A growl tears out of me. I wheel on Othmar. His eyes flare wide. I’m struck by the resemblance between us. He isn’t a dead ringer for me, but his hair is about the same in-between shades of dark blond or light brown, depending on how the light hits, and his height is approximately the same. He’s a tad more muscular, which shames me for reasons I don’t like to think about, but that’s true of all the guards.
My father never could keep his cock in his pants. I wouldn’t be surprised if Othmar is a relation, perhaps a half-brother. He wouldn’t be the first I’ve encountered, and I doubt he’ll be the last.
No matter. The resemblance between us could prove useful.
“How are your dancing skills?”
“Highness?” The guard’s confusion is etched on his features. Good with a sword; thick as two short planks.
“Dancing. Waltzes, reels, that sort of thing. How well do you know the steps?”
His Adam’s apple bobs. “Passably well, Highness.”
“Find a maid and start practicing. Now.” I gesture to the door. “Out. That’s an order.”
“But I am to guard you?—”
“I said,get out.”
Palms out, he shuffles backward out the door. I slam it in his face.
Alone, I scrub my face and let out a deep sigh. Isolation wraps around me like a blanket that holds no warmth.
Then I move to the opposite wall and slam my fist against the secret lever. A hidden door pops open. To the left is a narrow stairway leading deep into the bowels of the castle. To the right, the stairs lead upward into my secret tower.
I turn right and begin to climb.
At the top of the stairs is a circular room. In the center is a brass tripod holding a blue enameled cylinder longer than my arm, and twice as wide. The Eye.
I squint to peer through the telescope. It is as I left it, trained upon the castle atop Thorn Mountain. Moonlight reflects off the pale stone. A long, dark shape coils around one tower. Its scales glint when the dragon raises its massive head to look straight at me.
I jerk away from the lens with a full-body shudder.
“Detestable worm,” I mutter, adjusting the Eye toward the sky. It takes a bit of searching to find the cloud formation of the fae. This telescope was a gift from the Caldrithonians, a gesture of appreciation for the basilisk skin.
A flash of white catches my eye, and I carefully adjust the knobs to focus the lens. The clouds tower high, lit from within like a lightning storm rages there. On occasion, I have seen the outline of a high tower. The outline of a castle almost identical in shape to the one on Thorn Mountain, the sanctuary where Briar and Killian retreated to avoid punishment. Cowards.
“Show yourselves,” I mutter.
Tonight, the fae gods remain hidden. Eerie white lightning flashes within the wispy haze. If not for the magical cloud cover, their hiding place would be as bright as the sun. Impossible to miss. But with it, even at night, their hiding place is invisible to the naked eye without a telescope.
I have not told anyone of the existence of the fae realm. A sacrilege; a secret all my own. Oddly, the cloud has comforted me in the lonely months since Briar and Killian left. Squinting at it calms me now.
Wind whips through the open tower. Reluctantly, I place a leather case over the telescope and buckle it. There are no windows to close in this tower. Only a roof overhead to protect the instrument from the elements. I shall have to bring it down to my study once the weather turns cold.
Turning the telescope to secure a clasp, I inadvertently point it down at the town below. I uncap the lens, adjust the dials, and scan the streets like I’m a harpy drifting over the city in search of prey.
Itinerant merchants have broken down their stalls for the day and are carting them off. Drunks stagger along streets. Waifs and beggars cling to the shadows. A pickpocket darts away from an unwary victim. Ordinary city life.
I don’t know what I expected, but disappointment guts me when I find no sign of the maiden.
I replace the cap and finish stowing my prize away for another time. Two weeks hence, I shall marry the first lady to come through the ballroom doors, and leave Othmar to dance with the rest.
6
ELINOR
With pins clenchedin my teeth, I thrust a needle through six layers of silk and wince as the blunt end pierces my finger.
