Page 19 of Tangle of Lust and Lethargy

To one side, a grand four-poster bed stood, draped in luxurious fabrics of deep green and gold. Opposite, a fully stocked kitchen area boasted gleaming copper pots and a pantry that promised sustenance. Bookshelves lined another wall, filled with ancient tomes and curiosities from across the fae realms. A writing desk sat nearby, quills and parchment neatly arranged atop its polished surface.

Despite the opulence, nature had not been forgotten. Potted plants dotted the room, their leaves shimmering with an ethereal light. A large window looked out onto a private garden, lush with vegetation unseen in the mortal world.

As we filed in, the contrast between the marshy wilderness we’d trudged through, and this hidden oasis of comfort was staggering. It was a space fit for a king, yet cozy enough to feel like a true hideaway from the burdens of rule.

Damon whistled low, breaking the awed silence. “Well, well. Looks like Tinkerbell here knows how to live it up. Anyone else feeling seriously underdressed for this swanky safe house?” He looked at Garrick as he gently took Zara from his shoulder. “Where can I deposit Sleeping Beauty?”

Garrick pointed to a bedroom with an open door.

Damon walked in, gently placed a sleeping Zara on the bed, and pulled the quilt over her. He brushed her hair from her face, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

“All right, Sabrina, magic time’s over. Time to hit the hay,” he murmured, his tone teasing and tender. “Can’t have you turning me into a frog or something while I’m not looking.”

As he softly closed the door, I gave him a warm smile.

He caught my look and shifted, his posture stiffening. “What?” he asked gruffly, but a hint of defensiveness colored his tone.

“Nothing,” I replied, still smiling.

Damon rolled his eyes, trying to play it cool. “Look, somebody had to make sure she didn’t faceplant on the way to bed. You know how witches are after they’ve been doing their mojo.” He glanced at the closed door with a flicker of concern crossing his face. “Besides, can’t have her puking all over the place. That’s a mess I don’t want to clean up.”

With a dismissive wave, he walked away. “I need a drink. Something strong.”

Garrick materialized from the shadows, a smirk on his lips. He held a glass filled with a swirling, iridescent black liquid that seemed to absorb the light around it. Tiny pinpricks of starlight danced within its depths, and wisps of shadow curled off its surface like smoke.

“Something strong, you say?” he drawled. “Why not sample a true drink of power?” He raised the glass, the liquid inside shifting hypnotically. “This is Twilight’s Venom, a delicacy in the Unseelie realm. Care for a sip, mortal? I warn you, it’s not for the faint of heart. One drop, and you might find yourself dancing in our midnight revels for all eternity.”

Damon eyed the drink warily, jaw clenching. A flicker of uncertainty crossed his face, but determination replaced it. He squared his shoulders and met Garrick’s gaze.

“Yeah, well, last I checked, ‘midnight revel’ wasn’t on my bucket list,” he retorted with dripping sarcasm. “I prefer my drinks without the side of eternal damnation, thanks.”

He glanced around and spotted a decanter of what looked like whiskey on a nearby table. With a pointed look at Garrick, he strode over and poured himself a glass. “Now, this is more my speed. No fancy light show, no eternal servitude. Just good old-fashioned alcohol.” He took a swig, then added with a smirk, “You should try it sometime, Your Highness. Might help you loosen up that crown.”

Garrick’s smirk faltered, clearly not used to being dismissed so casually. Damon grinned and raised his glass in a mock toast before turning away, effectively ending the conversation on his terms.

“Damon,” I warned. “You don’t know how powerful that elixir is.”

He rolled his eyes as he drank it. “This tastes like apple cider. No sweat.”

Ten minutes later, he was passed out in a chair.

I folded my arms and glared at Garrick. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

He shrugged. “Sometimes, your brother can be exhausting.”

Justice looked outside. “Enough of that. How far is the Forgotten Hollows?”

“Not far,” Garrick responded. “But since my castle is overrun, they will be able to see us when we trek across the fields.”

“The fields?” My throat tightened, unease seeping into my bones.

Garrick’s expression darkened. “The Whispering Wastes. A vast expanse of open land between us and the Forgotten Hollows. We’ll be exposed, vulnerable to the watchful eyes of Maci and her demon horde.”

His words wrapped around my heart, heavy with foreboding. I glanced at Damon, still passed out from the elixir, then back to Justice, whose stoic features couldn’t quite mask his concern. Our mission hung over us like a storm cloud, and the crazy journey ahead wasn’t making it any easier.

“So we have no choice,” I stated. “We have to cross the Whispering Wastes to reach the Forgotten Hollows while avoiding Maci and her demons.”

Garrick nodded grimly. “It’s the only way.”

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