Page 16 of A Court of Ash and Midnight
The strength of my reaction to him is unsettling. I shouldn’t be here alone, far from the castle, with a complete stranger. I’d spent the last eight years running, and I know danger intimately. This man is danger incarnate. But that’s not even the part that scares me the most. What’s even more unnerving is that despite what Professor Julian told me yesterday, despite what my own instincts confirm now, in this moment, I feel some pull toward him that I can’t explain. Some desire to becloserto him.
I get up and walk down the steps slowly. That part of me that feels like prey tells me not to make any sudden movements. I force myself to breathe slowly, deeply, in case I need to run. Or fight. Daemon’s eyes stay locked on me as I come down the steps; I can feel the heat of his gaze on my skin. When I reach the bottom of the stairs, our eyes meet again. That same spark, that same dissonant feeling of recognition and danger.
I pause, every nerve on alert. “I was just leaving,” I say softly. “I didn’t realize anyone else came here.”
A stir moves over him, almost as if my words surprised him. “You stay,” Daemon says. His voice is deep, but oddly soothing, like the sky in this moment—dark but with the soft edge of dawn. The velvety purple of first light. “I’ll go.”
Despite his words, he stands there for another couple of moments before turning abruptly and striding away, dark cloak swirling at the heels of his boots.
The words come out of me unbidden. “It was you, wasn’t it? The other night?”
Daemon stops walking as suddenly as he’d started, his whole body rigid.
“You’re the one who saved me from… whoever that was.”
He doesn’t say anything, but his silence somehow confirms it for me. “I didn’t save you, Embyr,” he says softly, and then hestrides away from me again, out of the garden, vanishing from sight.
Chapter Nine
Ican’t stay alonein the garden after my encounter with Daemon. I wait just long enough so that it doesn’t seem like I’m following him, and then I make my way back to the castle. Energy buzzes through my veins and my thoughts swarm like a beehive. We’d barely said a handful of words to each other, but I can’t stop turning them over and over in my head.
I didn’t save you, Embyr.
What did he mean? Iknowit was him that night. I’d stared into his eyes this morning, and they were the same eyes I’d seen staring down at me after I fell beneath my attackers. And the way he’d straightened when I’d asked him, his long pause…
Was it some sort of warning? That he’d brought me here, but he hadn’t saved me?
Everything in my life has taken such an abrupt turn, and now I have some broody fae spouting cryptic messages… a brooding fae I have no intention of ever speaking to again. I hadn’t survived this long because of a lack of wits. And if ProfessorJulian told me to stay away from him, that’s what I’m going to do. Daemon claims he’s not my savior, so that means I don’t owe him anything. And I’m happy to keep it that way.
I’m so distracted with my swirling thoughts that I nearly run into someone coming out of a small door at the back of the castle.
“Oh! Pardon me, miss.” The woman flushes and curtsies. She’s only maybe a couple of years older than me, but I can tell from her garb that she’s not fae. She’s wearing a simple ankle-length brown dress, and a matching bonnet over black hair, ringlets of which are attempting to escape the sides.
“No, it’s my fault,” I say hurriedly. I’m not used to people treating me like I’m some higher class. “I wasn’t paying attention.”
Her gaze roves over me, clearly surprised by my words, and then she freezes. “You’re…her. The one they found.” Her eyes widen and she looks almost frightened.
“Um, yes…”
Her reaction makes me feel like someone special, which couldn’t be further from the truth. They’ll all realize soon enough, and then I’ll be out on my own once again. But a sudden waft of baking bread from the open door makes my stomach grumble, and I’m brought very much into concerns of the present moment. “What is that amazing smell?”
She looks at me like I’m crazy for a moment, then says with a slight giggle, “That’s just muffins, miss.” After a moment’s pause, her expression goes sober as if worried she’d offended me. “Would you like some, miss?”
“Please, no need to call me miss.” I smile, hoping to alleviate her worries. It feels odd on my face, and I realize how infrequently I smile, how very unused to polite company I am. “And yes, that would be lovely.”
“Okay, I’ll go fetch you some.”
She turns to duck back inside the door, looking horrified when I squeeze in behind her before it closes.
“I—I think it might be nice to break my fast somewhere less…noisy… than the main dining hall,” I say slowly. The idea of being around that many fae right now, when I’m already so keyed up from the experience in the garden, makes my stomach flutter.
“Of course, mi—,” she catches herself and blushes. “Of course. Whatever you prefer.”
I follow her down a short hallway that opens up into a large kitchen. Large stone ovens line one wall, and another wall is lined with fire pits covered with wrought iron grids, atop which sit huge pots and pans. Shelves line the other two walls, stocked with an assortment of jars and pots and bins of dried foods and herbs. There are two other exits, presumably one of which leads to the dining hall.
“Who’s this?” calls a deep voice when we enter.
The voice is rich and smokey, matching the stone and flame of our surroundings. The speaker is a tall woman with graying red curls piled atop her head, wrapped in a colorful wrap. Her skirt is bright and patterned, too, and a thin row of tiny bells hangs around her curvy waist, ringing faintly as she moves back and forth in front of one of the stoves.
