Page 26 of Blackwarden
I ripped the drapes of the canopy back.
There was no one here. No music, no light. I stood in the middle of a dark room shivering and completely alone.
But it had been so real. I ran my hands down my body, wishing they were his. I squeezed my eyes closed and trembled with shame. I shouldn’t want him. Certainly not as deeply as it seemed my unconscious-self did. This had to be magic. I shook my head in an attempt to drive the desire away. This was his Dark Fae shadows wriggling into my mind, shaping my dreams. It had to be. I glanced around the room, but other than the normal darkness of night, there was nothing.
He wasn’t here. His magic wasn’t either. I collapsed into a heap on my bedroom floor.
I had dreamt it all.
Chapter 13 ~ If I Could Break Him
Rosalin
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When I was finally able to drag myself from bed, I was a mess. Unable to stop thinking about Keres, reliving the dream over and over again. It felt so real, like a memory that had been lost in the back of my mind for years, finally released from its cage and tearing through the very fabric of my soul.
Had he put it in my head? Was that even possible? My cheeks burned with the possibility that he had controlled my dreams. I didn’t know enough about Fae magic to rule it out, and I wasn’t sure I was brave enough to ask. It would be a struggle to sit across from him for breakfast, attempting to forget the unforgettable way the gold chains had draped over every inch of his flawless body.
I’d been ready since dawn, both impatient and thankful Keres hadn’t come to collect me for breakfast. I’m not sure I would have answered the door if he’d knocked. When I had a minute to spare, I slipped out and down the hall to the dining room.
He was waiting for me, eyes downcast. I slid into my chair before he troubled himself to look up. There was a strange expression on his face. One I hadn’t seen before. It was something likeconfusion mixed with frustration. I glanced away from him quickly, unable to hold eye contact. Those were the same eyes from the dream, though they’d been admittedly happier to see me than they were now.
He didn’t say anything, summoning his usual breakfast, he started eating without a word. But I was a ball of nerves. Every breath I took felt tight as his silence stretched for too long. I tried to recall what we’d discussed at dinner the night before. There had been angry words between us, but it had all been replaced with that fucking dream.
I cleared my throat to ask how his evening had been when I finally noticed what he was wearing. I froze, my mouth falling open as every shred of bravery washed away. His doublet, like others, had a deep neckline that exposed his chest down to his navel. But it was what hung around his neck that gave me pause. A collar made of gold plates strung together with chains in the shape of a ribcage. My whole body began to vibrate from the memory of the dream, the way his slender fingers had felt against my delicate skin, the heat of his body between my thighs as I climbed on top of him.
I couldn’t stay in that room.
I couldn’t be there with him.
It wasn’t real. It was a dream. Ineededit to be a dream.
I ran from the room, ignoring the confused expression on his face.
Maybe this whole thing—the Gatehouse, the curse, the sacrifice—was nothing to him. But it waseverythingto me. These were likely the last days of my life. So as I forced myself not to think about the dream, I found that I couldn’t stop thinking about the curse.
I read the slip of paper that I had found tucked into the back of the Old Fae book over and over again, dwelling on each word. I’d found some sheets of stationary in the drawer of my vanity. A pen and inkwell sat on one of the shelves next to the door. Withthem I began making notes. My handwriting neat at first, until everything started to come together at once.
Who had written the journal entry?
It was likely Keres, but it could have been another Dark Fae. The reference to the Hag Queen lined up with what Keres had said, that I was here because of concessions made by the humans after the Fae Wars. Could there have been something else involved? Was it a treaty? Or a punishment?
Whoever had written the entry didn’t want to submit the maidens to whatever fate their lover had befallen, but there was no way of knowing what their beloved’s fate had been. I stared at the words hoping in my heart it wasn’t Keres. I didn’t need a reason to feel sorry for him right now, not when I was doubting everything I knew about Dark Fae already. In reality, I couldn’t allow myself to feel anything for him at all. And a loss, so much like my own, made his angry words the evening before all the more real. That I assumed he was a monster with dark intentions when he was just enduring a punishment.
The reference to having protected forty-three maidens was enough to make my eyes well with tears. If a girl was sent to the Unseelie Court every five years, that meant whoever had written this journal entry had been enduring their punishment for at least two hundred and fifteen years. Most likely longer. The Fae Wars had taken place over five hundred years ago. And based on the age-stained paper, this wasn’t a freshly written entry.
I leaned back. It was very possible Keres was over five hundred years old. Fae were immortal. They could be killed, but otherwise, he was likely to live forever. I let this settle around me, a shiver working its way up my spine.
How old was Keres? I tried to push him from my mind again, but it was getting harder.
What was meant by their faces being eternally recorded? I shuddered, my mind instantly going to the room with the portraits. There had been so many. More than forty-three with betterthan half appearing as nothing but dark silhouettes. What if it had been Keres who painted them all? What if he was the one who dragged every single human maiden to the Unseelie Court?
I still had too many questions, and all I wanted to do was pound on Keres’ door again and ask him. I knew he wouldn’t answer, and in all honesty, I probably didn’t deserve his answers. He’d all but dismissed me the day before when I tried to apologize for the way I’d acted. The memory of his voice as he’d called me human washed over me.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying hard not to let the memory of the dream creep back in around all the other thoughts. I looked at the clock. It was nearly lunchtime, and I was hungry. I couldn’t miss it today, but a piece of me was dreading facing Keres.
“Couldn’t you conjure my lunch here?” I asked the ceiling, hoping the Gatehouse would plop a plate down on my otherwise useless table.
