blow to her face. Her skin was flaky—the dried blood from her nose, she realized, panic settling. She made a mental note to wash it off later, if—when—Garin released her.
“You’re the one who asked me to come with you.”
“I needed you in order to get back into my coven’s good graces. I would have picked you up and slung you over my shoulder either way.”
“It doesn’t matter. I trusted you enough to come here, not entranced, but of my own will—all because you couldn’t do it properly,” she spat, meaning the words to sting him just as hard, “when just twenty-four hours ago, I didn’t know what you were, or that this place even existed. I’ve never asked you to blindly give me your trust the way you’ve required it of me, time and time again.” Lilac took a deep breath, swallowing her anger. He was a stupid, stubborn Darkling, there was no point in getting upset. “I was only wondering what your story was. That’s all.”
“There is no story,” he replied. “I have no story.”
Snuggling further into the blankets, Lilac yawned. Her eyelids were leaded with exhaustion. “Preposterous. Everyone’s got a story.”
To her surprise, Garin let out a quick snort. Again, with his mercurial moods. “Preposterous,” he piped in mock falsetto.
“What’re you mumbling, there?”
“Nothing at all. Goodnight, princess.”
Just before drifting off, she rolled over once more to peer sleepily at the creature beside her. His back faced her again, shoulders rising once every minute or so with his slow, controlled breath.
Since departing the castle, she’d been chased, assaulted, and held captive.
Yet, Lilac had a nagging feeling her journey had only begun.
10
With a startled snort, Lilac jolted up in bed. A breeze chilled her back as she left the sheets, sweat soaking through her dress. Despite a vivid dream she couldn’t quite remember, she somehow felt incredibly rested. It must have been about the forest; she could still hear the rushing of the Argent, and in the second it took her eyes to readjust to the firelight, she realized the floor next to the bed was empty. The bookcase along the far wall had been shifted to the right to reveal a sizeable opening in the limestone—the source of both the cacophony of rushing water and the biting breeze that had chilled through her dampened clothes.
The light from the fireplace revealed little of the passage beyond the doorway. The edges were rough, as if someone had taken a wedge and pick haphazardly to the walls. A cerulean glimmer illuminated the makeshift entryway, like sunlight through crystal.
Surely Garin was in there; his baldric belt was gone from the room. She stood, grabbed her sack off the floor and set it on the bed, fishing out a clean set of undergarments and her last dress—the nicest she’d brought. She saved it for last, knowing now she had been foolish to think such an ornate garment would be useful in the forest. Stitched in gold trim, the red brocade hugged her hips and draped all the way down to her toes. She clasped her dagger-less belt around it and began braiding her hair? an easy style she could manage without a vanity.
She was in the middle of pinching her cheeks for color before she realized what she was doing. Why was she was fretting about how she looked before seeing him? It reminded her of the other evening at the inn, when she’d seen him for the first time—the humiliation she’d felt at stumbling into the tavern, the bottom of her dress then soaked. Of course, that was back when she didn’t know very much about him at all, and, she realized with a chuckle, he’d seen her much worse off since then. She retrieved her cloak from the sword rack—the cold swirling in from the passage was biting—and donned it quickly.
With one last look around the room, she slipped her flats on and hesitantly stepped into the opening. Carefully, she followed the gradual descent of the passageway. Even the lightest footsteps on the dusted stone floor produced a flurry of bouncing echoes, and she wondered how Garin could have possibly walked down without waking her. After a few seconds of the roaring water growing louder with each step she took, the passage turned sharply. She rounded the corner, and her jaw fell slack.
Before her, a high-ceiling cave was illuminated by a magnificent wrought iron candelabra. It was embellished in multicolored jewels, set upon a wooden table. Upon further inspection, she discovered the