Page 6 of Sanctuary with Kings

It continued as I turned in the silk and velvet, my body begging for sleep, my mind waking in the old pattern Birsha had trained me in. Four hours of rest at a time. Not a minute more.

Asterion and the house and the music and the food nourished me in scant nibbles.

But it didn't hurt.

I left the bathroom during my next waking and found Lillian waiting for me at a table set with a richer meal than I'd been served so far. Lillian's head turned in my direction, and my slippers scuffed against the thick carpet.

"I want to take you down to the orangery today, before you grow sick of the same surroundings," she said.

"That's not likely to happen so soon," I admitted.

The window by the bed had been opened again, and the sun was streaking through thin curtains. The room was hazy and pink and smelled of the world outside and the breakfast waiting under the tray.

Lillian smiled. "We could go for a walk in the woods on the property, but I'm sure Marius and Asterion will insist on chaperoning. Their company depends on your acceptance."

It was a baffling offer. That I should be allowed outside. That I could refuse the monster's right to guard me. I didn't comment, taking my seat instead and holding my breath as I lifted the lid on the tray. It didn't stop the scents of fat and salt, a tang of lemon, rich fish, and my mouth watered immediately. The plate was a work of art, spiraling dribbles of sauce, roses of radishes, sprinkles of herbs. I lifted my fork with a quaking hand as Lillian continued to speak.

"Asterion worries someone may come looking for you. And Marius worries I'll trip, I suppose," she said, drily.

"He worries I am mad from my time with Birsha," I said. I pressed my fork down into an egg and marveled as vibrant orange yolk spilled over the white plate. I lifted the fork to my tongue and withheld my whimper.

"Are you?" Lillian asked. I glanced at her and her eyebrows were lifted, but her expression was as serene as ever.

She was lovely and quiet, and a strange part of me wanted to slide myself against her, find a way into her apparent peace and claim it for myself.

"I don't know," I said. "I feel as if I'm dreaming, but I forgot how to dream of beautiful things more than a hundred years ago."

Lillian's breath caught, and then she exhaled slowly. "This is real. We will refill your well."

I cut my food into tiny bites, resting each one on my tongue as Lillian poured me a cup of chocolate, her motions measured and careful.

"You were not in The Seven Veils," I said, watching her as I chewed. One drop added to the well with every bite.

"No, I was taken in by another house. One that sought to offer women…the choice, I suppose," she said, shrugging. "I was introduced to Marius there. And he's always been invested in my freedom to choose as well."

It was a gentle defense of her monster. Did she know he'd been a guest of The Seven Veils too? Did she know I'd never touched him? Neither one of us dug further, and Lillian made silence companionable.

I hadn't left the bedroom yet, and Lillian helped me into a loose gown before taking my arm and guiding me out into the hall. There was a balcony that overlooked a large gallery on my left and a few more doors scattered down the hall ahead of us. Downstairs, a young woman with black hair crossed the tile, her arms wrapped around herself. She lifted her face, glancing up at the last moment, her steps faltering as our eyes met.

"Where are we?" I asked, stopping in place.

The woman blinked at me, her lips parting briefly, and then she hurried ahead. I didn't know her name, but I knew her face.

"Grace House," Lillian said. "It belongs to Asterion, but he's given it to the women who escaped from The Seven Veils when it fell. To recover, rest. Simply a home until we know you'll all be safe in the future."

Was she telling the truth, or was this simply a gilded cage to hold us until Birsha returned? I stared at the massive doors in the great hall, the light of the world calling from outside towering windows. I could run. I could return to the streets, escape London altogether. Steal one bejeweled perfume bottle and find myself passage to some barren, remote place where I might starve to death in peace.

But Birsha would not want me fed with cups of chocolate and rich sauces; he wouldn't allow me to rest my head on feather pillows and sleep until I couldn't stand not to wake. He certainly wouldn't allow me to be guarded by a patient blind woman whose arm linked so loosely with mine that even in my shabby state, I could've shoved her away and run.

Lillian seemed to know my own mind, or she understood a slight shift forward as I made my decision, because we walked together again without a word. Grace House was grand and open, although less glittering and lush than the bedroom I'd been set up in. It had the masculine strength of its owner, with dark marble pillars and simple lines. Lillian led a slow path through a well-stocked library, a parlor, a music room, and out to the southern edge of the house, where sunlight raged through glass and the sharp, fresh scent of oranges cut through every other sense.

Lillian released my arm as we crossed the threshold, and I gaped up at the trees growing inside, branches heavy-laden.

"Bring me an orange?" Lillian called back to me, counting her steps to a small table at the center of the room, where cushioned seats waited for us.

Orchids bloomed in ornate pots, carefully sheltered in the shade of the trees. Fat green leaves ate the generous sunlight that spilled over blue and white tiled floors, cut into small triangles and twisted to make shifting patterns. I closed my eyes for a moment, let the morsel of beauty soak into my blood, and then went to the nearest branch, helping myself to a small burden of oranges.

Lillian's face was upturned, a vessel for light to warm, and she smiled with her eyes closed as I joined her at the table and pressed an orange into her small palm.

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