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“No. But I’m not too keen to learn what’s hiding in the dark in a place like this. ”
“Come along,” Ghillie said, moving ahead as though he hadn’t heard me.
I got the feeling it didn’t matter whether or not I wanted to go into the pitch. I was going. “Look,” I said, turning to Holden. “This isn’t your problem. Kellen is nothing to you. You could stay here with Desmond and wait—”
He raised a hand, cutting me off mid-sentence. It was probably for the best. I wasn’t good at big heartfelt speeches, and being selfless wasn’t my strongest character trait.
“If you think I followed you into a different goddamn reality just to sit in the waiting room, you’re sorely mistaken. ”
“But—”
“And what’s more…do you have any comprehension of how much trouble you tend to get yourself in when you go running off on your own?”
My brain told my mouth to retort, but my mouth was smart enough to stay shut.
“Can we go please?” Desmond added. His voice was getting gruffer and less human every time he spoke. We needed to hurry the hell up before it was too late for him.
“Okay. ”
Ghillie was already waiting for us at the end of the hallway, and in spite of the sudden leaden quality of my feet, I managed to guide my motley crew up to his side. “Any last words of advice before you throw us to the lions?”
“Lions?” He cocked his head to the side, his green eyes appraising me thoughtfully. “Certainly not lions. But depending on the mood of His Majesty, I wouldn’t bet against arm-wrestling an ogre. ”
I gave him a dumbfounded stare in return and waited for the punch line. There was no haha, gotcha or a just kidding. He merely smiled as though he had a secret and nodded into the abyss. “Good luck to you, my lady, and those who follow you. I hope the Lady Calliope has foretold a long and healthy future for you all. ”
Oh, well, didn’t that sound promising?
I clenched my hands into fists and pretended not to think about his creepy omen and how it might apply to me. I had a socialite to collect and next to no time to do it in. I’d worry about my mortality when I was back in New York and hunting for my psychopath-with-a-death-wish mother.
Fairies had nothing on the werewolf bitch out for my head.
I threw my shoulders back and gave Ghillie a terse nod. “I just go right in?”
“If you’d please. ”
I did not please, but I walked into the murky void nonetheless. It didn’t feel like passing through the door of Starbucks into Calliope’s mansion usually did. There was no tug or swirling sensation of being moved from one plane to the next. But there was no air, either. A gasping, hollow void greeted me in the blackness, sucking the breath from my lungs and striking me cold with the realization that if I were to stand still for too long, I would die on my feet. It felt strange to me—as someone who confronted fear and death on a daily basis—that something as simple as one breath to the next could be the difference between life and death.
I felt small.
A hand nudged me forward, and soon I was on the other side, sucking in air like it was going out of style. Holden, who had no need to breathe, followed me out, and was tugging Desmond along behind him with the grace of a parent leading a bratty child through the mall. He looked disgusted in spite of the fact Desmond was behaving very well for a man about to yield to his inner beast.
The new room we entered was quite unlik
e the hall we left behind.
Every wall shone in gold tones, rendered alive by thousands of cream-colored candles lighting the round chamber. The floor looked like it was made from pearl, and the shifting illumination caused our shadows to creep and dance over the pale ground.
In the center of the room, on a gold throne carved to resemble the twisting branches of a tree, sat the single most beautiful man I’d ever laid eyes on. And that was saying something, taking into account the company I kept.
His features were delicate, and on another face might have looked too feminine. But with his dark hair curling past his ears and the fierce expressive tilt of his eyebrows, he did not look like a girl in the least. His brown-eyed gaze met my own, and for a long moment all we did was stare at one another, my poor heart rattling with each passing second he did not blink.
“Calliope sent you,” he stated.
Though his words didn’t demand a response, I dipped into a low curtsy—I couldn’t believe I remembered how to do one—but did not drop my gaze. “Yes, Your Majesty. ”
Behind me I heard the rustle of material and knew Holden and Desmond were following my lead. Thank goodness.
The man on the throne waved his hand from side to side and let out a disgusted sigh. “Don’t patronize me. I know who you are. You’re royalty in your own right. ”
