Page 17 of Trials of Dusk and Dreams
“Nothing,” Bodin replies curtly.
I touch the door, and telltale magic tingles across my skin. “Is this the clock tower?”
“Let’s go.” He starts moving again.
My curiosity is piqued. “Cricket warned me never to go inside the clock tower. Why?”
Bodin responds by descending a nearby staircase.
“I’m just curious,” I persist as I jog to catch up. “Are the locks meant to keep you out as well?”
Each question I fire darkens his mood further. I don’t think it’s because I’m annoying him, but maybe because he genuinely doesn’t know the answers. His brow furrows in frustration, and a flicker of fear passes through his eyes. If he’s aware of his unstable memory, it must be terrifying.
We reach the landing a level below and continue along the corridor, passing the cellar kitchen. Hearing our steps, or perhaps Bodin’s huffs and grumbles, Geraldine, Max, and Peggy turn their attention to the open doorway. We don’t stop. They’re clustered around the central counter, facing Marina, who’s in full gossip mode. Maybe she’s heard about Fox.
When I catch Geraldine’s concerned gaze, I have my answer. They know.
A flash of my nightmare hits me behind my eyes. It was warped, wicked, and oh so wrong. All I know is that I’m left with a lingering sense of guilt and shame.
To avoid awkward questions, I quickly wave and force a smile. Geraldine jumps off her seat, but I shake my head. “See you all for lunch.”
I feel her wary eyes following us long after we’ve turned down another hallway. That human is smart. My false bravado wouldn’t have fooled her. The House of Stone Tower burned to the ground last night. Now Fox is suddenly missing. We’re back at the Nexus tomorrow to resume training for the exhibition trials. Goodfellow will likely turn up and be bonded to the Baleful Hunt.
We continue onward to a room near the public entry of the keep. I’d assumed Legion’s study would be near his bed chambers or by the library on our level. Maybe the castle shifted it during the night.
Bodin raises his fist and raps sharply on one of the carved double doors. I turn and survey the landscape outside the windows overlooking the courtyard. It snowed again last night, leaving a thin, fluffy blanket of white on every surface. Mist obscures the gate of twisted, enchanted, thorny vines. Not long ago, I watched Fox wave his hand, causing those vines to crack and snap open for our entry. I realize now that security beyond that gate seems lacking. Either people are too afraid of the fae living here, or more hidden protective measures are in place.
A cocktail of familiar smells wafts through as the door opens, revealing who’s inside: smoke, cedarwood, leather, absinthe, bergamot, and spice. I turn to enter and sigh as warm air hits my face, comforted by the knowledge that three of my mates are within. The more I say that word to myself, the more it feels right . . . and wrong. It’s like I’m living in a future no one else has reached yet. An impatient frown creases my brow, and I slip myhand into my pocket. I touch the spectacles to reassure myself that this won’t end with them abandoning me again.
No evil queen is stealing my magic and summoning them away. She’s slumbering in her ivory palace until Imbolc, just under two turns of the moon from now.
The worst we have to contend with until then is Puck and his inflated ego.
Bodin steps forward, then halts abruptly. I collide with the solid wall of his back. Male voices filter out of the room.
“Fuck,” Bodin grunts. “You took too long. Now we have to wait for the military reports to be delivered.” He sighs heavily. “Leaders from around Avorlorna send updates on the state of security during the Gentle Interlude.”
His arm sweeps back, his hand resting protectively on my hip. A spark of warmth blooms where he touches. The gesture surprises me. Legion’s abrupt order to enter makes him tense, but then he releases a breath and gives a disparaging head shake that rattles his braids. They tickle my face. I have the urge to yank on them as Varen did, just to see how Bodin will react, but he steps forward and ushers me inside.
Chapter 8
Willow
The warm study is larger than I imagined—like a ground-zero war room. Nero had one like this in his private top-floor conservatory. The association makes me shiver uncomfortably. I wonder if we’ll ever be rid of war or if this volatile trait is a permanent fixture here on Earth.
Four bookcases flank the left wall like soldiers. A blazing fireplace warms a sitting area on the right. Smack in the center of the room, facing the door, is the Knight Commander’s oversized yet simple wooden desk. A tapestry map of Avorlorna hangs behind him. Red and blue pins sporadically mark what I guess is enemy activity.
Legion sits like a king, head bowed as he pores over one of the many documents before him. Emrys looms behind him, gloved leather hands clasped at his front. His black military uniform is spotless, crisp, and clean. It isn’t easy to reconcile this version with the one Styx dropped me into earlier this morning.
Speaking of Styx, he lurks in the shadows between two bookcases, nose stuck in a book, pretending not to notice my arrival. It’s a lie because we all see each other—my mates and I. We sense it in the minute shifts in the atmosphere. Their comforting scent fills my lungs. It feels so right in here,surrounded by four of them. It feels safe despite the other strangers doing business with the knights.
Two ruddy-cheeked city guards sit in the guest chairs at Legion’s desk, waiting for him to read their report. Both have elfin ears, brownish hair, and pale skin. A third, unfamiliar male waits in the sitting area, arms folded and glaring impatiently at the guards as though they stole his time slot. His afro hair is cropped close to his scalp. No jewelry adorns his dark, fae ears. He keeps his chiseled face in profile, eyes locked on Legion. I’m taking a stab in the dark and guessing he’s a House of Stone Radiant. That style of plain clothing was precisely the type Sylvanar favored.
If he’s here and decidedly unhappy, it’s likely about the Lord’s death—perhaps he’s the new Earl.
I want to slink into the shadows with Styx, but Bodin slams the door behind us with such force that my spine rattles. Multiple sets of eyes snap my way. A scratching and wet gnawing sound fills the silence. It seems to be coming from somewhere near the bookcases. The sound stops abruptly when I glance in that direction. My nose twitches with another detected scent . . . raw meat. Maybe Emrys brought some of his work home after all.
The House of Stone Radiant takes in my presentation with disapproving raised eyebrows. I fight the urge to comb my wild strands into order. Varen’s coat comes down to my knees, and I am shoeless. If I’d known there would be people here, I’d have fixed myself before entering the room.
