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He shrugged.
“When you call yourself their obedient dog, does that mean you never ask questions or wonder about their intentions?”
Garrick flinched, avoiding my gaze. I’d hit my mark. “Bathe, before you’re late and there are consequences,” he said instead, storming away from the washroom. Toward me.
I laughed bitterly. “What more can they do to me?”
“You havenoidea what they can do,” Garrick snarled, leaning closer. “No inkling of the hell they can inflict on their living subjects.”
For a long moment, we stared at one another. My pulse beat in my ears, and the world continued to sway. My aching head was dizzy and light. Ihadto escape.
Praying my glamour would come naturally to me, I made an attempt to use it. “I command you to help me escape,” I said, dropping my voice into something I hoped sounded alluring and irresistible.
Garrick stared, a furrow forming between his brows. “What?”
My heart dropped. “I command you—”
He cut me off. “Your powers won’t work here. The king and queen used blood from your wounds to place an enchantment on this room that prevents you from accessing any of your magic. Or your glamour.”
“But I can use my powers in other parts of the castle?”
The shifter glanced away, but his silence was confirmation enough. He couldn’t lie and didn’t want to admit the truth. That knowledge gave me hope, even if it was brittle.
With that possibility in mind, I relented, pushing past Garrick to enter the washroom. I would bathe and attend the Silverfrosts’ feast. I’d feign obedience and weakness. I’d play the role of quiet, good, unobtrusive Florentia once more. And when they least suspected it, I’d find a way to fight back. “Turn around,” I called to Garrick as soon as I stood before the tub.
Garrick shook his head, though I watched as he turned his back to me, staring out the window. “I’m not here to seduce you.”
“You wouldn’t succeed if you tried.” I peeled off my tunic and leggings and submerged myself into the tub.
A hiss escaped me. It was hot, a layer of steam rising from its surface. Some lavender soap rested nearby, its soothing aroma fresh and lovely. I inhaled deeply, willing the scent and the sensation of blissful warmth enveloping me to melt away my pain, defeat, and fear. If only for a moment.
As if Garrick had heard my surprise when I climbed into the tub, he explained how the water and heat worked. “There are a few fae from Ravenheart who made their home here, and they’re gifted with fire. They’re able to keep the water warm, while those Silverfrosts who control water help direct water into our pipes. I’m told every kingdom in Brytwilde has such luxuries, but you mortals do not.”
“We mortals are forced to go without many things,” I muttered under my breath.
As comforting as the bath was, tempting me to linger and pretend I wasn’t a prisoner to two monstrous immortals, I heeded Garrick’s earlier warning not to waste time. I hurriedly scrubbed my skin and washed my hair, cleaning the crusted blood off my neck and the back of my head.
The door swung open, and footsteps pattered about my room. I glanced over the edge of the tub to find two human women dressed like maids—though I’d always been told the Silverfrosts kept slaves—darting around. One laid a dress on the bed, while the other built up the fire and exchanged quiet words with Garrick, too low for me to hear. They showed no signs of wounds or even malnutrition, but their eyes were eerily glassy with glamour. I could hardly stand to look them in their faces. They were prisoners as much as I was.
As swiftly as they’d arrived, they swept back out of the room.
“You need to hurry,” Garrick said to the window.
I frowned.Quiet. Obedient. Don’t let them know you’re dreaming of a way to escape,I reminded myself. I’d play their game for my own survival. And I’d win. I had to.
Determined, I stood, setting one leg out of the tub. But I’d risen too swiftly, and my shaking limbs and pounding head rewarded me with a wave of dizziness. I cried out, barely managing to catch the edge of the tub with one hand as I slid toward the slick tile floor.
Warm hands caught my waist, callouses scratching against my bare skin. I choked on a gasp.
“Don’t look at me!” I cried out as Garrick lifted me.
“I’m not looking below your eyes,” he grunted, heaving me up until we were face to face.
Despite the steam still curling through the air and the heat of his hands burning through me, gooseflesh rose on my skin. I wanted to be embarrassed or ashamed, but Garrick couldn’t lie, and his eyes remained fixed on mine.
This time, there were emotions churning in his gaze—an entire storm that I couldn’t begin to sift through.
“Are you hurt?” His breath caressed my face as he leaned forward, brushing his thumb over my cheek. His touch was gentle, his gaze warm, and I ached for the man I’d thought I’d known to be genuine. For this to not be only a trick, a mere mask.
