Page 4 of Blackwarden
I’d been staring at him this entire time and he, in turn, had been staring back. His dark eyes, two bottomless pits of mystery. I tried to find my voice but failed and shook my head instead. His lips tugged up in a small smile before smoothing back into a cold reticent expression.
“Very well then.” He made a dismissive gesture at the room around us. “This is the dining room. The Gatehouse provides whatever it is you wish to eat, you have only to think of it, and it shall appear.”
More magic.I wrapped my arms around myself, following his downcast eyes to the empty plate in front of him. Before I could grasp what was happening, the air above it shimmered, and a modest portion of roast and potatoes appeared.
I leaned away, unsure if I was more shocked by the fact that magic had just plucked his desires from his mind and created a meal before my very eyes. Or that he’d chosen something as pedestrian as meat and potatoes. Then, the smell of it hit me like cold water to the face. It was the scent of my mother’s kitchen—fresh herbed gravy and onions. Instead of leaning away I began to lean forward, my stomach suddenly reminding me it was desperately empty.
He cut a piece of roast with his elegant hands, and I was transfixed—an intoxicating mix of terror and curiosity coursing through my veins. My eyes followed the bite to his mouth, his lipsparting to receive the nibble of meat. I held my breath from the intimacy of the moment as he pulled a clean fork from between his lips and chewed slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. The muscles in my shoulders tightened, heat rushing into my cheeks as I tried, and failed, to look away.
Goosebumps rippled down my arms. Was this more magic? Had he put me under some strange spell to seduce me? I’d heard stories of such things—Fae wooing humans away from their homes or lovers, glamouring themselves to appeal to the baser desires of their prey. I felt hot all over as he brought a full glass of wine to his mouth, his tongue brushing the rim before he tipped it to take a drink.
He took another bite, and my body refused to cooperate. I’d gone from hot to numb, frozen in place, unable to break free.
“Tell me your name.”
It wasn’t a question, and he didn’t offer his own.
“Rosalin Greene.”
“Where are you from?”
“Fennigsville.”
“And you were the chosen?
“Yes,” I lied. I wasn’t ready to risk someone dragging my sister here in my place if for some reason this broke a rule I wasn’t aware of.
He nodded as he took another bite, chewing slowly, sending another flush of heat through me.
“Are you sure you aren’t hungry, Ms. Greene?”
With shocking clarity, I seemed to break free from whatever spell he’d cast on me. Was it my name? Or was it simply that I was, in fact,veryhungry?
“The Gatehouse seems to think you are.” A wicked smirk crept across his face.
I swallowed hard, too scared to look. What had I been thinking about that might have materialized on my plate? Because I knew I hadn’t been thinking of food.
To my morbid embarrassment, slices of some foreign dark purple fruit rested in a pool of honey. I’d never seen anything likeit. It looked like an apple, but the peel was the color of a twilight sky, and its flesh a deep violet.
“A midnight apple,” he purred.
I shot him the fiercest glare I could muster, his eyes firmly planted on mine once again as he cut another bite of his roast.
“Seems you’re hungry for...Fae fruit.”
I knew the double meaning of his words. He controlled this moment entirely, and I was desperate to break free, finally ripping my focus from him to the fruit in front of me. I hesitated, taking a sharp breath as I considered my options. I’d heard somewhere never to accept food from the Fae, that they took debts, even something as simple as nourishment, very seriously. The last thing I wanted was to be bound by an obligation.
“Please, eat. Food is given freely here.”
I blushed. Did he know what I was thinking? Was this a trick to ensnare me once and for all? My stomach made my decision for me, grumbling so loudly I wondered if he’d heard. Was it better to be indebted to a Dark Fae than starve? I would take the risk and add it to the list of all the other risks I’d already taken.
We ate in silence. The midnight apple was delicious, sweeter and more decadent than the apples I was used to. I avoided his eyes, but he stared mercilessly. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the Dark Fae explained the rules of my indenture as matter-of-factly as one could. It sounded like he’d recited them so often, he’d die of boredom if he needed to again.
“The Gatehouse is only a place you’ll be passing through. You’ll be educated on etiquette, expectations, and given eight days to acquaint yourself with magic.”
What did that mean? I shivered as I found myself, once again, unable to pull my eyes from his mouth as he spoke. I hated how he drew such dangerous attention from me, like a lovesick teenager. I’d been in love. I’d been married to Bastion, our relationship built on the fondness we’d cultivated since childhood. I was not alovesick teenager, though I had to admit the last year without him had been agonizingly lonely.
My brain was a mess of heavy, wet thoughts, and I wondered if this was more magic, or a symptom of finally being out of that damned carriage. I was unable to register everything he said as he continued listing all the rules I was to follow. I tried desperately to commit them to memory, but I was certain I’d forget something.
