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“They already return,” I said, surprised at the smooth lie.
After a nod and a glance at the guards behind me, he led me inside. Shocked, I hurried after him, more confused than comforted at how easily my lone arrival had been overlooked.
“I am sorry,” he said as we crossed the entry chamber. Portraits of his ancestors hung on the walls on either side of the soft red carpet. “About your father. He was a good… man.” He was no man at all, but a male of both great heart and power.
The doors shut with an echoing boom that made me flinch and forget about correcting him. The lit sconces guttered and then flared high over the stone walls. “Thank you.”
“Would you care for any refreshments?” he asked, seeming so small now, his rich eyes dull in this place of after. After he’d left without a goodbye and made me think the worst. After my father had escorted he and his men home safely.
After they’d been killed while returning home.
All I could manage was a shake of my head and to entwine my trembling fingers.
Clearing his throat, Bron tucked his hands into the pockets of his dark brown pants. “My mother and father have been sent for. They might already be awaiting us in the great hall.”
“They are aware then,” I said, cautious as we walked down a long hall, deeper into this dark, foreign castle. “That we plan to wed?”
His slight cough and the falter in his next step drew my eyes away from the stairs that zigzagged, their wood clothed in that red carpet, up through the ceiling into the floors beyond. “We shall explain in due time.”
His bland tone and the stiff set of his shoulders caused my mind to whirl. Though, surely, if they’d pla
Sinshell might have been a broken kingdom, but the human kingdom would need all the help they could muster if they stood a chance at surviving the blood king.
The great hall was void of anything but two thrones upon a wooden dais, wrapped within two steps. The polished wooden doors opened to reveal the king and queen already seated, their hushed bickering ceasing at the sight of us.
Forced smiles fell into place as they rose. Bron’s mother, Sabrina, was aging at the eyes and mouth but beautiful for it all the same. His father, red-haired and rotund, dragged a finger over his graying moustache, then wiped his hand down his red and brown regalia. “Welcome, Princess Opal.”
“We are so sorry to hear of your father’s passing. It grieves us so to know that if our son had just stayed put during these trying times, then perhaps he would still live.”
Bron looked at the ground, and I fumbled for a response, Sabrina’s brown curls sliding over her shoulder as she shot a glance at her husband. “Thank you,” I finally settled on as a cold weight pressed behind my eyes. “He is greatly missed.”
The queen’s words spoke of a reluctance to have her son anywhere near us more than guilt for not being able to keep a handle on him. Even so, that twinge in my chest worsened as all the many useless what-ifs returned.
“We’ve prepared your quarters for you,” the king said with a clearing of his throat, shaking me loose from my tormenting thoughts. “We hope you will find them pleasing.” Another look from his wife had him sputtering, “Oh, and of course, we will ensure no harm befalls you under our watch.”
“That is most gracious of you indeed, but I must ask of the plans to marry—”
“Child.” Sabrina released a breath that sounded like more of a sigh. “May I be frank?”
I was no child. A fact she was well aware of. Still, given little choice, I nodded. “Yes, of course.”
Stepping down from the dais, she walked toward me with her gown, a sky-blue mixture of ruffles and lace, trailing behind her. A silken gloved arm slid through mine. “I will show you to your rooms while we chat.” We headed through the imposing doors before I could find words for the king or prince and straight to the stairs I’d passed on our way in.
Her arm stayed looped through mine the entire way, and though I waited, drinking in the dancing ornate sconces and the portraits on the wooden panels of the walls that were flanked by bronze and gold tapestries, Sabrina didn’t say a word until we’d reached the very top of the stairwell.
Atop the four steep turns of stairs, a short hall led to only one heavy wooden door, the queen losing her hold on my arm as she struggled to get it open. I could’ve opened it for her just by willing it to, but I doubted she’d appreciate the display of our differences very much.
With a huff that sent spirals of curls from her face, Sabrina opened the door and swept a hand wide for me to enter first. Slowly, I did and recognized I was inside one of the square towers I’d seen on my journey into the city, this one likely the shorter one out of the four given the size of the stairwell and room.
The bronze, red, and gold décor had made its way into these rooms too. The bed, quilted in red with patterned gold whorls and tasseled throw pillows, sat in the center of the room. Two wooden chests of drawers on either side housed shining red metal lanterns, void of flame.
The sight of the crimson shade tempted my mind to dance toward gruesome places.
“There’s a bathing room just through this door,” Sabrina said, knocking on the closed wood and pulling me from my near-spiral. “The maids have provided you with enough essentials…” She eyed my ensemble, the lack of belongings. “I shall ask them to provide some more gowns for you and sleepwear.”
I nodded, murmuring my thanks as my eyes flitted across the bare walls, the large golden trunk over by the lone arched window. “That’s beautiful,” I said, if not for something to say at all, as I stepped closer to take in the engravings upon it. The wood had been carved by an expert hand. Little creatures, squirrels and rabbits, played amongst trees in the gold-painted wood. A purchase, no doubt, from a Sinshell woodworker.
“Inside it, you’ll find your first round of projects.”
That pulled my hand away from the trunk. I spun to the queen, who stood poised, chin high with her hands clasped before her. “Projects?”
A small smile curved her lips, and then she sighed. “My dear, did you truly think we’d harbor a faerie princess for any reason other than to help? Surely, you are not so young as to be unaccustomed to such politics.”
Against my urgent wish for them not to, my cheeks warmed. “What would you have me do?” Mending, I guessed, or perhaps crafting paintings or pottery.
The thought jarred and awakened as Sabrina’s smile grew into something real and threatening. “Our son informed us of your ability to weave gold.”
Breath sailed from me. “I-I don’t,” I started, then tried again. “I ca
“Spare me your excuses, Princess.” Walking to the trunk, the queen opened it to reveal mounds of clothing inside, and I tripped back toward the bed. “Our armies have been decimated. The few left help to protect us, yes, but they won’t be enough should trouble arrive on our doorstep. And arrive it will.” She straightened, demure and unblinking. “We need more soldiers, and therefore more coin, our coffers draining faster by the month with every ship forced to turn away from our shores as they ca
“You… but I don’t think you understand,” I said even though her words made perfect sense. “It is not something I can just do on command. Honestly, it has only happened a handful of times. All of them accidental.”