“What you’ve done for your brother is very brave.” She put her hand on my shoulder. “He’ll be okay,” she said reassuringly.
I took a shaky breath. “I hope so.” Otherwise, was coming here worth it?
I pictured the route I’d taken through the forest to get here and the eerie gargoyle statues around the castle. As she walked to the door, I stopped her. “Wait a moment, please.”
“Something wrong?”
I bit my lower lip. “There are stories we’ve heard about the forest here, about the statues. And I saw them—here—outside the castle. Is it true?”
She pursed her lips. “It’s best we don’t talk about things now. You already have enough on your mind without worrying about things we can’t change.”
Things we can’t change…
“Because of the queen?”
Genevieve gave me a small smile, affirming what I suspected. Her hands stilled. “She has taken from all of us,” she said quietly. “Some losses leave a stone marker to grieve over.” She glanced toward the window, out where statues stood silent in the dark. “Others leave nothing at all.”
She didn’t explain further and I sensed I shouldn’t ask.
“She’s bled us dry,” I revealed, bitterness rolling off my tongue. “All those promises… Nothing ever comes from them. She makes herself richer at the expense of the rest of us.”
Genevieve’s gaze flickered to me and then to the door, as if debating whether she should discuss this with me.
When she didn’t offer me anything, I probed, “What about Hadrien? What happened to him?”
She straightened, shuttering her expression. “We shouldn’t talk about that.”
“But—”
“It’s not my story to tell, dear.” She moved toward the door, her movements now brisk. “Goodnight, Lilia.”
She opened the door and was gone, footsteps fading as she headed down the corridor.
I sank onto the bed with a heavy sigh, and the events of the day rushed through me. Yesterday, I’d been in my cottage, worried about my mother and brother as they’d headed on their journey. Now I was trapped here in a castle far from home, a prisoner to a gargoyle.
Twenty-one days. I had twenty-one days to…what, exactly? I said I could help reinforce the wards, but how? Sure, I could work with herbs, plants, gardens, but that couldn’t be enough to accomplish this monumental task. Could I manage to do anything of value?
And if not, what would Hadrien do to me?
I shook off that thought before it crawled too deep beneath my skin. Focus on the present, that was what I should do. I ran my hand over the soft bedspread. At least the bed was comfortable, and the room was warm despite the stone walls. I told myself that I was safe here, I was fed, and I had shelter, practically housed in luxury compared to the meager existence in our small cottage.
And yet, I was trapped.
I settled back against the soft, fluffy pillows, exhaustion catching up with me. Last night I’d barely slept, too worried about Mom and Henri. Now my body pleaded for rest even as my thoughts raced.
Hadrien. Why was he so angry?
Where was he now?
I closed my eyes and the silver fury in his hard gaze flashed before me. The bitterness in his voice when he’d said there was no helping him replayed in my head.
Had I made a terrible, horrific mistake?
But sleep took me down before I came up with any real answers, dragging me into dreams about stone, and wings that blocked out the sun, and silver eyes that pierced like daggers.
I woke once in the dark, heart hammering, certain something had been chasing me through the forest.
A voice as rough as gravel had whispered, “Let’s see what you’re made of, Little One.”
