of my own.
We reach a platform between several large staircases that branch off in different directions.
The king points to the left. “That goes to the east wing. It’s nothing but empty rooms.” He points to the right. “There’s the west wing, but don’t go there.”
“Why, what’s in the west wing?”
“What’s in the west wing?” he repeats in a mocking tone. “What do you think is in the west wing? Dust, spiders, cobwebs. It’s nothing but dreary freezing shit everywhere in this manor. Don’t go in the west wing, don’t go in the east wing, just...don’t bother with anywhere.”
Blackbeard steps up beside me, leaning forward. “The kitchens are nice, though.”
The king sighs, then gives a resigned shrug. “Yeah, the kitchens, those are fine.”
“And her bedroom,” Gray adds, her voice like a creaky floorboard.
“Obviously,” the king says with a nod. “We keep the ambassador suite up to par.”
“The parlor has good lighting,” Blackbeard says.
The king scoffs. “The parlor is a dump, but you’re right, we get by.”
“And the library.” This voice comes from Micah, who I hadn’t realized until now had been following.
The king barks a laugh. “The library. Now that’s a joke.”
Warmth spreads over my chest, sending tingles down my arms and spine. I almost feel as if I could float on air. It’s impossible to mask the longing in my voice when I whisper, “You have a library?”
He nods, oblivious to the pounding in my heart, the yearning in my eyes at that delicious, magical word. Library.
“Now, onto the dining room,” he says and starts down one of the staircases.
I follow, but my mind lingers on the platform above, waiting, watching, seeking any sign that could lead me to the promised haven of books and paper. Of unread sentences and uncharted worlds.
My body tugs at my mind and orders it to rejoin the tour.
With a sigh, I obey, returning my attention to the stairs beneath my feet and the dust I disturb with every step.
14
Exhaustion tugs at my bones by the time the tour is over. It ends in the parlor, which appears to be the most frequented room in the manor, although the furniture is sparse, faded, and outdated. But just like Blackbeard had mentioned, the lighting is good, with several tall windows lining one wall, inviting a view of the gardens. Daylight streams inside, illuminating motes of dust swirling through the air and laying over every surface.
“This room will be one of the first we make presentable,” I say, facing the king and the fae who’ve continued the tour with us—Blackbeard, Gray, and a few other wolf-people I’ve yet to know by adopted name. Micah, it seems, had run off at some point.
The king grunts in response and turns away from me to stalk toward the hearth. Unlike my room, a fire has been made. Without a word, he settles into a wingback chair facing the fire. The other fae shift anxiously from foot to foot, glancing from me to the king.
With my bare feet still aching and my body drained of energy, I feel my outward persona attempting to slip away. I breathe in deeply to steady myself. There’s still so much more to do. To learn. To plan for. And I’ve taken it all upon my shoulders.
The latter thought should feel daunting, but instead, it echoes inside me, to the last time I ever felt important. When I ran my family’s household in Bretton, there was never a dull moment, and the pressure was fully upon me to keep our lives afloat. In turn, I was given a sense of purpose, appreciated by those I loved.
That all changed, of course, with the scandal.
I shake the thoughts from my mind and focus on the anxious fae before me. “Do any of you have positions in this household?”
They exchange glances, then Blackbeard says, “I used to be on the king’s royal guard, but…there isn’t much need for that anymore.”
“I was once a soldier,” Gray says, surprising me. It’s hard to imagine the ancient woman as a fighter. “It was long ago, though, in the first war. I simply serve the king now.”
“You won’t find the servants and staff you’re looking for,” the king says, eyes on the flames in the hearth. “I lost most of my household staff when I refused to have a palace built in the new Winter Court. Everyone else left when I was sentenced to be cursed.”
“Who are the rest of you then?” I ask.
The king says nothing, so Blackbeard takes a hesitant step