Think.Breathe.Do not get found out and dragged in front of Queen Magickal Human Sacrifice.
Inhale. Exhale. Again.
I smooth my trembling hands down the front of my skirts, force my spine to straighten. Act normal. Just a normal woman in a normal castle on her way to…tea drinking? A modiste fitting? Letter writing?
I push off the wall, walking fast but controlled. Head down. Eyes on the ground.
I’m fine. This is totally fine.
And I’m also ignoring the fact that my brain is playing the trauma reel on a loop behind my eyelids.
I turn a corner—and slam straight into a wall of solid muscle and tailored velvet.
A sharp gasp escapes me as I stumble back, hands catching soft fabric.
Strong hands catch my elbows, steadying me before I can fall. “Whoa there,” a familiar voice says, stretching the words with a lazy drawl. “Where’s the fire?”
Alder.
Relief crashes through me so hard my knees almost give out, and I lean into him.
He grins down at me, golden hair tousled, blue eyes gleaming. “God, you’re warm,” he murmurs, pulling me against his chest. “Where have you been?”
“Alder, I—” My voice catches, cracked and raw. I don’t know where to begin. I don’t know how to make the words come out. “Something happened.”
But he’s not listening. His arm slips around my waist, the other brushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear as his mouth finds the curve of my neck. “I thought I told you to stay in bed.”
I plant a hand on his chest, firm but not enough to push him away. “Seriously. Something is wrong.”
“Mmm. Of course something’s wrong,” he murmurs against my jaw, like this is all a game. “Something always is when you’re involved.”
“I watched a girl die,” I blurt. “Clara, the maid from this morning. In some kind of bathing chamber. With the Queen. And a masked man who—I don’t even know what he was chanting—and it was magick, Alder. Real magick.”
He goes rigid for half a second and then exhales a soft laugh. “You must have hit your head harder than I thought.”
“I’m serious!” I snap. “There was chanting, there were guards, the Queen painted a glowing sigil on Clara’s head—and then Clara started bleeding from her eyes and nose and mouth. And then she—she just—she died. Her body went over a cliff. I saw it.”
He pulls back slightly, his eyes narrowing in something that looks like concern, but feels patronizing.“Gemma, sweetheart, you need to lie down.”
“No, I need you to listen,” I say, words tumbling out in a rush. “There’s something happening here. Something bigger than us getting swept up into this world. Magick is real. I felt it. I saw it. And Sylvie—she mentioned the Kingdom of Pentacles. She said they have magick there. That’s what she said. That their new king uses it. This whole state or country or—”
“Realm,” he corrects. “This whole realm is called Towerfall.”
“Yes,” I say, my voice pitching up. “They have magick here.Real magick. And I think—” My breath hitches. “I think there’s so much going on that you and I cannot even begin to understand.”
He exhales through his nose and drags a hand through his hair. “Gemma…”
It’s not just his tone. It’s his whole body—tense, jaw tight, muscle in his temple ticking like he’s barely keeping his irritation in check. Like I’m the problem.
“You said you’d find a way home,” I push. “Have you? Have you actually found out anything that will help us?”
He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he shifts, stepping toward our door like he’s heard all he’s willing to hear. “You need to get into bed,” he says finally.
I blink. “What?”
“You’re rambling. You’re exhausted. This entire ordeal has clearly brought on some sort of episode, and you running around the castle unsupervised isn’t helping. What you need is to lie down and let me handle things.”
He opens the door to our shared room and places a hand at the small of my back, nudging me forward likeI’m some fragile thing he needs to tuck in and medicate.
