“Lord and Lady Ashwood,” the steward greets us, smooth and practiced. “Welcome to the Kingdom of Pentacles.” He folds his tall thin frame into a deep bow, his fluff of white hair lifting like feathers with the sweeping motion.
Kane’s gaze doesn’t falter. He glares straight ahead, over the top of the steward and the flurry of maids who rush to remove our cloaks and whisk them away before disappearing as quickly as they arrived.
I have to remember who I’m supposed to be. Lady Ashwood wouldn’t gape at the candelabra standing tall on ornately carved golden pedestals or the flickeringflames casting dancing shadows across the rich golds and deep jewel tones that make up the luxurious tapestries lining the smooth stone walls. No, to Lady Ashwood, this would all be normal. To Lady Ashwood, this would be expected and not the most opulent, richly decorated place she’s ever been inside.
“His Majesty, King Alderic Lockhart the Third, is honored by your presence at this evening’s feast.” The steward’s posture is impeccable as his gloved hands tug on the maroon waistcoat beneath his jacket. “Please, allow me to escort you to your quarters, where you may refresh yourselves after your long”—he pauses, taking in my frizzy mane and crooked smile—“and no doubttryingjourney.”
Fucking doormen.
“You’ll excuse the intrusion, my lord, but have we met before?” The steward’s wrinkled face crinkles like tissue as he peers up at Kane. “You look incredibly familiar.”
“No,” Kane replies without looking at the man.
“Hmm,” the steward murmurs, his lips pursed. “Forgive the imposition.” With a graceful bow and gesture that beckons we follow, he turns and leads us deeper into the palace.
Kane crooks his arm and holds out his elbow. I grasp it, and this time I don’t notice the solid iron heat beneath my fingers, the sudden ripple of awareness that whispers through me with the simple nearness of him, or the way my body wants to pull him closer. I don’t notice any of those things at all.
I am a strong, independent woman. I don’t want a man. Especially this emotionally unavailable, dangerous…dark…brooding…muscular…
“Shit,” I breathe, heat climbing up my cheeks.
The steward whips around, his thinning hair waving with the turn. “Pardon, my lady?”
“Nothing, I’m sor—” Before the automatic apology fully escapes me, I clamp my mouth shut. “I have been told of a grand hallway within the palace that boasts the most extraordinary glass dragonflies.”
I let the unasked question linger as if I truly am Lady Ashwood, deserving of information whether I explicitly request it or not.
“Ah, yes, my lady has been informed correctly. I must say, I am proud the beauty of our palace has reached your kingdom. The Palace of Pentacles boasts several grand hallways. The Hall of Crystal Wings, which my lady speaks of, the Hall of Mirrors, the great Gallery Hall, and a newly constructed hall reserved specifically for His Royal Majesty, King Lockhart the Third.”
Without another word, he spins on his heels, his wisps of hair flouncing with every purposeful step.
Kane is as cool and calm as always, his heavy footsteps echoing off the floor as the steward leads us deeper into the palace, but I’ve clasped my free hand into a fist so tight, my knuckles blanch white.
Sensing my tension, Kane smooths his fingers over mine. “You’re doing well.”
It’s obvious I didn’t make it through much of the palace when I frantically escaped Kane as we follow the steward through never-ending corridors and past dark wood tables covered in floral bouquets that line the tapestry-draped walls.
This place is a maze. Each turn makes me feel like we’re venturing deeper into a trap with no escape.
You’ll never find your way back to that bedroom. You’ll never find your way out of here.
“Fawn, you’re trembling.”
“Am I?” My mind races, trying to recall a mental marker that will lead me back to the room I first landed in. “I just need to find the Crystal Wings Hall. I’ll be able to retrace my steps from there.”
Kane slows his pace, increasing the distance between us and the steward. “We will find your way home,” he whispers. “Our task now is to fit in, make them believe we are who we pretend to be.”
“You’re right.” I take a deep breath, filling my lungs with the sweetness of fresh flowers and beeswax candles. I tilt my head back and exhale, trying to surface from the depths of my racing thoughts.
Gilded moldings soar above, framing the velvety deep-maroon ceiling crowned with chandeliers that scatter the candlelight like a thousand sunrises against the crimson backdrop.
Up ahead, the steward notices how far we’re trailing behind and stops. “Is something the matter, my lord?”
“Do not dawdle, Lady Ashwood,” Kane says, morphing into my noble husband. “They’ll think us impolite.”
I quicken my pace, taking two steps for every one of Kane’s as his broad strides bring us to the steward’s back. There’s a flash of something familiar, a fleeting image in my periphery that tugs at my memory.
I stop, dropping Kane’s arm. “What’s down that hall?” I ask, trying to place the tall gold statue in my scattered panicked memories of first arriving in the palace. Then again, what portion of the palace isn’t filled with gold?
