figured that when Keldarion shoved me in a cell and Ezryn choked me and accused me of being a spy. I never imagined they’re actuallydemonic wolves.
I curl in on myself, wrapped tight in the blankets. That thing… It attacked me. Dried blood coats my leg. The ice Keldarion covered the wound in has long since melted. I know I should have tried to wash it somehow, or at least bandaged it, but I can’t do anything but cower in my bed.
What am I going to do?
I’m a prisoner to four fae princes. And I’m powerless against them.
The sky begins to lighten. I think I managed an hour or two between all the tossing and turning. The fear has faded with the night and given way to sadness. I hug my pillow and cry.
My door creaks open and I jolt up. But there’s only a little white rabbit. It cocks its head at me, staring with shining red eyes.
“Hi, cutie,” I whisper, voice gravelly from crying. “Are you trapped in this castle too?”
The rabbit hops forward, and then in one big leap, jumps upon the bed. I can’t help but smile. I always wanted a pet, but with Papa’s erratic schedule, it seemed unfair.
The bunny wiggles right up beside my face and I reach out, stroking the soft, downy fur. “Did you need some company too?” I sniff. “It’s okay. I’m here.”
The bunny is so sweet with her little pink nose, long ears, and shining red eyes that seem so intent on me. Dawn breaks over the horizon, and the first golden rays of sunlight filter through the window. “What’s your name?” I ask. “Snowball? Fluffy? Wiggles—AHH!”
Fluffy is…growing. And shedding her fur like some sort of fucking nightmare. I scramble backward, but by the time I blink my eyes, the rabbit is gone and replaced with… Astrid.
“You can call me Fluffy if you want to.” She smiles. She’s lying so casually on my bed, her head beside me on the pillow. And she’s butt-ass naked.
“W-where are your clothes?” I squeal. “Or your fur?”
She looks down at her thin, pale body. “Oh right. I forgot humans aren’t as comfortable with nudity.” She giggles and pushes herself up, padding across the room to grab a robe from the wardrobe.
I push myself up onto all fours and gape at her. She turns and stares back, her human eyes the same shade of light red as the bunny’s. Wait. Not her human eyes. She’s fae, like them.
Astrid crosses her hands in front of her and smiles softly, like she’s waiting for me to catch up.
“Why,” I ask slowly, “were you a rabbit?”
She laughs and glides across the floor to sit on the edge of the bed. Her straight white hair falls to her chin, and her bangs are cut right above her pale eyebrows. “I’m a hare, actually. They’re quite common in the Winter Realm. You should come see them!”
The only thing I know about hares was that one time I was lying in bed with Lucas, and he was stroking my face, staring at me with what could have been love. And he smiled and opened his mouth, and I swore he was going to tell me all the things I so desperately wanted to hear. But he said, ‘Have you ever heard the death keel of a hare? Sometimes I like to snipe them with the rifle, but I don’t get the sound if it’s too clean of a shot. I can get them to make it with my knife, though. It’s unlike anything you’ll ever hear.’ Then he mounted me, placed his hand over my face, and whispered in my ear, ‘I want to hear you make a sound like that.’
I don’t know if I ever gave him what he wanted.
I squeeze my eyes shut, willing my mind to return to the present. Because I’d much rather be in this room with this fucking werebunny than that moment again.