The savage and the swan

Without pause, I was gently released and thrust into the dark by a hand at the small of my back. I froze mere feet inside, my eyes catching on a white poster bed with gray furred bedding and tasseled silk pillows, a long deep red chaise at its end. Bookshelves in a matching white wood spa

ed two walls, nightstands with twisting birch legs poised either side of the bed, and then I glimpsed three other doors.

I didn’t see where they led to—bathing and dressing chambers, maybe—I turned back to the king as he said, gruff and clipped, “You seem rather fond of gilded cages…” He curled a finger at the door, coaxing the heavy wood toward him and effectively trapping his cruel words inside. “So here’s another, my lovely swan.”