Page 66 of A Curse of Malice & Mercy

I call it a wave of grief, because that’s exactly what it is. It washes over me in a rhythmic pattern, lapping at the shores of my mind like a wave. Sometimes, all is calm, and there are no waves at all. Other times, it’s a storm, and the waves crash into me relentlessly. As I sniffle through the tears, letting the newest bout subside, I turn my head up to the pale sky.

Movement in one of the windows on the second floor catches my attention.

Rainer.

I can’t make out his expression from behind the glass, but I know it’s him from the shape of his body. His strong, yet lanky frame takes up most of the window. His shoulders are rounded, as if he’s tired from carrying weight on them.

The fire in his gaze stokes the flames inside me.

Ken’s words replay in my head. There’s a type of loneliness that’s bone-deep, only cured by finding the one who matches your soul.

I wonder if Rainer ever feels out of control of his life. If he’s truly as lonely as I feel.

Before I can contemplate it any further, the prince disappears from view.

When night comes, I toss and turn in my bed, desperate for sleep. Das Celyn didn’t bring up tea tonight, like they have been, and I can’t help but feel a little let down. They don’t owe me anything, and I hate that they wait on me, but I look forward to the deep tea-slumbers.

Instead of suffering through my dark thoughts, and continuing to let sleep evade me, I make my way downstairs to the kitchen to locate chamomile and valerian root myself.

After so many weeks of working with the faeries, the massive kitchen is easy to find. It’s almost second nature by now.

It rests on the first floor, in the heart of the castle.

In the kitchen, a collection of pots and pans dangle from a centerpiece hovering over the central island counter space. Matching slate counters line the far wall, offering plenty of space for prep.

My bare feet slap gently against the stone flooring as I move from cupboard to cupboard, searching for the tea. I normally assist with the baking duties, so I often stay near the hearth and counter-space on the far right of the room.

I realize I have no idea where the tea is stored.

It’s so quiet, so empty, that I swear I can hear each breath echoing in the wide open space. The eerie silence sends a shudder through me, and I wrap my arms around my body.

Since I can’t find the tea, I settle for taking a walk on the grounds, hoping it might make me sleepy. I leave the kitchen and pause. My head swivels both directions down the broad hallway.

I’m tempted to head left to the foyer, to try the front door again, test the barrier, but it’s pointless. Even if the barrier is finally gone—which I doubt it is—I’m definitely not heading into the woods at night.

The woods are more of a threat than Rainer is at this point.

Deciding to visit the gardens, I head right, toward the doors at the back of the palace.

Luckily, no invisible force field stops me as I hesitantly poke a foot over the threshold and step through the garden doors. I smile to myself as the still night air welcomes me. Ignoring the stone pathway, I opt to walk through the grass instead. Thick blades tickle my bare feet.

Little freedoms like this are new to me. Something I never had back at the lord’s estate. From now on, I promise myself never to take these moments for granted.

The moon and stars hide behind clouds, the entire sky one stretch of endless black, but I know they’re up there. It’s an innate sense of trust—knowing the moon and stars are there even when they’re out of sight.

I wish I had someone in my life I trusted as much as the moon. Someone who would show up, night after night, no matter what the day held.

Shaking my head, I focus on the flowers around me and stroll leisurely around the rose bushes.

They carry a delicious floral aroma that’s grown familiar. They remind me of Rainer—beautiful, enticing, but prickly. Covered in thorns to keep others at bay. Is that why he likes his roses so much?

Because they’re like him?

The breeze picks up a touch, and I swear I hear a whisper in the wind.

“Alesssssia.”

My blood turns to ice. I stop, holding my breath as I squint into the dark shadows haunting the edges of my vision.

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