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“It’s not like that,” I say, suddenly worrying for Fiona. She was only trying to help me. I won’t expose her as the source of my information. “I’m not trying to trick you. Where’s the trick in asking you outright?”
“There’s more than one way to set a trap,” he says. The food now sits untouched between us, his gaze directed unwaveringly at me.
I stiffen at his implication. Does he really think all this has been some elaborate seduction on my part? Yes, I set out to learn more about him because I thought it would be useful, and maybe even with some vague hope in mind of finding a way out of this place, but we’ve shared so many moments in the days since then that were beautiful, special. Completely sincere. I find I’m gripping the table, resentment flickering within me at the thought that he might not view them the same way.
“There’s certainly more than one way to be an asshole,” I bite out.
“Of course, I could always find ways to compel you to tell me how you learned so much about true names.”
He says it so nonchalantly, examining his nails, that I can’t tell if he’s serious or not. But the realization that it really is a thought that’s crossed his mind makes my resentment flare into anger.
“Then I would just lie,” I say, my voice hard and spiky. I stand up, suddenly wanting to be somewhere else. Somewhere where I don’t have to watch his beautiful face spout such infuriating words.
“Eleanor,” he says, surprised by my action.
“I might have to stay in this palace, Ruskin, but I don’t have to sit here and listen to these threats and accusations.”
I turn for the stairs, but dammit it, he’s so quick. He’s by my side and laying a warm hand on my wrist before I reach them.
“I’m sorry,” he says, the dangerous tone vanishing. His head is bowed and he’s standing close enough that his lips almost brush the top of my head. “This is…harder than I thought it would be.”
“Then why bother?” I say, my voice still harsh in comparison to his.
“Because I want to give you what you want, Ella. But you’re asking me to undo centuries of conditioning. Give me time.”
I let my shoulders drop, unaware I was even tensing them. The apology—the acknowledgment—is something. He presses a gentle kiss to my temple and it’s in danger of making me melt into a puddle at his feet. I resist the urge and just nod.
He takes my hand.
“Let me escort you back down,” he says. He doesn’t ask me to stay and finish the meal. I take that as a positive sign. At least he’s respecting the lines I’m drawing.
He’s quiet as we descend, but when I glance at his face, it looks anything but peaceful. Rather his brow his furrowed, his eyes distant, and it seems to me he’s locked in thought, turning something over in his mind.
We’re halfway between his quarters and my room when he finally speaks.
“Will you come with me?” he asks. Again, a request, not a demand.
“All right.”
To my surprise he leads me outside, into a walled garden tucked away between a larger courtyard and a corridor. I haven’t been here before. In fact, I doubt you’d notice it if you didn’t know it was there. I get a sense that magic as much as design plays a part in this inconspicuousness.
Unlike the abundance of the rose garden, this place isn’t lavish, but instead sports neat rows of flowerbeds with small, pretty flowers, many of which I recognize from back home. Without hesitation, Ruskin picks a flower as he passes—something delicate and white—and stops by a spot in the wall at the end of the garden. He drops the flower beside it and the wall splits open in a gap that narrows at the edges, like it’s yawning. When it settles back into place there’s an arched door there, surprisingly plain for a Fae design.
“Where does it go?” I ask.
“It’s the Monarch Gate,” Ruskin says. The evening is drawing in now and twilight has swallowed him in a layer of purple shadow. “It leads to Styrland.”
On impulse I reach out a hand to touch it, stroking a finger down the smooth surface of the wood. It’s a thrill to feel so close, and I imagine I can smell the earthy, wet scent of my homeland seeping through the cracks.
“I thought the Emerald Forest held the gate to the human realm.”
“It does have one, for common use. I keep it closed except for market days. But this one is different. It can be opened at any time by one who knows how to use it—but it’s only one way. You can pass through it to Styrland, but you can’t come back by it. It’s how I answer the call so quickly.”
“The call?”
“Didn’t you ever wonder? How someone can say my name in a silly rhyme and I’ll be there in a matter of minutes? Fast travel through the human realm is easy enough, but I have to get there first.”
It makes sense. The carousel of pools we travelled through in Styrland wouldn’t get you from one realm to another, and it’s still a journey into the Emerald Forest to reach the common gate.
