A guard opens the carriage door and gestures for us to climb inside, but my feet stay planted. I don’t move. I can’t. My legs refuse.
I glance back to the forest, toward the path we took to get here.
I’m having a psychotic break. That’s what this is.
But then there’s the ache in my legs. The raw blister on my heel. The dirt under my fingernails. The sharp scent of horses. The solid weight of Alder’s grip on my arm.
This isn’t a hallucination. This is real.
And I am so, so far from home.
Alder’s palm presses against my lower back. A silent command wrapped in the illusion of guidance. “After you.”
Now is not the time to question. Alder isn’t, and I won’t either. And then, before I think too hard about it, before I let the rising panic overtake me—
I step inside.
Seven
The moment my butt hits the bench, the plushvelvet cushions envelop me. The fabric is deep red and impossibly soft. The rest of the interior is just as opulent. Golden filigree spirals along the walls, tracing intricate patterns that catch the light filtering through small windows etched with designs of pentacles and twisting vines. The ceiling is lined with embroidered silk, its pattern mirroring the patterns on the glass, while the floor is covered in a thick, luxurious rug that makes me want to rip off my dirty flats and spread my toes.
Too bad I don’t have time to revel in the fantasy.
Alder steps in behind me, and as soon as the door shuts with a heavy click, I whirl on him. “What the fuck are we doing? I’m trying, Alder,reallytrying, to let you lead here, but this is getting out of hand. Armed guards are taking us to an undisclosed location. That’s literally the start of a true crime documentary.”
“They’re taking us to theKingdom of Cups,” hecorrects smoothly, settling onto the seat across from me.
“Oh, well, that clears everything right up,” I snap, crossing my arms. “A kingdom. My bad. That’s so much better.”
He props his ankle on his knee, unbothered. “You’re spiraling.”
“No shit! You do see the suits of armor escorting us, right? The horses? The carriage? We’ve stepped into an alternate dimension where Amazon Prime hasn’t even been invented yet. Not that that would be a particularly bad thing.”
He leans forward, resting his forearms on his thighs, his voice maddeningly calm. “You told me last night you wanted me to handle it, and that’s exactly what I’m doing.”
I press my fingers to my temples, inhaling deeply through my nose. “Alder, handling it means calling a car service, booking a flight home—not being kidnapped by men who sound like they’ve stepped out of a Ren Faire.”
“Gemma. Sweetheart.” His voice is all honey and steel, sliding down my spine and settling low in my stomach. “I don’t need to call for a car. I am the car service.” He gestures around us, the movement lazy, arrogant. “This is what it looks like when I take care of things.”
I gape at him. “You’re insane.”
“I’m the only one with a plan.”
My jaw clenches. “And what exactly is the plan? Because I must have missed the part where we discussed you waltzing into a fairy tale and becoming the main character.”
With a chuckle, he leans back and stretches his longarms along seat. “We’re going to Cups. We’re going to play along. And then we’re going to get home. You don’t have to worry about the details.” His eyes flick over me, slow, deliberate. “You just have to sit there and look pretty.”
My mouth falls open. “Excuse me?”
“Relax,” he drawls. “You’re always working. Always fighting. You made the right decision, letting me take over.” His voice dips lower, coaxing, persuasive. “You deserve this, Gemma. You deserve not to have to worry.”
I shake my head, trying to clear it. “Alder, I don’t—”
“I know, I know you don’t want to admit you need help. But you do. And that’s why I’m here.”
I swallow hard, my fingers curling into the plush velvet seat. “And what exactly do you get out of this arrangement?”
His smirk sharpens. “You.”
