Page 174 of Flirting with Darkness

Bastian scoffed. “I suppose you didn’t believe…” He opened and closed his mouth, eyebrows pulling together. “Hmm. So, I can’t talk about… Huh.That’sinteresting.” His gaze fell distant as he rubbed his lower lip.

“What?”

Hands tipping so the palms faced me, he shrugged. “I can’t say. But I’ll see if I can get your friend to accompany me here. Can’t imagine Lysander will be too pleased about that—barely lets her out of his sight.”

She was his prisoner. And I was trapped here, unable to help her.

That fucking apple. Why had I been so stupid as to take it?

“Well, I’m getting the hells out of here, since I have the luxury of leaving this place. I’m sure you’ll find some way to pass the time.” Even as he smirked, he wrinkled his nose. “Really, Faolán. Try not to get killed by any of these dream-memories.” He shook his head with atskbefore gripping thin air like it was a door handle and giving it a twist.

The rectangle shimmered like heat haze; shadows curled from its edges, wafting like smoke, then he pulled the door open.

He paused there and turned to Faolán. Holding his gaze, he dipped his chin. “Stay safe.”

“Mm.” Faolán shrugged.

The corner of Bastian’s mouth rose, and he nodded to me. “Until next time, Rose.”

Then he stepped through the dark doorway and was gone.

21

A KIND OF NORMAL

Over the following days, we sank into a routine. I ran through the house and gardens each morning, keeping myself fit so I could rescue Ari as soon as I could leave this place. Then I bathed and joined Faolán and Granny for breakfast. She didn’t often join us for dinner, instead sending a note saying she was too tired but that we should enjoy our meal. House looked after us in all things. And each night, we found ourselves in strange dreams that might’ve been events from the house’s past.

Sometimes they were just odd, like the party where strange music played but we couldn’t find the source.

Other times, they were nightmares like the ritual.

But at least I didn’t face them alone—Faolán was always at my side.

When I asked Granny one morning, she nodded and said she had strange dreams, too. “It’s part of the curse that keeps me trapped here. A punishment.”

“For what?” I asked, leaning forward over my coffee.

“I upset the wrong person.” She gestured towards the front door. “There are some things we can’t speak of in this place.” With an apologetic smile, she returned to her black pudding and grilled tomatoes. Over coffee, she asked what we’d dreamt of, and as I explained, her scowl grew deeper.

I glanced from Faolán to her. “What’s wrong?”

She huffed and glowered at the chandelier over the table. “You’re my guests: I don’t want this house and its dreams frightening you.”

After breakfast, Faolán took me to the gardens where he’d gathered a variety of logs from the woodpile and some pieces of rope.

“What’s this?” I eyed a series of loops formed by one length of rope. Nearby, a thick coil was pinned to the floor.

He trod on the hook holding the coil, pushing it further into the ground. “Training.”

“Blood from a stone, you are.” I scoffed. “Forwhat?”

He shrugged. “Whatever it is you go running for every morning. Figured you need more than just speed.”

Joining Briarbridge’s guard. It seemed silly now. Hells, Briarbridge and its concerns seemed silly, distant. The idea they’d let me, a woman, join the guard’s ranks—that was downright idiocy.

“Hmm.” I shrugged, expecting him to prod for more of a reply, but he only nodded and set to work explaining my first exercise.

He started gently, letting my breakfast go down as I jumped from one log to the next. When I’d mastered doing that slowly, he made me run across them at speed, and when I’d mastered that, he changed their pattern, moving them further apart.

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