Page 31 of Where Shadows Bloom

Curl around my heart like loving hands.

Inside the palace, vast corridors extended before us, lined with columns of red marble. Golden candelabras dotted the hallways, and each candlestick bore crystals that resembled long fangs. Every wall, even here in an inconsequential corridor, was crowned with carved leaves and fruits painted gold.

It was beautiful, I could admit. Far too ostentatious for my liking, but perhaps fitting for the gods that had created this palace. It was said thattheyanswered the king’s prayers, if not those of a peasant girl turned lovelorn knight. What had the king done to deserve such a gift, while so many who haddone nothing wrong suffered?

Ofelia’s fingers curled against the sleeve of my coat. I looked down at her as she gaped at her surroundings. The wonder in her eyes was far lovelier than anything I’d seen in this palace.

“It’s just like I dreamed,” she whispered. She gave her head a tiny shake. “Why did Mother want to keep me from this place?”

The countess was strict, and though Ofelia always bemoaned her mother’s harsh rules, in truth, I respected them. Her Ladyship carried herself with the carefulness of someone who has had to live in fear. Of someone who wants to protect her daughter from that same fear. Which convinced me further that some unspoken danger lay hidden in these walls, covered up with gold and lies.

Before I could say anything, Ofelia grabbed my hand. My heart swung back and forth between finding the gesture familiar and thrilling. We had always touched each other like this, but now each gentle brush had me foolishly imagining that the contact might be because she was fond of me, fond in the way I was fond of her.

She declared, “Let’s find the library!” and began tugging me forward in her wake, and suddenly we were running, whirling like petals tossed to the wind.

Down one corridor, then another. Past tapestries showing ancient battles. Past épées and rapiers and beautifulruby-encrusted daggers hidden within locked cabinets. I lingered near those for an extra second, longing for my own rapier, before Ofelia pulled me away again.

Even though this place was new and strange, and even though we had yet to find her mother, she somehow found it within her to laugh as we ran faster and faster. She glanced back at me, slipping her hand out of my grasp. Her nose was wrinkled playfully as she teased, “Catch me!”

She scampered off, taking a sharp turn down the hallway to the right. My heart was like a horse at full gallop. This joy of hers, this light that glimmered even in the darkest times of her life, I loved it so, even if I couldn’t always understand it.

Poetry drifted through my mind,I seek her with the desperation and reverence of a moth to candlelight.

A laugh broke from my lips, even though my ribs were sore, even though my throat ached from the Shadows’ attack. Her giggle bouncing through the marble halls was like birdsong after a long night.

I had been trained my whole life to be strong, to be quick. I caught up with her in no time, looping my arms around her waist and pulling her gently into the air before settling to a stop.

Ofelia beamed up at me. In the warm afternoon light, her skin was like gold, her eyes glimmering like the crystals of the chandeliers; her hair was the same mahogany as the trim along the lintels. Shebelongedhere.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked me.

It was a simple question, I knew, but I stammered. She couldn’t know. She couldn’t know how I adored her. That wasn’t how her storybooks went. It wasn’t howrealitywent. A noblewoman like her, she would marry a duchess or a viscount or a marquis—not a servant.

Desperate, I looked away from her, gazing at the gold-and-black door at the end of the corridor. It was flanked on either side with guards in shining black armor, like they were crafted from obsidian. If it weren’t for the gold glinting on their armor and the halberds in their hands, I might have mistaken them for Shadows.

“That door,” I murmured. “Black and gold... like that lady mentioned in the salon des jeux.”

Ofelia’s eyes gleamed. “The Hall of Illusions!”

Without another second to assess the situation, she marched up to the two guards, her pale pink skirts fluttering about her like rose petals. “Good afternoon, gentlemen,” she said brightly. “What’s behind this door?”

“Move along, please, mademoiselle,” said the deep-voiced guard on the left.

The one on the right tipped his head, faceless beneath his visor. “You don’t know? You must be new here.”

I joined her by the door, carefully placing myself between her and the men with their halberds. “We’re only curious, sirs,” I said.

The guard on the left shrugged. “The king requests this hall remain closed while it undergoes repairs. Nothing more.”

I did not consider myself very shrewd, but even I knew well enough that this was a lie.

“Can’t we take a peek?” begged Ofelia.

“No,” the guards said in unison. “By order of the king.”

“You don’t understand,” she said, “my mother is missing. She’s somewhere in this palace, I’m sure of it. I think there’s just been some mistake. Her name is Marisol de Forestier?”

“She wouldn’t be inthisroom,” said the deeper-voiced soldier.

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