Page 155 of Kingdoms of Night

“Yes,” the others echoed.

The woman with the violet eye clasped her hand over Idalno’s and kissed her on the cheek. “We’re so happy you’re here!”

“Thank you.” Feron pressed her back firmly, managing a small smile. “We appreciate your help.”

“Quickly, then,” the man with the silver gloves said. “We need to get back before our absence is noticed.”

The four members of the court hurried away, silks and velvets rustling. They slipped into the golden light, broke into their pairings, and waltzed away with dramatic steps and graceful decorum. Perfect in rhythm and form as the dancers on the plains and performers at the sacred places.

Feron glanced at her, his hand still wrapped tight around hers. The heat reached her even through the thin material of his glove. “Are you ready?”

She nodded, her heart skipping faster as she met his gaze. “Let’s go.”

CHAPTERTWENTY-SIX

FERON

Feron held her hand tight as they hurried down the castle hall, her skirts rustling with every step. She was back. Alive and well. And oh, she smelled divine. He had to tell her. That kiss had been a start, but only a start. No kiss could say everything he needed. Especially if he wanted to make sure she understood.

And he had to tell her. Tell her exactly how he felt. That there was no future for him without her. But now wasn’t the time.

Not when they were so close to finding the girls.

Still, he couldn’t let go of her hand.

Puck had been right about them. Less than three days ago, he hadn’t even known a woman like Idalno existed. Now he couldn’t imagine life without her.

The door opened into a large bedroom. Probably Puck’s. It smelled intensely of cloves and myrrh. Mannequins were set up at intervals with full outfits arranged over them, fine silks and bright velvets as well as gold brocades and fur surcoats, all exquisitely made, beautifully tailored, and brightly ornamented. The charm necklace he’d worn when he’d greeted them hung on a rack with other similar baubles.

A four-poster bed sat on a marble dais, mounded with pillows and with a thick quilt crisply folded back. It didn’t look as if anyone had disturbed it for quite some time.

The left side of the room had the usual items he expected in a noble’s bedroom, complete with a dresser, sitting chair, tables, shoe racks, wardrobes, and the like. Even a large bronze clock ticked and tocked loudly.

But the right side of the room had a number of desks set up against the wall, and around a bay window were thick shiny seat cushions in all colors of the neon rainbow. The desk drawers were cluttered with all kinds of items. But the room smelled only of cloves and myrrh, soap and a touch of lavender.

Not a trace of Annette. Nor of anyone else.

No other sign of the girls either.

“Lalko?” Idalno stepped inside, looking back and forth. “Lalko? Annette? Girls, are you here?” She ran to the magenta door on the far left of the room. It opened into another closet filled with all kinds of items, from crystal balls and giant feathers to shiny cushions and boxes of keys.

The turquoise door opened into a wardrobe packed to the very edges with bright clothing.

Her hands shook, her fingers tingling “Lalko! Annette! Where are you?” She turned toward him, her beautiful dark eyes so wide they were white rimmed. “Where has he taken them?”

Puck hadn’t lied when he’d said the girls were safe—he was sure of it. Yet there was no scent nor sign of them. “I don’t think the girls were ever here.”

“But—” She paused, then frowned at the largest of the desks.

A large manuscript lay open, with a duo of silver frames bound together by a series of ornate clasps. She picked them up.

There were pictures of people, unmistakably him and Idalno. They didn’t look like oil paintings, but were as vivid as if the actual moment in time had been captured. His depicted him on a walk through the forest, hands in his faded pockets, expression downcast. Idalno’s showed her beside a river, untangling some ivy or vine with orchid blossoms. Her mouth was screwed up, with her tongue sticking out at the side ever so slightly.

“What is all this?” he asked.

“Pictures of us. Notes about us. It’s—it’s us.” She traced her finger down a line in one of the books. “He has all these notes. He wasn’t joking when he said we were a perfect match. It’s like a formula. I’m not even sure how he knew all this or how he figured it out. But it looks like he started with you.” She tapped the page and a set of marks. “And then—then he found me. But it doesn’t mention the girls.”

He stepped closer. For a moment, he almost placed his hand on the small of her back. Then he thought the better of it and dropped his arm to his side. Not now. Not when they needed to confirm what had happened to the girls. Not when he didn’t even know what to say.

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