Page 8 of Forgotten Fate

Of course, this trespassing fae was going to be gone before Cyndella was ever the wiser. I upped my pace and flew up the side staircase toward Endora’s quarters.

Thankfully, the enchantress was in her room and answered almost before I finished knocking.

Endora stared at me with pensive, black irises, pupils lost, her thick, ebony lashes weighing her lids down to give her a perpetually sleepy look.

“I had a sense you were coming my way,” she said, spinning to fan her bohemian-style skirt as she let me enter, the paintbrush in her hand dripping on the wood floors, barely missing her bare feet. She didn’t make it to the canvas, which displayed some hideous abstract display when I ordered her back to face me.

“There’s a trespasser on her way here. I need you in the infirmary to look her over.”

Endora whirled back around, her platinum hair fanning along her waist, eyes popping at the revelation. “Come again?”

“Which part were you having issues with?” I asked dryly.

“All of it,” the enchantress replied, tossing the green-splattered brush onto the easel and hastily wiping her hands on her apron before slipping it over her head. “Trespasser? Infirmary? Look her over?”

“I found her in the Bellewoods—actually, in the Simonian Falls. She was unconscious, and I thought she was dead when I found her.”

“In the caves?” Endora sounded appropriately baffled. The location was not well-advertised.

“In the lagoon. She was unconscious when I approached her, looking truly like death. She woke when I approached.”

My answers did little to alleviate Endora’s confusion. “Who is she? Why are you bringing herhere?”

I turned toward the hallway, determined to finish this conversation on the move. I wanted to make sure we were there when the fae arrived. Endora followed me out into the hallway, securing her door behind, but caught up with me easily, her long legs keeping stride as her head cocked toward me.

“I have no idea who she is. She claims not to remember anything,” I explained, cringing slightly as I heard the words aloud.

I should have practiced saying them before uttering them to the enchantress’ wise ears.

Did I really buy the trespasser’s story? Was I being played?

Endora stopped, her heavily lashed eyes narrowing so much, she appeared sleeping. I kept moving, knowing she would give up on the dubious look and keep pace soon enough.

“Since when do you allow just anyone on the property, let alone someone with such a stupid cover?” Endora asked, her gaze piercing and her voice laced with suspicion.

A flush of heat crept up my neck. Endora had a point, and hearing her say it like that made me doubly wary of my earlier choices.

What the hell was I thinking bringing her inside the walls of Silverhold Tower?

It was too late to do anything about it now. They would be back soon if they weren’t already. The only solution was to keep a close eye on the fae and ensure she didn’t get up to anything while she was there.

“Just get a read on her,” I growled, unwilling to show Endora my wariness.

“No, but really, Zen. Why did you let her come in the first place?” she pressed, already at my side again. “That’s not really like you.”

“I thought she was dead when I found her,” I answered flatly. “Even if she was trespassing, she encountered some kind of unfortunate circumstance. You can’t fake that.”

“Sure you can,” Endora scoffed. “A good spell can fake anything. I could fake my own death right now if I wanted.”

I gritted my teeth, but each word she spoke made me feel more foolish. “Just find out who she is and how she got to be here.”

“I’ll see what I can do. If she is faking her memory loss, it’ll be easy enough to find out.”

If she was lying, it would be the last thing she ever did, I vowed internally.

Together, we headed toward the main floor and into the north wing, where the infirmary sat at the far end of the castle.

The staff worked throughout the building in their various chores, cleaning, cooking, doing maintenance as required. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but now I had a gnawing in my gut because something was amiss: there was a stranger among us, one I hadn’t vetted thoroughly with an extensive background through my personally handpicked Royal Guard.

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